Chapter
Chapter 4
The servant grew frantic. “Ma’am, Mr. Julian and Dr. Emma… a man and woman alone in there together. You need to go check on them!”
“No need.”
I limped downstairs toward the surveillance room.
To care for Julian properly, I’d secretly installed micro-cameras throughout the house. Even the faintest sounds transmitted clearly through the earpiece.
On the monitor, Emma’s gentle voice came through my headphones: “Julian, this is your wife’s wedding dress. I can’t touch it…”
Julian looked down at her torn dark suit and spoke with his usual calm tone. “Ripped.”
ཟྭ ཥ ཾ རྗ ་ ྃ ཇོ ཉོ ཏྲྰཾ
“It’s okay.” Emma took his hand, her voice tender. “Ripped is fine. It doesn’t matter.”
Julian stared at her for a moment.
Suddenly, he stood up and began forcibly removing her clothes while muttering, “Can’t wear ripped clothes. Can’t wear…”
Emma froze, but she was no match for his strength.
Soon her dark business suit lay in tatters.
Julian forced the white wedding dress onto Emma’s body.
Like a man with OCD, he smoothed every wrinkle in the fabric over and over. Emma retreated under his persistent attention, laughing breathlessly.
Finally, she couldn’t help but tease, “Julian, you’re like my personal assistant.”
Julian stopped cold.
He stared at her and said icily, “I’m not the assistant. Diana is.”
In the surveillance room, I squeezed my eyes shut and ripped off the headphones.
He was right.
I was the real caretaker.
For seven years, I’d served Julian like a maid.
Right after the kidnapping, entertainment media had swarmed Julian, desperate to dig into his private life. Everyone was curious whether this cold, noble genius could maintain his elegance after such trauma.
But they got nothing.
Because I protected him too well.
I shadowed him 24/7, like his personal ghost.
During that period, Julian’s light sensitivity from his blindness left him emotionally withdrawn. He couldn’t even dress himself properly, often walking around
disheveled.
Whenever I tried to help, Julian would instinctively swat my hands away. He despised all physical contact, throwing household items around like a manic patient.
Shards everywhere.
He’d walk barefoot across broken glass, expressionless, as if he felt no pain.
I could only hold him tight, enduring the blows to my back as I slowly helped him dress.
During his episodes, he never held back.
I could taste blood rising from deep in my chest.
Chapter 4
But I still spoke to him gently: “Julian, you can’t wear ripped clothes. We need to pull ourselves together, okay?”
Seven years had passed.
I thought Julian had forgotten those words.
But he remembered them perfectly-and repeated them word for word to Emma.
Suddenly, I wanted to laugh.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth and absently touched the scar on my shoulder.
It was scabbing over now. Itchy.
This relationship needed to heal too-through ending.
The servant beside me suddenly offered tissues. “Ma’am, please don’t cry…”
I blinked, realizing my face was wet.
I took the tissues and looked back at the monitor.
Julian was fastening the hidden clasps on the back of Emma’s dress.
The two figures intertwined intimately, their relationship unmistakably intimate.
I lowered my head, walked out of the surveillance room, and silently typed a message to my lawyer:
Regarding the divorce-
