Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

Chapter 11

Atlas’s vision cleared, the haze of rage dissipating, leaving behind nothing but a cold, steely resolve.

“Take her to the police.” His voice was devoid of emotion, final.

A sharp gasp filled the air as Ivy struggled to fill her lungs with oxygen, her body wracked with violent coughs. She clutched at her throat, her breath hitching as she stared at him in disbelief, horror mingling with desperation.

“No… you can’t do this to me,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Atlas, you love me!” Her eyes glistened with hysteria. “You promised–you said you’d always protect me!”

Atlas didn’t spare her a second glance.

With a curt wave of his hand, his security team moved in, grabbing Ivy as she thrashed in their hold, her screams echoing through the vast estate.

The moment the door slammed shut, the house was plunged into an eerie stillness.

Atlas inhaled sharply, forcing his racing heart to steady. “Still no sign of Celeste?”

The answer came quickly. “No, sir. There’s been no trace of her.”

His throat tightened. Without another word, he turned and ascended the stairs, his footsteps heavy as he entered our

bedroom.

The bed was untouched, the sheets still faintly carrying my scent. Atlas lowered himself onto the mattress, burying his face into the pillows as if he could will me back into existence.

His fingers brushed against a single long strand of hair left behind on the fabric. Carefully, he picked it up, cradling it against his chest.

A breath trembled from his lips. And for the first time in years, a single tear slid silently down his face.

are you?”

lay on my pillow, staring at the ceiling, the past rushing back with

I had looked at him on those late nights, my gaze hazy with love.

his name, curled up against his chest, believing that I

sharp, searing

for air, but it felt like a weight was pressing down on

had to get

down the stairs, shoving open the front door as

22:34

Years of Love, Seven Minutes of

72.3%

Chapter 11

burning skin.

didn’t

lingering memory was like a blade against his already torn apart soul.

staggered toward the driveway, his body moving on instinct, but

grand entrance, his hands gripping his hair, his eyes vacant.

at first, then heavier, until it was a downpour.

water seeped into his clothes, his skin, his bones, but the numbness had already settled in long

body swayed, exhaustion dragging him under.

everything went black.

other side of

trickling down my skin as I pressed forward, my boots digging into the

ragged, my limbs heavy, but as I

stood just ahead, towering against

tugged at my lips. With one last