I turned and walked away without a shred of longing.
Julian stood frozen in the snow, as though his soul had been ripped out, watching me grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
He clutched that rusted pull-tab ring and suddenly charged after me like a madman.
"Vivienne, don't go! Look at me! Hit me, scream at me, anything! I can't live without you... I really can't."
Julian Ashford, a man who'd valued his pride above all else, collapsed in the snow on a foreign street, utterly wretched.
And I, looking at the smudge of dirt he'd left on the pocket watch case I'd just restored, felt nothing but bone-deep irritation.
He was always like this.
Selfish. Entitled.
When he trampled my dignity, it never occurred to him that I might hurt.
Now, showing up to perform devotion, he still had
