LOGINElena's Point Of View
The walls of the guest room seemed to close in on me, suffocating and cold. The once elegant cream-painted room was now a graveyard of my belongings. Clothes flung carelessly across the floor, my jewelry scattered like worthless trinkets, boxes turned over and emptied, heels broken.
My handbags… designer, vintage, gifts from Graham himself, dumped like trash. The staff had done their job well. They hadn’t just moved me out, they’d desecrated everything that made me feel like I mattered in this home.
I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching my knees to my chest, sobbing into them. My eyes were swollen, my voice hoarse from hours of crying. How did it come to this?
How did the woman Graham used to call his “forever” become the stranger crying in a guest room, hiding from the laughter downstairs?
Everywhere I looked was a reminder of my downfall. The shattered picture frame of our wedding day… the very frame I’d kept by my bedside for years. I picked it up slowly, tracing the cracks across our smiling faces.
A memory came to mind the one that had haunted me since yesterday. The warmth of his hand in mine. The way he looked at me as if the stars had nothing on me. “I’ll give you the world, Elena,” he had whispered during our first dance, “Just stay mine.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks again. What changed? What happened to the man I married? I wiped my face roughly. “Enough,” I whispered aloud. My reflection on the vanity across the room was pitiful. Broken. Defeated.
But not for long.
With a sudden surge of resolve, I stood up. My legs were shaky, but my spine straightened with every breath I took.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror propped against the wardrobe. My eyes were puffy, lips cracked, hair sticking in every direction. Was this who I’d become? A shadow of myself, all in the name of love?
I walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water over my face. Then I pulled out my makeup kit. Layer by layer, I rebuilt myself.
Foundation to hide the sorrow. Blush to bring back the fire. Red lipstick, the same shade I wore on our first date. Black eyeliner, sharp enough to kill.
I curled my hair, letting the voluminous waves fall around my shoulders like a lioness preparing for war. Then I slipped into a crimson body-hugging dress that clung to my curves like sin. One Graham hated. “Too revealing,” he used to say.
Tonight, I wanted it to be.
I sprayed my signature perfume, five times, no less. Let the scent linger.
I grabbed my black stilettos, my clutch, and my car keys. Before stepping out, I took a long look around the guest room and muttered, “You may have thrown me here, but you’ll regret ever trying.”
I locked the door behind me. My things weren’t safe… neither was my dignity, but for now, it was enough.
From the top of the stairs, I could see them all, laughing. Lillian was curled up next to Graham, her bump on full display like a badge of victory. His mother sat across from them, holding a glass of wine, her face bright and joyful.
A family portrait. Without me. They hadn’t noticed me yet.
I straightened my posture, placed one hand on the railing, and descended the stairs like a queen reclaiming her throne. Every step echoed in the living room, and one by one, heads turned.
Conversations stopped. Laughter died. Graham was the first to speak.
His eyes scanned me, wide and speechless, before narrowing in suspicion. “Where are you going dressed like that?”
I reached the last step, looked him dead in the eyes, and replied coolly, “That’s none of your business.”
His mother’s wine glass paused mid-air. “Excuse me? You’re in my son’s house.” I slowly turned to her and gave her a smile colder than ice.
“And so? He’s gotten the child he’s always wanted, right?” I gestured lazily to Lillian. “So now, I’m going to get the fun I want.”
Graham stood up sharply. “What the hell does that mean?” I tilted my head, lips curling. “It means I’m going to get myself a boyfriend.”
The room fell into stunned silence. “You what?” he barked. Lillian scoffed. “Well, that didn’t take long.”
His mother’s face turned red with rage. “You ungrateful little…”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I snapped, my voice so sharp it cut through the air like a blade. Graham’s brows furrowed, jaw clenched. “You’re my wife, Elena.”
“And you’re the man who invited your pregnant mistress into our home, into our bed,” I hissed. “Wife or not, I’m done playing the fool.”
“You think dressing like that and going out will change anything?”
“No. But it’ll remind you of who I was before I became the woman you tried to break.” Lillian laughed mockingly. “God, the drama. Just leave already.”
I took two steps toward her. “Don’t push me, Lillian.”
“Oh please. You think you scare me?”
“No, but I’d love to watch you scream.”
“Elena!” Graham barked, stepping between us. His mother stood up. “Don’t you dare disgrace this family!”
I let out a laugh… sharp and amused. “Oh, the family that brought in the side piece while I still wear the wedding ring? That family?”
Lillian leaned into Graham’s ear. “Let her go, baby. She’s just bitter.”
His mother crossed her arms. “Go ahead, Elena. Walk out that door. But you’ll come back and realize you’re nothing without my son.”
That one stung. It always did. Because part of me used to believe it.
But I tilted my chin and forced a smile. “I’ll come back when I’m done enjoying myself. You know, since it’s open marriage now.”
Graham moved fast, stepping in front of me. “You can’t leave dressed like this. You’re still my wife.”
I raised a brow. “Oh, now the husband card comes out?” I pushed past him slightly, but he grabbed my wrist. “Elena,” he said, his voice deeper now. “Don’t test me.”
I pulled my wrist free and stepped back. “You wanted an open marriage?” I said sweetly. “You’ve got one. But don’t forget… I can open doors too.”
He blinked.
Looked at me. Really looked. And for the first time since this nightmare began… something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Panic? Possessiveness?
I didn’t care.
I dragged my eyes down his frame, back up to his face, and let my voice drop, seductive and venomous. “Don’t worry. I’ll have fun.”
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Oh no,” I said, flashing a dazzling smile. “I’m just getting started.”
Then I turned on my heels and walked out of that house like I wasn’t burning inside.
Elena's Point Of View"Fine," he muttered, adjusting his stance with a lazy, satisfied smirk that made my stomach flip and heat pool between my thighs. "But you are not going there alone. And if she's actually dead, you let me know immediately and I will personally send the cheapest, heaviest pine casket Dallas has to offer." The dark humor was so perfectly Jaxx that I couldn't help but laugh. I burst out laughing, the sound bright against the lingering tension in the room. The absurdity of his grim humor never failed to catch me off guard, to remind me that beneath the violence and the control, there was a man who made me laugh in the darkest moments. Jaxx just shrugged, completely unbothered by his own dark wit, though a small smile played at his lips, softening the hard lines of his face. "But must you even be there personally?" he grumbled, his eyebrows pulling together again as his hand trailed slowly up the spine of my shirt, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Each touch was deli
Elena's Point Of View"I will," I said, my thumb smoothing over the glass screen one last time before dropping the phone onto the desk. The device landed with a hollow thud that seemed to echo in the quiet office, a sound that felt far too final. "I will talk to him, Heather. I promise." "Good," she groaned, her voice still vibrating with that protective, younger-sister fire that had grown sharper since our childhood struggles. The edge in her tone reminded me of the girl who'd once stood between me and our mother's boyfriend with nothing but a kitchen knife and sheer determination. "Because if I find out you snuck down to some sketchy county hospital by yourself, I will personally dig that granite grave for you too. Love you, bye." The line went dead, leaving me in the quiet expanse of my office. I sat there for a moment, staring at the dark screen, wondering how my little sister had become the voice of reason in my life. When had the roles reversed so completely? The following da
Elena's Point Of ViewThe second the words left Heather's mouth, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped directly over my head. My skin went entirely numb, and the small, lingering trace of conflict inside me froze instantly into solid glass. The familiar protective instinct I'd built over years of distance from our mother shattered, replaced by cold clarity. I cursed under my breath, my voice low and raw. "You're right, Heather," I said, closing my eyes against the wave of self-recrimination. "Damn it, you're completely right. I don't know why I didn't think of that immediately." I pressed my palm against my forehead, feeling the heat of shame creeping up my neck. The weight of my own naivety pressed down on me like a physical thing. "For a split second, I actually forgot who our mother is. I stupidly thought she might have changed because she's staring down the barrel of a casket. As if proximity to death could transform a person who'd spent decades perfecting her cruel
Elena's Point Of View"Sorry, but I'm not coming," I said, my voice cutting through her desperate wheezing like a blade through silk. I shifted my weight, leaning my hip against the edge of the mahogany desk. My fingers found my pen, twisting the cap off and on in a restless rhythm. Click. Click.The small sound anchored me, kept me from drowning in emotions I refused to acknowledge. "You weren't there for us when we actually needed a mother," I continued, each word measured and deliberate. "So why on earth should I come now just because it's convenient for your conscience?" A violent, wet cough rattled through the speaker, followed by the agonizingly slow sound of her trying to draw air back into her failing lungs. Each ragged breath felt like an accusation, a reminder of all the times I'd waited for her to come home, listening for footsteps that never came. I could picture her in that sterile hospital room, tubes snaking from her arms, machines beeping their mechanical sympathy.
Elena's Point Of ViewThe temperature in the room plummeted twenty degrees in a single, freezing second. My fingers tightened around the phone until the cheap plastic casing let out a small, desperate creak. Blood rushed past my ears in a loud, rhythmic thudding that drowned out the low hum of the office air conditioner. "What?" The word came out flat and dangerous as my voice dropped into a register I reserved for courtrooms and confrontations. My eyebrows pulled together, forming a deep frown as I leaned one hand heavily against the edge of my desk. The polished wood felt cool beneath my palm, grounding me in the present moment even as my past threatened to drag me under. A frantic, shaky breath came from the other end, but it wasn't her voice. Instead, I heard an older woman, completely out of breath and thoroughly panicked. "Elena? Oh thank god, you actually answered," the woman stammered. The chaotic sound of rolling hospital gurneys and beeping monitors blared through the ear
Elena's Point Of ViewWeeks had passed since the world watched Sinclair Global's pristine, multi-billion-dollar empire crack down the middle and begin sinking into the Texas dirt. Weeks since frantic news anchors, flashing red banners, and black government SUVs swarming their corporate headquarters dominated every conversation. And honestly? Everything had been so incredibly quiet and peaceful since then. I couldn't begin to describe how grateful I was for that stillness. It felt like emerging from a storm into unexpected sunshine. My days had taken on a rhythm that wasn't complicated, but it was exactly what I needed. Go to work, handle my business, come home, train with Jaxx until my lungs burned and my muscles ached, eat whatever ridiculous feast he'd either ordered or cooked, then sleep without looking over my shoulder. No paranoia. No fear. Just rest. Jaxx had even stubbornly insisted that the two of us do something completely fun every single day… whether it was a midnight dr
Elena’s Point Of ViewThe tears came without warning.One second, I was talking… voice steady, hands clenched in my lap, and the next, my chest was heaving, my vision blurring, my entire body shaking with sobs I couldn’t stop. It was like something inside me snapped, like the last thread holding me
Elena’s Point Of ViewThe apartment was too quiet.The kind of quiet that pressed against my skin, that hummed in my ears like a living thing. I stood in the middle of the living room, my suitcases still unopened by the door, my purse slung over my shoulder like an anchor. The walls were a pristine
Elena’s Point Of ViewThe silence in the room was deafening, heavy, suffocating… like the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to break. My back was pressed against the door, my knuckles raw and bleeding, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The tears had dried on m
Graham’s Point Of ViewThe thud of Elena’s heels against the marble stairs echoed through the house like a death knell, each step a hammer against my chest, each sound twisting the knife deeper. My fingers clenched around the glass of whiskey, the crystal biting into my palm, the amber liquid slos







