Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1220: I Gave All My Love to You

"Just now... I was about to faint, so I pretended to faint. When the Scorpion... took off his pants, I kicked him hard. He was in pain... his face changed, and he took out a knife, stabbing at me madly... seven or eight times..."

"As he stabbed me, I unexpectedly became clear-headed, I picked up... a sheet and choked his neck..."

"He struggled several times, he was strong, he almost... broke free, but I thought, if I died, I would never see you again..."

Dianna reached out her small hand, gently grasping his rough large one. She stroked his calluses with her soft fingertips, a testament to the years etched onto him.

She looked at him, her eyes as bright as stars in the sky, "Mort, you know it, I love you. I’ve never hidden my feelings for you over the years. Loving you means loving who you love, so I’ve been following in your footsteps. One day, I will be as brave as you, I will have the same beliefs as you, and I will live to be like you."

"Mort, I’ve held on to you, from now on, let there be less sadness and more happiness. So many people love you, and so do I."

She loved him, he always knew.

The girl’s soft voice rang in his ears, each word striking deep into his steely heart. He turned his hand and clasped her chilly hand in his palm.

He drove, eyes steadily focused ahead. The city’s neon lights refracted through the car window upon his handsome face, adding to his world-weary look.

Though he had dwelt in prosperity for years, prosperity was never his to claim, nor was he ever lost to longing.

The paths he had traveled over the years were winding, the thorns and harsh storms countless. Losing his parents young, wandering for the sake of his nation, the bloodshed left him scarred, accustomed to solitude.

Mort’s deep gaze carried a crimson tint, with a touch of moisture. With a slight smile, his hoarse voice laughed, "I’ve never counted the steps I’ve taken, the sacrifices made, nor what I’d gain. I never saw my parents for the last time, but my father left a note, just a few simple words, ’Be upright and decent.’"

"Sometimes I feel tired, surrounded by unfamiliar faces that inspire fatigue and disdain for this dirty gloom, yet I continue on. These days aren’t bad or good, until you appeared in my life."

"I still remember the first glimpse of you, in that dark room, when you jabbed a pencil into Carney Shaw’s right eye, decisive and strikingly impressive even then."

"As you grew, evolving feelings changed our course. You confessed your love, step by step you pressed close, I fled several times, not unwilling, just... afraid."

"Afraid of not finding a balance, one hand bears weight, the other love, fearing I’d fail the nation and you. Where in this world can both be served, neither forsake Buddha, nor forsake you?"

"More fearful that time ages us, that moments pass irretrievably, in your youthful radiance, how dare I... sing to you a song of love?"

"But ultimately I fell for, loved, adored the warmth you gave, dreamt of the love you offered, yearned to pause my journey, weary, worn, wounded, pained, lonely, longing for rest, longing for your presence."

"Wanting a home with you, wanting to speak of my parents, wanting earnestly to ask you, Dianna, I am imperfect, nearing forty. So, have you considered it well, don’t play with me, for it’s my first attempt at love, at romance."

"I wish to secretly confide, if I’ve brought you sorrow in the past, please forgive my clumsy heart, unsure, hesitant due to age, you young and I lacking, always pondering our future, searching for any glimpse of shared happiness, my heart belongs to you, my eyes are full of you, Dianna, these many years, I’ve loved you."

He said, Dianna, these many years, I’ve loved you.

Dianna smiled brightly, finally she heard it, his confession, his love.

Dianna’s slender body slowly lay down, her face resting on his strong thigh, reaching out her small hand, she touched the prosthetic on his right leg, a symbol of his greatest love for her.

Indeed, real heroes are blood and flesh, their vulnerabilities making them more admirable.

Dianna gently closed her eyes, "Mort, you know, when you left three years ago, I dreamt I was pregnant, had a daughter."

A daughter, how wonderful.

Mort smiled slightly, his large hand weaving into her dark hair, gently stroking her fair forehead, "If we had a daughter, what would her name be?"

His voice trailed off, silence lingering.

"Dianna..."

"Call her... Dot, as every moment, every dot, I’ve thought of you, each drop my love for you."

So, the daughter is named Dot.

Mort’s eyes rimmed red, and he nodded, "Alright, our daughter will be named Dot."

Fool.

They already have a daughter.

Dianna wished to speak, wanted to tell him, she’d already borne him a daughter.

But she was so tired, all her strength ebbing away, unable even to open her eyes.

Dianna closed her eyes, never reopening them.

She drifted to sleep.

She slept, never to wake again.

Mort dared not lower his gaze, too afraid to look down, his gripping fingers bulging with blue veins, his heart in agony, each breath a piercing pain, a pain that broke his soul.

Time looped back to nights from years past, alone across the world’s corners, with only the moon as company, sleeping alongside loneliness.

He was left behind.

Once again, he was alone.

The world was vast, yet his home vanished.

This life’s love, left without resting place.

He couldn’t understand the depth of this pain, twisting his heart in knots, heat blurring his vision, though dry-eyed, not a tear fell.

Now, both hands clutching the steering wheel, her body chilled on his solid thigh, his eyes suddenly moistened, something overflowed inside him.

One drop, two, three... tears fell blurring his sight.

How scalding tears are.

Seared his heart, consuming him entirely.

Time irreversible, and still, it was too late.

Dianna.

His Dianna.

Once he thought Dianna was a gift from above, and for years, it seemed fate favored him, but eventually, Dianna was reclaimed.

His broad, straight shoulders started shaking, never having cried, unaware what it’s like for men to weep, the pain inside unrelenting and unyielding, he bit his lip, anxious and lost.

Every flower withered, his world now barren.