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He takes a deep breath, any remnants of his rage draining out of him.

“You saved my life. You saved Baptiste’s life. You did what I could not, and you ended it.”

I remember the look on his face as his father revealed who he really was.

No one should ever, ever go through something like that.

“I only did what you would’ve done for me,” I say.

“But you did it,” Clement says. “He hurt you. You were dying. And yet you still had the balls to get up, while I stood there like an idiot and watched it happen.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, Clement. You stopped his other attack. You grabbed his hand. What else could you do? I’m just sorry I had to do it. I’m so sorry to both of you. He was your father.”

For a heartbeat, no one speaks.

“That was not my father,” Clement whispers. “My true father died a long time ago when he murdered your parents. You did the right thing, Fabien.”

“You think so?” I ask, voice weak.

“Elise knocked some sense in me as well.”

Jolie takes his hand, her tears still streaming down her cheeks.

“He tried to kill you, Fabien,” she says. “He tried to kill Baptiste.”

My own breath catches in my throat. I can still feel my hand around the handle of that knife. I can feel the rip of the blade as I pulled it out of my flesh to plunge it into Cromwell’s heart.

“He was the man who raised all of us... who betrayed all of us,” I say. “I did what I had to do, but I know I will never get over it. I wish I had never had to do that.”

“That man caused so much pain and hurt,” Clement replies. “However long it takes, we will get through it.”

“We will get through it together,” Jolie adds.

“Yes,” Clement says. “Together.”

“Together,” I reply with a nod.

“And the art gallery,” Clement mutters. “Fabien, I...”

I shake my head.

“Nothing needs to be said.”

“Good.”

“Although you do owe me for a few priceless artworks you destroyed.”

Clement lowers his eyes. He swallows.

“I want to say this,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few days. I had days to cool down. I think I was so focused on protecting Jolie that I never stopped to think about what she might want, and if she even needed my protection at all.”

Jolie’s looking at her brother with love. She whispers his name.

“Clement.”

“She’s been waiting here for you ever since you were put in the back of the ambulance,” her brother explains. “She hasn’t slept. She hasn’t eaten.”

I look at my woman.