Chapter17
Julian Lancaster instinctively reached out, trying to grasp Charlotte’s wrist.
“Charlotte, you’re just saying that to hurt me, right?”
“You’re angry that I chose Bianca when I lost my memory. Angry that I accused you… hurt you. So
now you’re saying these things on purpose to get back at me. You want me to suffer, is that it?”
All the apologies he had rehearsed flew straight out of his mind, replaced by overwhelming panic.
But before his fingers could even brush the fabric of her sleeve, a force shoved his hand away from
behind.
“Julian Lancaster, you’ve got some nerve showing up here.”
Logan Westwood’s voice was ice–cold, his gaze sharp as a blade.
Charlotte caught the dangerous glint in his eyes and quickly reached for his hand, gently tugging on
his fingertips. Tilting her head up with a pleading smile, she said,
“Logan, the car’s ready, right? Let’s go.”
She pulled him toward the exit, and just before turning away, she gave Julian a look, half patient,
half helpless.
““Julian, I’m really not angry with you.”
‘You don’t need to apologize,‘ she repeated softly.
‘Just live well with Bianca–that’s the greatest kindness you could ever show me.‘
Her calm conviction left no room for doubt.
And she meant every word.
Before, when she was diagnosed with ALS after their marriage, it was Julian who stayed by her side, who took care of her until the very end. Even if that love may have started from obligation, he truly
gave her a lifetime.
In this life, many of her choices were made to repay that debt.
So since she had chosen to let go, she never held resentment.
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She was genuinely content with her current life and didn’t want it disrupted.
But she had underestimated just how stubborn Julian could be.
Within days, he bought a house near the Westwood villa, and moved in like he belonged there.
Even when Logan looked at him like he was ready to kill, Julian remained unfazed.
He dropped by every day like clockwork, smiling, polite, persistent, as if trying to earn her forgiveness with his actions.
Charlotte told him, over and over, that she didn’t hate him.
Julian just looked at her with warm, gentle eyes and said,
“You’re right. So this is no different from before. I’m just being the way I always was with you.”
He even learned to cook.
The table was filled with dishes like baked curry crab, red wine beef stew, and seared lobster tails. Charlotte picked up a piece with her fork and dabbed it in sauce, surprisingly, it wasn’t bad.
She gave a knowing smile and said lightly, “You used to avoid the kitchen like the plague. Looks like Bianca taught you well.”
E
She didn’t care at all that Julian’s face turned ghostly pale. She went on,
“She’s probably missing you back in Northbridge. You really should go home.”
“That’s not true, ” Julian began, but Logan cut him off.
“Charlotte, let’s eat.” Logan set her utensils in place and then turned to Julian, half–smiling, half–taunting. “Did you want to stay for dinner too?”
Julian immediately looked at Charlotte, eyes filled with quiet pleading.
“Would you… would you let me stay and eat with you?”
Charlotte didn’t even hesitate.
“You should go back home. There’s someone there waiting to eat with you.”
“What about the food I made, ?”
“Sorry,” Charlotte said, letting Logan serve her as she calmly continued, “I’ve been sick. The
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doctor said I need to follow a strict diet. I can’t eat anything you made.”
A sharp stab lanced through Julian’s chest.
“And one more thing, leave me alone.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze, her expression clear.
“We were a couple before, but now I have a boyfriend. It’s not possible for us to go back to how
things were.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “You showing up every day is already starting to affect our life
together.”
Julian’s hands, resting at his sides, began to tremble.
His voice was quiet, but obstinate. “You’re lying to yourself.”
His gaze was intense, burning a hole straight through her face.
Charlotte sighed, just as she turned her head slightly, and Logan leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was full of possessiveness, full of certainty. When he finally let her go, her breath was unsteady,
and her lips were flushed.
“This is my boyfriend,” Charlotte said clearly, meeting Julian’s eyes. “Logan Westwood.”
Logan glanced lazily at Julian, whose eyes were now rimmed with red, and added with mock
sympathy,
“Watching her explain things to you is exhausting. I honestly don’t know how you two used to make
it work.”
Julian couldn’t remember how he left the villa.
His mind kept replaying that same scene, Charlotte’s calm face, the way she and Logan had kissed,
and her teasing whisper as she turned toward Logan with a smile,
“What, sulking like that? Planning to drown yourself in a vat of jealousy?”
The weight in Julian’s chest felt suffocating.
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He practically fled back to the house he had bought nearby.
As soon as he stepped inside, he collapsed along the wall, sliding to the floor, gasping for breath
like a man drowning.
It took a long time for that overwhelming sense of suffocation to pass.
He just sat there, staring blankly at the ceiling, for an entire day and night.
The scent of burning returned, sharp and sudden, just like when he had once set all his memories
ablaze.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
And then… he saw it.
Flames, real ones, flickering in his peripheral vision.
Only then did it hit him.
The entire villa was on fire.
In the chaos, he seemed to catch a glimpse of the man he used to be, cold, ruthless, reaching out, choking Charlotte by the throat.
Her soft breath hit the back of his hand like a ghost.
And that tiny warmth made his soul shake.
