His Final Excuse, My New Fiancé

Settling into the back seat of Julian's black Bentley, a wave of weakness finally hit me.

The defiant courage that had sustained me moments before crumbled the instant the car door closed.

Ten years.

I had been the sole performer in a decade-long circus of my own making.

Now that I had smashed the stage with my own hands, I was left with the bone-deep exhaustion of being completely hollowed out.

"Why me?"

He was the one who broke the silence.

I turned my head to look at him. The dim light outlined the perfect contours of his profile, noble and distant.

"Because," I said, offering the most practical reason I could think of, "you're the one man Ethan can't afford to cross."

Hearing my words, instead of anger, he let out a low chuckle.

"Very honest."

He turned his head, and his deep gaze landed on my face, as if trying to see into the depths of my soul.

"Ava, I thought you were going to stick it out for another year."

I froze.

What did he mean by that?

"You… know me?"

"A few years ago, the night before the Columbia graduate design exhibition, your presentation file was maliciously corrupted. You lost the top prize."

My heart lurched.

This was something I had never told anyone.

I thought it was a computer virus at the time, that I was just unlucky.

"Further back, during that blizzard, you were lured to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city for a supposed 'surprise.' They locked you in overnight. You nearly died."

My breath hitched, my hands tightening unconsciously.

The cold and despair of that night clung to me like a festering wound, making me shudder even now at the memory.

When Ethan found me the next day, he held me and wept, saying it was all his fault, that he shouldn't have played such a prank on me.

I believed him.

I even foolishly comforted him, saying it was alright as long as he was okay.

Only later did I realize it was just one of their sick games.

"And—"

"Don't say any more!" I cut him off abruptly, my voice trembling.

Those scars I’d deliberately ignored—the ones I’d excused with a flimsy ‘he’s just playful’—were being peeled back one by one, laid bare and bleeding before me.

It hurt so much I could barely breathe.

It turned out I wasn't numb to the pain.

I just didn't dare admit that I had fallen in love with a complete and utter scumbag.

Julian didn't continue.

He just watched me quietly, his gaze holding no pity, no sympathy, only a deep emotion I couldn't comprehend.

"I've been waiting for you to see him for who he really is," he said, his voice calm, yet carrying a strangely soothing power.

"Waiting for you to be willing to turn around and see me."

I was stunned, unsure how to respond.

The car stopped in front of a penthouse apartment building.

"This is my place, but tonight, it's yours." He didn't come upstairs with me, just handed me a black key card.

"I'll give you the space to think. If you have any regrets by morning, the car will be downstairs to take you wherever you want."

The choice was entirely mine.

I clutched the card, still warm from his touch, and looked up into his bottomless eyes.

"And if I don't regret it?"

He reached out, his movements restrained yet gentle, and ruffled my hair.

"Then starting tomorrow, we're allies."

"I will help you take back everything you've lost."

He paused, his voice turning cold.

"And make them pay a hundred times over."