Storms of the Heart novel Chapter 29

Back at the townhouse that now seemed hollow without Trina, Julian locked himself in a darkened bedroom and pulled every curtain shut, shutting out all light and sound from the outside world.

Empty liquor bottles lay scattered across the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the heavy weight of his despair.

He sat on the floor with his back against the bed, tightly clutching a photo of Trina from her teenage years, taken secretly in the Flarora Rose Garden, its edges already yellowed with age.

Beside him sat a small recording device that kept looping a faint melody Trina had once hummed at home on a good day, a sound he had captured without her ever knowing.

That crisp yet slightly lazy tune now cut through him like the sharpest blade, carving the same wound over and over again.

At times, he let out a cracked, unhinged laugh. Other times, he buried his face against his knees and released muffled whimpers, small and raw like a wounded animal.

When a guard brought him food, he knocked everything to the floor in a burst of rage.

He whispered into the empty room, his voice hoarse and shredded. "Trin, come back. I'll give you my life… please? I'll give you everything… Just come back…"

A few days later, when he regained a shred of clarity, his eyes were hollow and inscrutable. Yet deep within them burned a fire twisted by obsession and madness.

He mobilized every resource at his disposal, including shadowy contacts, spreading a worldwide net and offering massive rewards for any trace of Trina.

The bounty was staggering, enough to make anyone rich overnight.

But at the same time, Julian was ruthless toward anyone who dared provide false leads or tried to cheat the bounties, quickly earning the nickname "The Reaper" in Flarora's underworld.

The Hauser family elders could no longer stand by. They couldn't watch the family's most promising scion completely destroy himself over a woman.

In the study of the Hauser residence, his uncles and senior relatives pressed him harshly, demanding he forget Trina and remarry someone else as soon as possible for the sake of the family's interests. They even threatened to suspend him from the military and strip him of some authority.

Julian listened in silence, his face impassive.

Only after his relatives had finished speaking did he slowly lift his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. The obsession and madness in his eyes sent a chill down the spines of even the most seasoned family elders.

He suddenly drew the military-grade knife he always carried. Before the horrified eyes of everyone present, he didn't hesitate and brutally sliced off his left pinky.

A sharp spray of blood erupted instantly. The severed pinky fell onto the polished hardwood floor with a faint thud.

Julian's face was deathly pale, and cold sweat beaded his forehead, yet he didn't even flinch.

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