Tears fall against her cheeks, blending with the drops of rain that continue to pour down on us. “You’re not really—” I quickly cut her off. “Don’t you say that to me again, Sylvie Barclay. I don’t care about some stupid fucking contract. I love you. With my whole fucking chest, I love you. So don’t give me any of that shite about not being your real husband, because I’m right here. And I’ll never fucking leave you, not like they did.”
