Chapter 14
It had been a month since Hayley vanished from Jarren’s life–and somehow, the silence hac grown louder.
At first, he pretended not to notice. Not the empty space on his side of the closet, not the way the sunlight no longer warmed the living room the same way, or how the house, once orderly and warm in her hands, now felt like an abandoned museum of memories.
Her scent had faded from the sheets. Her teacups disappeared from the kitchen. Even her slippers–those pink things he used to kick aside–were gone.
Hayley was gone. And Elisa? She was the only one left–and not in the way he thought he
wanted.
‘Jarren!” Elisa called, flopping onto the leather couch dramatically. “I want mangoes. But not the local kind. The imported ones. And maybe grilled eel. Or tiramisu. No–both. I’m craving.”
‘You’re always craving,” he muttered under his breath.
‘What was that?”
‘Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. Elisa had become nothing but noise–demanding, complaining, and draining his accounts faster than he could blink. Shopping sprees, spa packages, and overpriced mports filled his bills.
Hayley never asked for anything.
She used to bake his favorite pastries just because. Used to leave handwritten notes on his desk wishing him luck before a presentation. Used to quietly fix his ties in the mornings, even after sleepless nights.
Now, he came home to clutter. Noise. The scent of expensive perfume that clung to every room
ike a curse.
Elisa cried when her nail polish chipped. Hayley cried when the rain soaked her clothes because she waited outside to greet him.
Elisa scolded the maids. Hayley helped them finish their chores.
And yet, he’d chosen this.
He pushed the one person who cared away–and for what?
For this woman who didn’t even know how he liked his coffee, let alone how he took his pain.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets still untouched, cold as stone, and whispered to no
one.
‘What the hell have I done?”
Later on, he received a call. He gritted his teeth when his accountant talked about discrepancies in the company’s funds. Some investments had been “reallocated,” a polite way of saying stolen.
Elisa batted her lashes when he confronted her. “You think I’d steal from you? I’m pregnant with your child!”
“You also promised you’d stop shopping,” he snapped. “And I’m missing over 100 million in
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overseas accounts.”
Her face paled, but she quickly recovered. “Then check with your people. Don’t blame me.”
And for the first time since Hayley’s disappearance, he postponed the wedding.
“I need time,” he told Elisa coldly.
“What? You said we’d be married before the baby comes!” she cried, voice shrill.
“Well, the money’s gone,” he growled. “Unless you plan on giving birth in a cardboard box, shu up and wait.”
She stomped away in tears, slamming the door, screaming about being unloved and unsupported.
But Jarren didn’t care. Not now.
The cracks in his life were starting to split wider. Elisa had become more erratic–overspending, snapping at staff, disappearing for hours with vague excuses. She whined about his moods and accused him of neglect, but he barely responded anymore. Something didn’t feel right, and his instincts–ones he’d long ignored–were finally screaming.
One night, as she slept soundly in their bed surrounded by luxury she didn’t earn, Jarren made the call.
“Follow her,” he told his most trusted man. “Track where she goes. Who she sees. I want every detail.”
He needed the truth now–not assumptions or carefully worded lies. If Elisa was hiding something, he would find it. And if what his gut whispered was true, then he’d been more foolish
than he ever realized.
A week later, the butler returned with a flash drive and an envelope.
And everything began to unravel.
“You need to see this, sir.”
Inside were photos–grainy but clear enough. Elisa. Dressed down in sunglasses and a trench coat, entering a small luxury hotel.
With a man.
A man Jarren recognized instantly.
Roger.
The same man he had once seen in those damned photos–the ones Elisa had used to frame Hayley. The same man Hayley was supposedly “cheating” with.
So why was Elisa meeting with him?
His jaw clenched. He drove straight to the hotel, parking without a word and entering through the
back like a shadow.
Up the stairs. Room 512.
He cracked the door just slightly and heard it.
Elisa’s voice.
“That’s all I have for now. Please, just keep quiet.”
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7:18 pm G DDD.
Roger laughed. “I’ve been keeping quiet for five years. You think this ends with some pocket change?”
“Lower your voice!” Elisa hissed. “If Jarren hears anything–he’ll kill me.”
Roger leaned back on the hotel couch, arms crossed, completely unfazed. “Maybe he should,” he said coldly. “You ruined his wife.”
“She deserved it!” Elisa shot back, teeth gritted. “He was supposed to be mine. Hayley stole
him.”
Roger’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “You mean she married him–and you couldn’t stand the fact that someone else had what you threw away.”
‘Shut up!” Elisa snapped. “You don’t understand. I loved Jarren first. He was mine before she ever stepped into the picture. You think I wanted to use you in all of this? You were just a tool!”
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t saying that the night we spent together. You weren’t calling me a tool when you were begging me to stay. When
you said you loved me.”
‘Stop,” she said, her voice shaking.
‘Oh, but I should stop now?” he said, voice rising. “You used me to frame your little rival. Drugged her, dragged me into it, and made it seem like she cheated just to turn Jarren against her. And now, what? You’re carrying my child and passing it off as his?”
Elisa went deathly still.
Jarren’s blood turned to ice.
‘Say it,” Roger growled. “Say the baby is mine.”
There was a long pause. Then Elisa’s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible.
‘It’s yours.”
The words hit Jarren like a bullet to the chest.
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