Leon staggered back two steps, like her words had physically punched through his chest.
His breath came out ragged, uneven. His hand clenched at his collarbone as though trying to keep his heart from falling apart.
The hallway was silent—too silent. The security guard had long disappeared, the lights overhead casting long, haunted shadows across his face.
And then—
He dropped to his knees.
Not in surrender.
But like something inside him had snapped.
Ella's chest tightened.
This wasn't the man who used to trap her in gold cages.
This was someone far more terrifying—someone stripped bare of memory, now choking on the truth.
He didn't scream.
He whispered her name like it was a lifeline.
"Ella…"
And when she didn't respond, his voice cracked.
"Tell me who I was. Please—before I lose my mind."
She should've walked away.
Should've turned her back on the man who once turned her world into a prison.
But watching him shatter like this…
God help her, she stayed.
He looked like a cathedral collapsing on itself—majestic, once powerful, now reduced to rubble by time and truth.
And his eyes—those dark, fevered eyes—weren't begging for redemption.
They were drowning in guilt he didn't even remember earning.
Suddenly, Leon clutched his head, groaning.
Images—flashes—assaulted him like a broken film reel on fire.
Glass. Screams. Her hands covered in blood.
He gasped.
"You were bleeding," he whispered. "I—No. I locked the door. You begged me not to. And I—"
He broke off, breath heaving.
Ella stepped back, horror dawning.
Because the man in front of her wasn't just remembering.
He was reliving it.
And as he looked up, tears running down his face—
He asked, voice shaking—
"Why didn't I stop myself?"