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She takes them hesitantly, not understanding what I’m doing.

“You’re free. Use the money, the phone, to get you wherever you want to go. Tell Dierk to take you if you prefer. But you’re free to go. You’re not my slave or my captive. You’re free.”

She studies me for a moment and then she walks to the door.

“I love you, Eden. I love this baby. I still want you to be mine,” I say.

She doesn’t hesitate at my words. She simply walks out, leaving me alone.

I thought raping her would break her. I thought it would change her and force her to give me what I want.

Instead, she broke me.

One week after Eden left, I could barely get out of bed.

Three weeks after she left, I was so drunk all the time I couldn’t even think straight.

Six weeks after she left, and I’m now a broken man, not worth anything.

“I found her,” Dierk says, while I lie on the couch staring out the window.

“What?” I ask, sitting up abruptly.

“I found her,” he says again.

“Did she go back to her condo in Los Angeles? Or did she get a new apartment?”

“She didn’t go back.”

“Huh?”

“She didn’t go back,” Dierk says again, getting annoyed at having to repeat everything to me. “She’s staying in a hotel in the old downtown area. She’s working at a coffee shop as a barista. She stayed.”

She stayed.

She fucking stayed.

That must mean something. She still has feelings for me. She still wants me. She wants me to fight for her. Or she still has unfinished business. Whatever it is, I’m going to find out. Today.

I get up off the couch, needing to go to her immediately.

“Where are you going?” Dierk asks.

“To get Eden back.”

He runs in front of me, blocking my path to the garage.

“You aren’t going anywhere. One, you are drunk and are not driving a car. Two, Eden will not take you back in this state. You’ll just piss her off further. You are going to have to work hard to earn her trust back.”

I glare at him, but even in my haze, I know he’s right.

I sink back down onto the couch, hating myself for getting drunk again today. It takes me far too long sitting on the couch to realize what my next move should be.

“I need you to get me the number to the florist. I should at least send her flowers,” I say to Dierk, who has been standing over me to ensure that I don’t do anything crazy.

He nods. “It’s going to take a lot more than flowers to get her back.”

“I know, but it’s the best place to start.”

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