The brothers who fought for me (by Levi Bennett) novel Chapter 20

20 /22

**A Promise Lost Between Two Worlds by Jaxon Hale Ryder**

“I accept your reasoning,” Juliette replied, her voice steady yet laced with an underlying tension.

“But those three years? I cannot find it in my heart to forgive,” she added, her words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

“If there’s nothing more to discuss, I will take my leave now. Giovanni, I believe it’s best for us to part ways and not meet again,” she stated firmly, her resolve hardening with each syllable.

With a swift motion, Juliette grabbed her bag, deliberately avoiding Giovanni’s piercing gaze that felt like it could burn a hole through her back. She turned on her heel, striding toward the door with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

As she walked away, she replayed his explanation in her mind, but instead of the relief she had envisioned, she felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal wash over her.

Her heart tightened painfully in her chest, as if a vice were clamping down, suffocating her.

No matter how one might spin the tale of Giovanni and Leilani, one truth remained glaringly evident.

During those three long years, the man she had loved with every fiber of her being had been the very one to push her into the arms of someone she loathed, allowing that person to manipulate her emotions like a puppet on strings.

Juliette bit down hard on her lower lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Julie,” Giovanni’s voice broke through her thoughts, raw and pleading.

Just as she reached for the door handle, she felt a sudden, firm grip around her wrist, as if a flame had ignited at the point of contact. The strength of his hold was alarming, making her bones feel as if they might splinter under the pressure.

Turning her head slowly, she found herself ensnared by Giovanni’s gaze, his eyes dark and tumultuous, like ink swirling in water.

The cold, silent accusation in her eyes pierced through him, leaving Giovanni feeling utterly exposed.

Since their childhood, he had been the recipient of her warmth, her admiration, her love. Yet now, she regarded him with such a chilling detachment that it felt as though he were staring into the abyss.

The sensation was like a dagger twisting in his heart, the pain so intense that it stole his breath away.

In that moment, he felt like a lost child, realizing the gravity of his mistakes, and he released her wrist, his voice barely a whisper: “I’m sorry, Julie, I didn’t mean to…”

But his words faltered, caught in his throat as his gaze fell upon Juliette’s neck. There, near the small red mole she had always had, was a conspicuous, ambiguous red mark—a reminder of something he had never wanted to know.

He didn’t need to question; he already knew who had left it.

It was a memory that haunted him, one that began when he was seventeen, abruptly thrust into an equestrian class at noon without a moment to inform Juliette of his absence.