Chapter 8
Bianca’s POV
“Bianca…why’d you leave me?”
Hearing Tristan’s voice behind me sent a chill through my bones. I turned, and there he was, eyes red and full of pain.
Early winter’s chill was in the air, and he stood there in a long trench coat, hair ruffled by the wind. Suddenly, he pulled me into a tight embrace.
“This time,” he murmured, his grip like iron. “I won’t let you go again. Not ever.”
A deep rumble filled the air as his Rolls- Royce pulled up, purring like some sleek beast. There was no point denying it now- this reunion was happening. The car took us to an estate, and as we stepped out, Tristan’s hand clamped onto my wrist, holding on like I might vanish any second.
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“Do you know what? Since you left, I’ve searched so many places, asked countless people, but they all said they hadn’t seen you,” he said, voice cracking.
“How could you just disappear like that?” His bitter smile was lined with old pain.
“Luckily, I later remembered a message I saw on your phone and figured you‘ d come to Germany. So, I bought property here.”
With a sigh, he shook his head. “I
searched all over Germany these last three years. Never thought you’d be right under my nose at Blake’s company.”
Inside the house, I took a seat on the sofa and noticed the decor–it was an exact copy of the villa we once shared. Tristan knelt in front of me, laying bare the longing he‘ d carried all these years, telling me what happened after I left.
The day I called to say goodbye, he‘ d rushed home like a man possessed. But when he got there, all he found was the
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ring I left on the table and half a torn photo. Panic had taken hold of him then. He’d tried to call, but I’d already cut ties, leaving my phone behind. His world. shattered that night. He sent people to every train station and every airport, hoping to intercept me, but he never expected me to cover my tracks so thoroughly. By the time he figured out what I’d done, I was already across the ocean.
He said he spent days holed up in that empty house, hoping I might walk through the door again someday. But instead, he got a call from Sabrina–one meant for me. Sabrina, thinking I was still playing games to steal Tristan, thought taunting me might work. She had no idea I’d really gone for good.
I don’t know what she said in that call or how it twisted in Tristan’s mind, but that was when he finally understood why I’d left.
After hearing all this, I managed a faint.
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smile. “Tristan, if you knew all that, why did you come looking for me? Wouldn’t it be better to just stay with Sabrina and move on?”
He buried his face into my neck, and I felt his tears, warm against my skin. In a voice muffled and raw, he whispered, “I can‘ t live without you, Bianca. Please…don‘ t leave me again.”
I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes for a moment to find strength. “Bianca died three years ago,” I said softly. “The woman you‘ re looking at now is Maisie.”
He shook his head, almost frantically. “No -you’ll always be my wife. I don’t care what you call yourself. I’m not letting you go. Not ever.
Tristan had always been a man who held on to what he wanted, and I could see he wasn’t ready to give up now. But just then, my phone rang.
I glanced down and saw the calls–Russell
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And bro ring to wel van die
dipped from duk
