Page 2 of My Ruthless Husband

I turn my head, surprised to find a tall, handsome man standing way too close. My eyes widen, caught off guard by how near he is.

My worried gaze darts around. It’s reckless of him to approach me, let alone lean in with that flirtatious smile.

When he lingers, waiting for my response, it hits me—I’m in Paris. Away from Damian’s reach. Away from his bodyguards. The bodyguards who would’ve torn this man apart by now, made him regret even breathing in my direction.

This further proves I was just being paranoid earlier. Because if Hal were here, there’s no way this stranger would be standing so close.

“Um… no.” I answer finally, not missing how he avoided the other vacant stools.

His gray eyes glint as he slides on the stool beside me, evidently ignoring the awkwardness in my tone.

“Clément,” he says smoothly, extending his hand.

I force a tight smile, slipping my hand into his briefly. “Raven,” I lie.

I remain quiet as he orders gin and tonic for himself in fluent French. When he offers to buy me a refill, I politely decline.

“So what brings you here?” He asks, his accent thick as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m on the run.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

I nod slowly.

“You’re running from the law?”

I smile wryly at that. “No. Just from my lawfully wedded husband.”

The silence after my confession lasts for about a minute before he bursts out laughing. “You had me there.” Then he motions to my bare ring finger. “You have a great sense of humor.”

When I remain silent, he speaks again. “No, seriously. What are you doing here? Are you a tourist traveling alone?”

“Something like that. What about you?”

“Born and raised here. I…” His sentence trails off as his phone buzzes, cutting through the conversation. He slips a hand into his pocket, retrieving it. “Sorry, just a moment,” he says before bringing the phone to his ear.

But I’m already miles away in my head. My thoughts are pulling me under, dragging me to the one question that’s been pestering me—what now? Where do I go from here? I can’t keep running, constantly looking over my shoulder. This isn’t life.

And then, as if summoned by my despair, Damian’s face flashes in my mind. Breathtakingly beautiful but cold. The man I fell hopelessly in love with at first sight when I was just eighteen.

For four years, I’ve loved him but that wasn’t enough. I believed he could give me the love I’d craved my whole life.

He was my first love. My first everything. I gave him all of my love. And like the cruel unforgiving man he is, he took and took until I was empty.

He was the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in this world. But I was wrong. Love wasn’t enough to reach him.Iwasn’t enough.

I left everything behind for him—my father, my home, the comfort of my old life—and for what? To sit here now, broken and questioning every decision I’ve made.

Damian was supposed to be my safe place, my beginning and end. But instead, he’s the one who taught me what real loneliness feels like.

And yet, even after all of it, I can’t stop loving him.

Even after knowing he never loved me, I can’t stop loving him. My eyes brim with tears, and I swallow the lump in my throat, hating how weak I feel. I hate myself for this endless, foolish devotion to a man who barely cares.

At the mention of my name—well, the fake one I gave him—I glance his way, blinking back the tears. He’s still on the phone, leaning back in his seat, his words rolling off in French like he’s barely paying attention to the conversation.

He says something that makes me cock a brow. He catches my eye and holds up a finger, switching to English. “One minute,” he tells me with a lazy grin.

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