---- Chapter 11 Julian Gallegos POV: | woke up screaming her name. "Khloe!" The world came into focus slowly. White walls. The smell of antiseptic. Helena' s face, hovering over me, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion. "Jules, thank God, you're awake," she said, trying to take my hand. | recoiled, yanking my hand away as if her touch burned. The memories were all there now, vivid and agonizing. Every cruel word |' d said, every brutal act I'd committed, played on a loop in my mind "Where is she?" | demanded, my voice a raw, desperate rasp. "Where's Khloe?" Helena' s face fell. "Jules, what are you talking about? Khloe is ... she's gone. She's dead." "No," | growled, trying to sit up, to rip the IV from my arm. "She's not dead. She can't be." The denial was a physical force, a shield against a truth so horrific | couldn't bear to face it. "I've already made arrangements for a memorial," Helena said softly, as if this were some comfort. "We can build a beautiful ---- tomb for her right here on the island." "She's not dead!" | roared, the sound ripping from my throat. | lunged out of the bed, my legs unsteady. | had to find her. | had to fix this. Doctors and nurses rushed in, trying to restrain me. | fought them with the strength of a madman. "Let go of me! | have to find my wife! | have to find Khloe They couldn't hold me down. | was a man possessed, fueled by a guilt so corrosive it was burning me from the inside out. | saw the fear in their eyes, the fear and the pity. One of them finally managed to plunge a syringe into my arm. A blessed, chemical calm began to creep through my veins, dulling the sharp edges of my panic, but not the deep, gnawing agony in my soul. "His memory," | heard one of the doctors say as my eyelids grew heavy. "The shock must have triggered a full recovery. It's rare, but it happens." The darkness took me again, but this time it wasn't empty. It was filled with her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her tears. Her pain. | was unconscious for three days. When | finally woke again, Helena was still there, sitting by my bed like a patient, waiting vulture. "Jules," she said, her voice soft and hopeful. "Do you remember now? It's me. Helena." ---- "| remember everything," | said, my voice cold and dead. | looked at her, at the woman for whom | had thrown away my entire world, and all | felt was a sick, churning revulsion. "Where is my wife, Helena?" Her face crumpled. "She's dead, Julian! Why can't you accept that? She hated you! She's the one who ruined you! But it doesn't matter. You have me now. | love you." She leaned in to kiss me, her scent, which | once found alluring, now turning my stomach. | turned my head away, my lip curling in disgust. "You're insane," | spat. The hurt in her eyes was quickly replaced by a bitter, venomous anger. The mask was off.