Page 215 of My Ruthless Husband

He misinterprets my tears, assuming they’re for something entirely different, because he says “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve you. But I need you to know—the man you saw on that trip, that was me. The real me. Every moment we shared, every laugh, every touch, was as real as the beat of my heart. As real as my love for you.”

I grip his shirt tightly, my tears soaking through the fabric as they spill uncontrollably. I want to tell him I believe him, to give him some kind of reassurance, but the words just won’t come. All I can do is cry.

“I used to think I had no heart, but when you left, I felt it crack wide open, like it was dying inside me,” he says, tightening his hold as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away again.

“I searched everywhere for you. I went through hours and hours of CCTV footage of every highway, every airport. Flew to Paris, even to Scotland—everywhere I thought you might be. And you weren’t anywhere.” I feel his chest rise and fall unevenly. “Every minute, I was paralyzed with fear, imagining the worst. You were out there, all alone. No money, no protection. Wondering if you were safe, if you were even alive. It was like being trapped in a nightmare, one I couldn’t wake up from.”

His pulls me impossibly closer, like he can’t bear the thought of any space between us. “I hired countless PIs. Followed every lead, barely sleeping between flights. That’s how I found you here.”

His words piece together the fragments of my shattered heart, mending each crack.

I bury my face into his chest, my tears flowing freely as his love seep into my soul.

“I can’t do it, River. I can’t live without you. I simply don’t want to.”

“Damian…” I manage to whisper.

“Let me speak. Please,” he pleads. “I’ve buried everything so deep inside me for so long. You begged me to open up, and I didn’t. You gave me your heart on a silver platter, again and again, and all I gave you was silence. But not anymore. You deserve to hear it all.”

He cups the back of my head, gently pressing my face against his chest once more. “How could you ever believe that I hated you? You’re the only light I’ve ever had in this dark, jaded life of mine. The only reason I’ve survived this long. Without you… I have no reason to exist.”

His confession crashes into the fragile remnants of my strength, breaking me even as they start to put me back together. It shatters and saves me all at once. My body can’t take it anymore, the exhaustion of my heartbreak followed by the overwhelming relief by his love confession take its toll and the darkness swallows me whole.

???

“Damian!” I jolt upright, gasping as the remnants of a restless sleep cling to me. My voice is loud enough to echo through the guestroom.

Mrs. Hawthorne is already by my side. She leans forward slightly. “Easy now, love,” she says, concerned. “You need to rest.”

I blink, disoriented. “Where’s my husband? What time is it?”

She glances at the antique clock resting on the mantle. “It’s seven in the morning,” she replies. “He had to leave. Some... unsavory types with cameras were outside the house, causing a ruckus. He went to sort it out.”

Paparazzi? My pulse quickens.

“Are they still out there?”

She shakes her head. “Not anymore. But your husband did insist I keep you indoors until he gets back.”

Her words don’t really register as I push off the plush bedding, my bare feet meeting the cool, polished wood floor. “I—I need to see him.”

I choose Damian. Now and forever.

I chose him when I was eighteen, when I fell in love with him at first sight. I chose him again at twenty, when life threw us back together. I chose him when I was twenty-one, defying my father to marry him. And now, I’m going to choose him again.

He asked me in Scotland if I’d choose him again. If I’d try to make our marriage work. At the time, I didn’t know about his past. But I chose him anyway. And now, after knowing everything, I wholeheartedly choose him once again. And I need to tell him that.

Last night, I couldn’t. Couldn’t force the words past my trembling lips.I love you. Why was it so hard to tell the truth when my heart was crying it out loud?

I couldn’t tell him I forgave him when he was apologizing for everything. And I couldn’t ask for forgiveness myself—for running, for shutting him out, for not staying to fight for us when I should have.

But he said he wants me back. And God, I want him back too.

“Don’t be daft. He’ll be back soon, probably by evening at the latest. He’s staying in the village, and once he’s able, he’ll be right back here. There’s no need to fret.”

“Did he say where he’s staying?”

She shakes her head softly. “No, darling. He was in a rush. Poor thing. He left before you woke up. But let me tell you, River, he didn’t leave because he wanted to. He left because he had to. You were unconscious, your fever so high he was beside himself. He called for a doctor right away. He only let the doctor go around two this morning—after your fever finally broke.” Amusement glinting in her eyes. “You’re a lucky girl. Your husband stayed up all night even after the doctor reassured him. Not a wink of sleep. He wouldn’t leave your side. Kept me awake as well with all the pacing and noise,” she adds, grumbling with no heat.

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