---- Chapter 17 Julian Gallegos POV: | couldn't stay away. The next day, | went to their compound. | waited outside the gates like a beggar, ignoring the suspicious stares of the guards. | had to speak to her. | had to make her listen. When she and Gordon finally emerged, | stepped in front of them, blocking their path. Mark was with me, holding my arm, trying to keep me steady. "Khloe," | said, my voice trembling. She flinched at the sound of her name, her face hardening into a cold, impenetrable mask. She didn't even look at me. She just kept walking, trying to move around me. "Khloe, please," | begged, stepping in front of her again. "I remember. | remember everything. | know what | did. I'm so sorry." She stopped, her eyes finally meeting mine. There was no softness in them, no flicker of the love that once lived there. Only ice. "l punished Helena," | said, my words tumbling out in a desperate torrent. "| took her voice, just like | took yours. | left ---- her with nothing. | did it for you." | thought it would matter. | thought seeing my remorse, knowing | had avenged her, would crack the ice. It didn't. She just stared at me, her silence more damning than any accusation. "Do you know this man?" Gordon asked her, his voice low and protective. He placed a hand on her shoulder, positioning himself between us. Khloe looked from me to him. Then, she did something that shattered the last of my resolve. She shook her head. A small, simple, devastating gesture. No. Then she reached out and took Gordon's hand, her fingers lacing with his. The sight of their joined hands was like a physical blow. "Get your hands off her," | snarled at him, my voice cracking. "She's my wife." "She doesn't seem to agree," Gordon said coolly, his eyes hard. "And from what I've heard about you, Mr. Gallegos, you lost the right to call her that a long time ago." He knew who | was. Of course, he did. She must have told him everything. She had given my story, our story, to him. "This is between me and my wife," | said, trying to push past him. He was stronger than he looked. He held his ground. "She ---- made her choice. Now leave her alone, before | have you removed." | looked at Khloe, my eyes pleading. "Khloe, please. Come home. Let me fix this." | reached for her. My fingers brushed her arm, and she flinched away so violently it was as if | had burned her. Gordon shoved me back. "Don't touch her." The force of the push sent a sharp pain through my abdomen. | doubled over, gasping, the world greying at the edges. | looked up, just in time to see them walking away, hand in hand. She didn't look back. Not even once. As | watched them go, | saw them turn into the hospital's rehabilitation wing. A sign on the door read 'Speech & Vocal Therapy.' My blood ran cold. The voice. Her voice. It wasn't fully healed. The beautiful, melodic voice | had taken from her... she was still fighting to get it back. All this time, she had been communicating with him, laughing with him, using sign language or a notepad, while she was privately, painfully working to repair the damage | had done. The depth of my monstrosity hit me with fresh, agonizing force. | hadn't just broken her heart and her body. | had stolen her very ability to speak her pain. A wave of self-pity, hot and shameful, washed over me. She ---- had him. She had a new life. What did | have? Nothing. Just this endless, deserved agony. My life without her wasn't a life. It was a punishment. And it was one | couldn't bear any longer.