Chapter 392

In the smoking area, Julian's hand froze mid-air, cigarette dangling between his fingers. After a long silence, he finally ended the call. He'd looked into what Madeleine had gone through. But those reports had always been just facts on paper—no way to really feel what she must've felt back then. He took a deep drag, then crushed the burning cigarette right into his palm. Loosening his tie didn't help—he still felt like he couldn't breathe. With a sudden punch to the wall, his hand trembled from the impact. Blood slid down from his bruised knuckles, drop after drop. He hated himself. Hated that he realized things too late. Hated that instead of protecting her, he ended up being part of the hurt. Every bitter word he'd once said now felt like a knife stabbing into his own gut. ... Back at Julian's place. Hannah ran barefoot around the apartment. The place wasn't huge, but smack in the middle of Pinebrook's city center—definitely not cheap. A male model living somewhere like this? The re