Helena could have chosen to stay indoors.
But Julian knew isolation would only worsen her depression.
Because of that, he dragged her out of the apartment every single day.
"What is it?" Julian asked, catching the way her gaze darted around.
"Nothing. I just feel like someone is watching me. Probably the press," Helena murmured.
The stare had felt intense, almost searing.
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought it was Sebastian.
But she immediately brushed the idea off as absurd.
Paparazzi had been hounding them relentlessly lately, which was a much more logical explanation.
Thinking about it calmed her down.
Julian said dismissively, "Let them follow us. I don't care."
He didn't press the issue, guiding her back toward their apartment building.
Once inside, Julian turned to her with absolute seriousness.
"Helena, our flight is on Tuesday. Tomorrow is the weekend, so The Civil Affairs Bureau is closed. We're going in on Monday to get married," Julian declared.
"My..."
"I know your final divorce decree hasn't come through yet. It doesn't matter. It's just a piece of paper."
"Julian..."
"I just want you to be my wife."
Julian's words were blunt and uncompromising.
Helena stood quietly, lowering her gaze.
She felt entirely cornered by her circumstances, with nowhere left to run.
But she knew that to truly sever her toxic ties with Sebastian, she had to act.
Marrying Julian was undeniably the most definitive escape.
"Julian, it's not fair to you," she whispered.
"As long as you're my wife, fairness doesn't factor into it," he replied evenly.
A lump formed in Helena's throat, tears pricking her eyes.
She was deeply moved. Perhaps, she thought, it was finally time to let go.
"I'll handle the truth about Hope. Trust me," Julian added.
"Okay," she finally agreed after a long pause.


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