The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 251

Gideon's hand hovered in the air, his fingers trembling slightly. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with remorse and guilt.

His mind had been entirely consumed with taking down Julian and dragging Giselle back home.

He hadn't realized she was the one who rushed forward to intervene. He thought it was security from The Club, or maybe one of Julian's assistants.

If he had known it was Nora, he never would have...

"I'm taking you to a doctor."

Gideon bent down, carefully avoiding Nora's mutilated palms, and lifted her from the coarse, gravel-strewn ground.

The harsh scent of antiseptic filled the medical room.

Dr. Marcus Reed picked up a saline-soaked cotton ball and meticulously began cleaning the dirt and tiny pebbles embedded in the wounds across Nora's palms and wrists.

Nora's slender shoulders flinched uncontrollably. She bit down hard on her pale lower lip, forcing herself to swallow any sound of pain.

Gideon remained by her side, refusing to step away for even a second.

Leaning against the cold examination chair, Nora stared at the man's handsome profile. It was etched with guilt and even a hint of helplessness. A bitter, numb smile formed in her mind.

What was the point of all this?

He was always like this. One second, fueled by a few words from Giselle or the slightest hint of her being wronged, he would turn into the most ruthless demon. He would use his devastating power to shatter Nora's dignity and destroy everyone around her, tossing her into the mud like trash without a second glance.

Then the next second, once the storm had passed and he realized she was the one bleeding, he would suddenly turn around. He would put on this display of self-torturing guilt, acting like a considerate, attentive husband.

She had been his wife for three whole years. For over a thousand days and nights, she had swallowed her pride and smoothed out her rough edges, playing the flawless Mrs. Hayes in the villa.

And yet, in the end, when he lost his mind in a fit of rage, she had thrown herself into the chaos to stop him, only to fail at even grabbing the corner of his jacket.

A sharp gasp escaped Nora's lips as the stinging pain flared, a fine layer of cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.

His right hand, resting at his side, repeatedly reached into his pocket to pull out his sleek black personal phone.

He hit the power button. The screen lit up, reflecting his exhausted, bloodshot eyes.

No new messages. No missed calls.

The large screen remained agonizingly blank.

Looking utterly devastated, he locked the device and shoved it back into his pocket.

Two minutes later, the exact same cycle repeated.

He was waiting for Giselle to reach out.

He was waiting for the girl he had spoiled rotten since childhood to send a soft, apologetic text after her tantrum, just like she always did.