Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go: Part 2 – She Would Have No Ties With Julian

As Seraphina made her way to Crobert Hospital, the Internet was filled with comments about her diagnosis. Her name appeared across countless threads.

“To be honest, I think Seraphina’s brave. She’s clear about her feelings as well as boundaries. Quite impressive, actually.”

“Exactly. A lot of people like Julian. As long as she’s not wrecking his marriage, her feelings are her own business.”

“Her older videos and that livestream from Crest Villa gave me a glimpse into rich people’s lives. It’s sad she won’t be around much longer.”

“Who’s Julian’s wife, though? She should just let him be with Seraphina. The girl has only six months left.”

“I know her. It’s Elara Vance, a musician. She stopped working after she got married and became a full-time housewife.”

…

At Crobert Hospital, Elara’s phone kept buzzing. Calls and messages came one after another.

Some people acted concerned. Others wanted information. A few tried to mock her. All of it was about Seraphina and Julian.

Elara had read just enough of the headlines to understand what was going on with Seraphina’s illness.

She didn’t click on anything else.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Once the divorce was finalized, Julian would no longer be a part of her life.

She checked the time. When she looked up, she saw Maya walking toward her.

“How are you feeling?” Maya asked, concerned. “Any pain?” She saw the strain on Elara’s face and, without needing to be asked, reached out to help her rise.

Elara gave a small smile and shook her head.

She had made up her mind. Some things simply had to be faced.

Maya understood, but she just sighed and helped Elara up. They took the elevator.

The elevator doors soon opened at the ground floor.

The hospital was packed. Even more than usual. Elara noticed a few reporters scattered in the crowd.

“So many people today. Probably another celebrity here for a check-up,” Maya said.

“They always bring this kind of attention…” She stopped at once, her face changing. She had seen something and quickly tried to lead Elara in the other direction.

But there was no point. Elara had already spotted them.

Julian stood tall, striking in a way that drew attention without effort.

The noise and movement around him didn’t touch him–his hair perfectly in place, his suit smooth and sharp, like the chaos didn’t dare come close.

Seraphina stood beside him. She looked small and weak, her face pale, which made her seem even more fragile.

She lost her balance slightly. Julian stepped in to catch her, shielding her from the cameras and the crowd.

“Don’t look,” Maya said quickly, stepping in front of Elara, her tone sharp with anger.

“Maya, let’s go,” Elara said, her voice calm. She had made up her mind; Julian didn’t need to know she was there, and she had no interest in crossing paths with him now.

“Why should we go?” Maya snapped, growing more furious. “You’re not divorced yet. He’s still your husband. And he’s here holding another woman like it’s nothing. It’s shameless.”

Husband…

Elara looked away, sighing.

There was a time she had secretly smiled just thinking about Julian being her husband.

But not anymore.

“I don’t feel well, Maya. Let’s just go,” Elara said, changing the topic.

Maya gave her full attention now and stopped looking in Julian and Seraphina’s direction.

They left. Across the lobby, Seraphina glanced over. A flicker of pride passed through her face.

“I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess,” she said, a tinge of remorse in her voice. “I know you hate being in the spotlight…”

“It’s fine,” Julian replied. “Let’s go see the doctor first.” His face stayed calm, but something stirred in his thoughts–something brief, hard to name.

They stepped into the consultation room.

Seraphina handed over her medical record to the doctor.

The doctor read through it, slowly, and frowned.

“This looks serious,” he said.

Seraphina gave a faint smile. “I know,” she said quietly. Then she took a slow breath. “Please prescribe something strong for the pain.”

“In your current condition, I suggest you stay in the hospital and begin treatment,” the doctor said. “You should try. There’s still a chance we can extend your life.”

“What’s the point?” Seraphina gave a sad smile.

She brushed away the tears building in her eyes, and then said quietly, “I don’t want treatment.”

Julian’s fingers curled tighter around hers.

She gave a small shake of her head.

“Doctor, I just want to spend the last phase of my life with some dignity,” she said. “So, please prescribe some strong painkillers.”

The doctor sighed deeply but finally nodded in understanding.

Outside, reporters were taking photos and recording videos without pause before posting them online.

People watching were emotional.

“Good heavens, this is a real person whose life is ending.”

“I cry when I’m in mild pain. I can’t imagine what late-stage cancer feels like. But she still manages to smile. She’s really strong.”

“I couldn’t hold back tears when she said she wouldn’t go through treatment. Only people who’ve faced serious illness understand this feeling.”

Public sympathy for Seraphina reached its highest point.

…

Seraphina soon got her medicine, and as she and Julian walked out of the hospital, Elara was sitting on a bench nearby. She was waiting for Maya, who had gone to get the car.

Before Elara could respond to what was happening, paparazzi noticed her and rushed over.

The camera flashes came all at once.

Julian saw her too. He frowned and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Elara stood up, glanced at Julian, and then at Seraphina’s hand resting on his arm.

She didn’t speak yet. The crowd didn’t give her the chance.

“Mrs. Croft, did you come because of what’s online? Are you trying to catch them together?”

“What do you think of your husband being out in public with someone else?”

“Mrs. Croft, what are you planning to do about Seraphina?”

People quickly decided that Elara had shown up on purpose–to face Seraphina directly, to start something.

Even Julian thought the same.

He looked annoyed.

“Seraphina is sick. Didn’t you know?” he barked.

Julian’s voice was brimming with menace.

Elara felt like laughing.

So that was what he believed–that she was picking a fight on purpose with someone who was ill.

Julian really didn’t know her.

Seeing Elara didn’t answer, the reporters turned to Seraphina, asking questions about breaking up someone’s marriage.

Julian looked at Elara again. “Elara!” he called. He wanted her to defend Seraphina.

Like always, he expected her to do what he wanted.

But the will to please him was gone.

She was walking away from him–there was no reason left to obey.

Elara placed her right hand over her stomach. The dull ache was still there.

“I came to visit a friend,” she said finally.

She didn’t want to say more. Her pr**nancy wasn’t something she wanted to share–not before the divorce was finalized, not with all eyes on her.

Her reply to his question earlier was simple.

Having answered Julian, Elara turned to leave.

But the reporters didn’t back off. They crowded in around her.

“Mrs. Croft, people online are asking you to step aside and let Mr. Croft be with Seraphina. What do you say to that?”

“Seraphina doesn’t have long. Are you still going to fight her?”

“Mrs. Croft–“

Elara didn’t bother responding; she just wanted to get away.

The crowd, thrilled to see the three of them in the same place at last, had no intention of letting it end.

Julian stood still, saying nothing, and that silence gave someone the boldness to shove Elara with force.

She staggered, her arms moving at once to shield her stomach.

Chapter 5 To Let Go Of The Past

Elara landed hard, her back hitting the ground first.

Cameras flashed wildly, capturing the fall from every angle.

She looked toward Julian by instinct. But his face gave nothing–just a cold, still stare.

And in that moment, she understood what he wanted her to do, and it stung her heart.

He wanted her to speak for him. To tell the press it was all a misunderstanding. That Seraphina was ill, and he had only come out of concern. That it was kindness, not betrayal.

Clutching her belly, Elara lowered her head and let a faint smile slip across her face.

The sky above was clear, and sunlight streamed through gaps in the crowd. But none of it touched her.

She steadied herself and rose slowly.

Then, without looking back, she said calmly, “I feel sorry for Miss Rivers. But that’s all.”

Someone nearby, unaware, asked, “So, are you friends with her?”

Elara gave a short laugh. “Friends? No. I wouldn’t call someone clinging to my husband a friend.”

She turned and waved to Maya, who had just pulled up.

“Elara!” Julian called after her, his face red with rage.

But she didn’t turn around. She stood tall and kept walking.

Maya got out and moved quickly toward her friend, scoffing as they left, “You’d think they were the married couple confronting the home-wrecker. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Seraphina’s lips parted to respond. “You…”

But Maya cut in before she could say a word. “What? Tell me I’m wrong. If you’re planning to use the press to scare me, go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Seraphina’s face turned even paler, looking as if she might faint.

Reporters scrambled, voices rising all at once.

Maya ushered Elara into the car, not sparing another glance behind them.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “She’s definitely faking it. I’ve seen enough of these cases to tell in a second.”

Elara gave her a small smile. “I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you. What if this mess affects your job?”

At a red light, Maya grinned and nudged her. “Don’t forget my dad’s the hospital director.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “The same dad you swore you’d never speak to again?”

Maya shrugged. “You never know when a connection comes in handy. Honestly, sometimes I wish all the powerful people out there were my dads.”

They both laughed, the tension slowly easing from Elara’s face. As the light turned green, the car moved forward again.

“I’ve got the afternoon free,” Maya said, stretching. “Whatever you need, I’m ready.”

Playing along, Elara turned to her with a sly grin. “Great. I need help with something.”

“What is it?” Maya asked curiously.

“Help me move.” She grabbed Maya’s wrist. “You can’t back out now.”

Maya gr**ned but gave in.

Before long, the two of them arrived at the house Elara had shared with Julian, along with a team of movers and organizers.

The house had come together quickly after their rushed wedding.

Everything–furniture and layout–had felt temporary at first. But over the year, Elara had made a home out of it, filling it with warmth.

At least, she tried.

Maya directed the workers while Elara moved quietly around the room, her hands light on every object. On a shelf, she spotted a bottle of Chanel No. 5.

The first gift Julian ever gave her. He’d brought it back from a business trip.

He came straight to her from the airport.

He had pulled her into his arms. His ki**es were quick, urgent. They had been just like any young couple in love back then.

She opened the bottle and sprayed it once. The scent filled the room.

She remembered how he had ki**ed her lightly after spraying it on her skin.

“Should I pack this too?” Maya asked, seeing the perfume.

Elara glanced over and shook her head. “Leave it.”

She slipped off the wedding ring Julian had picked without thought, placing it gently on the table.

But as the movers shuffled back and forth through the space, she paused. Then, quietly, she opened a drawer and put both the perfume and the ring inside.

Soon, the house had been cleared of every trace of her. Only that bottle and that ring remained.

Packing up had been tiring, but once the decision was made, it moved quickly.

It was the same with her feelings.

The wind moved softly through her hair as the car headed toward her new place. Behind her, the mansion faded in the rearview mirror.

Sometimes, to move forward, one had to leave parts of oneself behind.

Elara had things to do.

The fall of the Vance family, the unanswered questions around her father’s sudden death–she was going to find the truth.

Her life had always been shaped by what others needed.

Now it was time to live for herself.

She decided to begin with the music show. It would bring in money, and more importantly, might reconnect her with people linked to her father’s past.

She pulled out her phone, found the right contact, and typed her message. “I’m joining the music program.”

…

Seraphina was still crying.

Julian sat beside her, muttering words of comfort. But his thoughts were filled with the image of Elara standing with her back to him, saying those words.

She had known exactly what he wanted her to say. And she had chosen not to.

He had sent her message after message. She hadn’t replied any of them.

She had been acting strangely lately.

The change in her was too sharp, too sudden. She was provoking him on purpose.

She had done it when they filed for divorce. And again at the hospital.

Julian remembered the look in her eyes the night before, when she asked if he truly made up his mind about the divorce.

She had been sad but also calm.

An unexpected fear filled his heart.

“Julian, don’t be angry at Elara,” Seraphina said through tears. “I know she’s upset. After seeing the videos online, she must’ve come to confront us. And I understand.”

She burst into tears. “After all… I’m the one who took something from her. I’m taking six months from your marriage–what’s left of it. If she lashes out at me, I deserve it…”

As she spoke, she started coughing–hard.

A second later, she spat bl**d into her hand.

“Seraphina!” Julian jumped up, reaching for his phone to call for an ambulance.

As for Elara’s sudden change, he brushed it off as moodiness. In his mind, she wouldn’t dare walk away.

Seraphina reached out and stopped him, still smiling faintly. “It’s the cancer. It’s late-stage. This happens. Don’t worry.”

Her caregiver helped her lie back down.

Julian turned away, already thinking of confronting Elara. As soon as he left the room, Seraphina calmly wiped her mouth and pulled out a small bl**d bag hidden in her cheek.

She laughed. “What do you think he’ll say to Elara now?” she asked the caregiver. “I’m honestly looking forward to it.”

Then she began to go through the news reports excitedly.

The entire online community seemed against Elara.

“Seraphina didn’t even go for life-saving treatment–she just wanted pain meds. Elara really made a scene for no reason.”

“Seraphina’s dying, and Elara still wants to pick fights?”

“Mr. Croft and Seraphina look perfect together. Like a real power couple.”

“Elara’s fall was so embarrassing. I cringed.”

“Elara, just step aside already!”

“Elara, divorce Julian!”

“Yeah, divorce Julian!”

“Divorce!”

Seraphina chuckled as she read the comments. Then she sent a message to a contact and gave a few instructions.

“Today’s move was perfect. Keep the pressure up. Make sure Elara stays where she is–down. Oh, and find out why she went to the hospital today.”

The silence was the first thing Julian noticed. It wasn’t the peaceful quiet of a sleeping house; it was a deep, hollow void that seemed to swallow sound.

He returned to the mansion well past midnight, the acrid taste of cheap champagne from a pointless networking event still on his tongue.

He’d expected the familiar, soft glow of the living room lamp, a beacon Elara always left burning for him, a silent testament to her waiting. Tonight, the house was a tomb of darkness.

He flipped a switch, and the sudden, sterile glare of the grand chandelier was almost painful. It illuminated a space that was both his and not his.

The custom Italian sofa was in its place, the Persian rug centered perfectly, but the soul of the room was gone.

The cashmere throw she always draped over the arm of the sofa, the one he’d pretend to be annoyed by but secretly found comfort in, was missing. The small stack of classic novels on the mahogany side table, their pages dog-eared, had vanished.

He took a breath, expecting the faint, signature scent of her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something floral he could never name—but the air was stale, lifeless, smelling only of polish and emptiness.

A prickle of irritation, sharp and unwelcome, ran down his spine. This was childish. She was taking this act too far.

He strode through the echoing hall and up the sweeping staircase, his footsteps unnervingly loud in the quiet. He pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

The king-sized bed was impeccably made, a sterile display from a furniture catalog. Her side of the massive walk-in closet was a ghostly expanse of empty hangers and vacant shelves.

He ran a hand over the smooth wood where her sweaters used to be folded in neat, colorful stacks. Nothing.

He opened the top drawer of her vanity out of habit, the place she kept her jewelry. It was empty, save for two items placed deliberately in the center of the velvet lining.

A single, almost-full bottle of Chanel No. 5—the first gift he’d ever given her. And beside it, the simple platinum wedding band he’d slid onto her finger a year ago.

He picked up the ring. It was cold, a dead weight in his palm. It felt insignificant, a prop from a play that had ended its run.

The irritation morphed into a surge of anger. He wasn’t sad; he was insulted.

Did she truly think she could provoke him like this? He was Julian Croft. She was his wife.

This was a temporary, six-month arrangement for Seraphina’s sake, and Elara was turning it into a melodrama.

He tossed the ring back into the drawer, the clatter sharp and final in the silent room. She would come back. She always did.

Across the sprawling, indifferent city, Elara was unpacking the last of her cardboard boxes.

The apartment she had rented under her mother’s maiden name was modest, a world away from the Croft mansion. It had a small galley kitchen, a single bedroom, and a living area with a large, beautiful window that overlooked a street lined with old maple trees.