I died knowing the truth, but he died with me in the fire.

I died in the year I loved him most.

His fortune, worth hundreds of millions—he just walked away from it all. He let his entire empire burn, just to be with me.

Then I opened my eyes again, ten years earlier.

We had just gotten married, and I hated him more than anyone.

I rushed to his company, and the moment I saw him, I choked out, “Julian, I’m sorry.”

He froze for a brief moment, then his expression turned cold. “Go on, tell me. How are you going to torture me this time?”

1

I remember Julian didn’t make it out of that final explosion.