Julian came to a bar and got drunk, the dim lights barely reaching the turmoil etched on his face. The air hung thick with the stench of stale beer and regret. The amber liquid in his glass slopped precariously as his trembling hand failed to find solace in its embrace.
Each gulp was a bitter reminder of his folly. The truth he had learned this morning gnawed at his soul, tearing apart the illusions he had built around Ruby. He had trusted a woman, who had been deceiving him since the very beginning. But he had ignored all evidence against her, believing that she had been framed.
How could he have been so blind, so foolish, to believe in her innocence?
Daphne's words echoed in his mind. The truth, stark and unforgiving, had ripped away the facade he had clung to. Ruby's tearful pleas, and the vulnerability she had painted, had all been a masterful performance, a cruel manipulation he had fallen for.
