Chapter 21 #2
“You knew the reason for my struggles, for me being different! Everything I ever wanted to know! Everything I was trying to research, you fucking knew!”
“Every time I asked, you made me feel like I was crazy for even questioning you. Like I was the problem. Like I had trust issues. But it was you.” My voice cracked, thick with rage and disbelief.
“You gaslighted me. You acted like I was just obsessing over nothing—like you were only keeping some classified shit from me, you weren’t allowed to share. ”
I was breathing too hard.
“You kept secret after secret after secret. You didn’t hesitate to shut down my translation to keep me hidden, to make sure no one detected me—but telling me why? That was too much?”
"Emma, please, try to understand. Julian told me not to tell you and the only reason I agreed was so he’d leave the continent. The only thing I did was uphold my end of the deal," James pleaded, clearly hoping for some…whatever it was he wanted.
“Oh, fuck off, James, that’s such bullshit!
” I slammed my fist against the wall, needing the pain to anchor me.
“You don’t give a shit about upholding rules or orders.
I’ve seen you bend and break the rules for me the entire year.
Hell, this whole thing between us started with you covering up a fucking murder for me!
Or was it an attempted murder? Because you never really told me what happened with that either! ”
My chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths.
“The only time you actually ever follow rules or orders is when you’re hiding things from me.
Why is that? Could it be because it conveniently legitimizes your reluctance to share anything?
Because if there’s one thing that’s clear, it’s that you only do whatever you think is right, even if it means keeping the truth from me. ”
“No, Emma, I?” he began, but I cut him off.
“Do you trust me?”
James blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, James. I know you love me, in your own fucked up way, but do you trust me? Do you believe I’d protect you? That I’d guard your secrets? Do you trust my judgment?”
I stepped closer.
“Do you believe in your girlfriend enough to let her choose for herself? Do. You. Trust. Me?”
He hesitated for a moment too long, and I closed my eyes, feeling the crushing pain of his indecision settle over me.
“I get it,” I said quietly. “Given your past, I understand why it's hard for you to let someone in. I really do. But here’s the thing, James—by withholding that faith in me, you've become someone I can’t rely on either. You took the choice out of my hands. You decided what was best without even telling me.”
I looked him in the eye, voice steady even though I was breaking inside.
“And the worst part? You kept me small—not to protect me, but to protect your secrets.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I added, “You betrayed me.”
His response came quickly, almost too quickly. “I swear, Emma, on my life, I wanted to tell you everything, but I couldn’t risk him coming back. I couldn’t risk people finding out about it, you’d be in so much danger.”
I heard the words, but something was missing—he lacked the conviction I so desperately wanted. The truth was buried somewhere beneath his excuses, and though he wasn’t ready to face it, I already knew.
“Stop lying to yourself, James. We could’ve figured it out—together. You and me.” I clenched my fists, holding myself together even as the betrayal clawed its way through my ribs.
“I thought…” My voice cracked. “I truly believed there was a solid us. Something unshakable. But maybe I was wrong, because I’ve never felt more alone in my life.”
A sob tore from my throat—raw, and involuntary.
“Everyone lied to me. But you—you were the one I trusted most.”
My hands flew to my face as the tears came fast and hot, unstoppable now.
“I trusted you with everything,” I choked, the words breaking apart under the weight of my grief. “I gave you all of me. Every piece. And still you… How could you do this to me?”
My breath hitched, the final word barely getting out—
“Again?”
James grew very still.
“Why did you keep this from me?” I whispered as I wiped the tears from my face. I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I had been before I came here.
James swallowed hard, his face etched with remorse, but I couldn’t take it.
He took a step closer.
“No!” I yelled as he reached out. He stopped dead in his tracks, panic and hurt flashing across his features as he started to realize he’d already lost me.
“I’m so sorry, Emma, I—” he began, but I cut him off.
“No!” I screamed, pointing a shaky finger at his chest, my whole body trembling with fury. “You did this…again.” His betrayal was unbearable, the wounds he reopened now deeper than ever before. “And then, you let him do it to me again!”
"Emma…" His voice trailed off, struggling to find the right words. I could see in his eyes how he longed for my forgiveness, to make me understand, to believe he had no other choice. But I couldn’t give him that.
"No!" I yelled again. "I don’t trust you anymore!"
The impact of my words hit him like a physical blow. He staggered back, visibly shaken by my rejection. The shock of it rippled across his face, as if he hadn’t fully grasped how much I’d already slipped away.
He reached for me—as if somehow a touch would fix everything. But each time he moved toward me, I took a step back, my body instinctively recoiling from him.
"I can’t…" I whispered, shaking my head. I needed distance, space to breathe, to think. The very sight of him—the man I’d once trusted more than anyone—felt suffocating. My chest felt tight, my head spinning with too many emotions to untangle.
His voice was a low growl, conviction lacing every word.
“I swear, Emma, you are my everything. You are my fucking world. You have my faith in you, my love, my honor, my title. Anything you want—you fucking have it! You own it all. My body, my mind, my soul. Every thought I have, every word I say, everything I do, everything I’ve done since we’ve met. ”
He paused, his expression brimming with vulnerability, his entire being laid bare before me. I could see it—how deeply he loved me, how desperately he wanted me, needed me.
“You fucking own me.”
It took every ounce of strength I had to meet his gaze, to hold my ground. To not let the love I still felt for him drown out the betrayal. Because I had no more energy left to fight for it.
With a hoarse voice and trembling lips, I whispered, “But you don’t own me.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible. I saw the devastation in his eyes, sensed it in the quiet that followed. But there was no turning back. And then, with three final words, I shattered everything—our love, our relationship, our future—into a million pieces.
“We are over.”