He finally spotted me at the gate.
"Ella!!" he called out, but his ex-wife quickly turned back.
"Mh! Est-elle encore là?" she muttered. (Translation: "Is she still around?")
Taken aback, I turned quickly and began to walk away.
"Ella!!" he shouted, starting to run towards me.
"Ou allez-vous?" his ex-wife yelled after me. (Translation: "Where are you going?")
Tears streamed down my face.
I didn't want to hear what he had to say, so I kept walking.
Click!
Clack!
"Ella, please wait!" he called out, now just behind me.
I refused to let him get close.
In a moment of desperation, I decided to cross the road without checking for oncoming traffic.
Suddenly, a truck sped towards me.
"Ella, look out!" he screamed, rushing forward to push me out of harm's way.
We both fell down.
He rescued me.
I owe him a debt!
"Ella, are you hurt?" he asked me, his voice laced with concern.
I didn't respond.
He stood up first and extended his hand.
"Come, I'll help you up," he said gently.
This time, I nodded and slowly accepted his assistance.
I managed to stand, appreciating his gentleness.
"Are you okay?" he inquired, but I kept my gaze lowered, reluctant to meet his eyes.
"Please say something," he urged, his worry evident.
Reluctantly, I lifted my head and replied, "Yes, don't worry."
His eyes caught sight of my bruises, and his expression shifted to one of fury.
What!
"Who did this to you?" he demanded, anger radiating from him.
I remained silent.
"It was that guy, wasn't it? Tell me!" he pressed, his voice tinged with frustration.
"No," I managed to reply, tears beginning to fall.
"I swear, I will kill him," he vowed, his fist clenched in anger.
His determination was palpable as he began to pace, his face set with a fierce resolve.
I reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Bon, please don't do this," I pleaded, desperate to stop him.
"Why not?" he shouted, his voice rising. "He did something terrible—he hurt you!"
I lowered my head again, feeling helpless as tears continued to fall.
He held me close, his grip firm yet gentle.
After a few moments, he tapped softly on my shoulder, grounding us both.
"I have an idea, I'm going to report this man to the police," he said calmly.
At the mention of the police.
I felt a wave of anxiety surge through me, almost making me jump.
"No, please, I don't want any trouble with him," I pleaded, my voice trembling.
"Don't worry," he reassured me, giving my shoulder a comforting pat.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
"Hello," a deep voice answered the call.
"Oh my God!" i said slowly.
"I would like to make an anonymous report of domestic violence at billionaire Negris' mansion," he explained clearly.
"We are coming," the voice responded.
Turning to me, he said, "I won't leave you alone."
In that moment, his presence assured me that I wasn't facing this situation by myself.
A few minutes went by, and the sound of a police siren became increasingly clear in the distance.
My anxiety grew with each note, and soon enough, I began to tremble.
Bon was always there to comfort me, reminding me, "Don't worry; I'll be with you."
As I glanced around, I noticed our neighbors peering out from behind their curtains and doorsteps, all eyes on the unfolding scene.
The police car came to a halt in front of the mansion, and I observed the gateman quaking in fear.
"I swear I'm innocent; I didn't do anything!" he pleaded, clearly overwhelmed.
In a moment of sheer panic, he even wet himself.
"Go and call your boss," echoed a soft, clear voice from one of the officers, signaling that things were about to get serious.