Chapter 15
He staggered back from the door, each syllable echoing like a gunshot. His throat dried. His vision narrowed. A roaring sound filled his ears.
She was sleeping with Roger. Still,
The child he was preparing to claim–the one he had told himself to love–wasn’t even his.
He had destroyed Hayley’s life for this woman.
He had nearly killed someone who loved him–truly–for a liar. A parasite.
And Hayley?
She had never cheated. She had never fought back. She had taken every bruise, every betrayal with silence… and dignity.
She hadn’t disappeared.
She had escaped.
His hands trembled as he pulled his coat tighter and stormed out of the hotel, heart thundering. Every lie, every manipulation, every dollar he’d poured into Elisa–it was all a game.
Back home, he found her humming in the tub, surrounded by rose petals and wine. The same lips that once whispered her love to Roger now curled in satisfaction as she soaked in stolen luxury.
He didn’t say a word. He walked past her like a ghost, into his office, and shut the door behind him.
And in that silence, Jarren made his decision. He wouldn’t confront her.
Not yet. He would destroy her. And Roger.
He would take everything they cared about, everything they clung to, and break it down–slowly, mercilessly.
Piece by piece. Just like they did to Hayley.
Elisa noticed the change the next day.
Jarren didn’t greet her. He didn’t argue. He didn’t touch her. He.didn’t even see her.
His face–once charming, once soft even in anger–was now stone. Blank. Cold. Unreadable. A
wall she couldn’t climb.
She thought he was just moody. That he was adjusting to grief. That his anger over Hayley’s death would eventually fade.
It didn’t. It calcified.
It started subtly–small things that might have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been paying attention. But Elisa paid attention to power. She recognized when it began to slip through her fingers.
Her credit cards stopped working. First one, then all. She called the bank, furious–only to be told that access was revoked by the primary account holder.
The driver didn’t show up the next morning. When she called, the line rang to voicemail. The staff -the once–obedient, fearful maids who used to scramble at the sound of her voice–began
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exchanging glances. One even rolled her eyes as Elisa barked for water.
That night, when she confronted him, her face twisted with entitlement and frustration, she shouted, “What the hell is going on, Jarren?!”
He looked up from his glass of scotch and stared at her without emotion.
“Figure it out,” he said quietly.
Then he turned his back to her and walked out.
By the third day, he’d moved her to the guest room.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t explain.
He just summoned a butler and said, “Remove her things.”
Elisa screamed. Cried. She threw a vase that shattered against the marble.
“You bastard!” she wailed. “I’m carrying your child! You can’t do this!”
Jarren took a long sip of wine, then placed the glass down with precision.
“Are you done?*
She stood there, frozen in shock. And when she wasn’t–when she lunged for him, slapped his chest with the side of her fists, hysterical and gasping–he stood. Slowly. Deliberately.
He grabbed her wrist with enough pressure to bruise. Then, without a word, he pushed her backward until her spine hit the wall.
His hand pressed flat against the wall beside her head–not touching her, but close enough that
the air between them trembled.
“You want to know what’s happening?” he whispered.
“Y–yes, she stammered.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. “This is what it looks like… when the mask comes
off.*
The next day, she woke up to find her jewelry gone. Her designer clothes boxed. Her imported skincare replaced with drugstore brands. Her meals turned cold, tasteless.
The thermostat was locked low. She shivered at night beneath thin sheets. Every knock at the
door made her flinch.
She tried again. Soft words. Apologies. Even seduction. But Jarren never touched her again.
Until the night he did. She’d come downstairs barefoot, clutching her belly, asking him for something warm to eat.
He ignored her.
She pressed further, voice rising, desperate and hormonal and afraid. “I said I’m cold. I need—”
And then the soup bowl he’d been holding flew across the room and shattered at her feet, splattering broth across her nightgown.
She shrieked and stumbled back, pressing against the counter.
Jarren crossed the room in two strides and slammed his palm beside her head again, not touching her, but making her shrink.
“Remember when Hayley begged you not to hurt her?” he said, voice eerily calm. “When she
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cried in front of you?”
Elisa’s lip quivered. “W–what are you talking about-”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Her heart raced.
“I never-”
“You framed her,” he growled. “You poisoned her life. You lied. You killed her without lifting a single weapon. And now you’re scared? Now you want kindness?”
Elisa froze.
“Well, you should’ve learned from her silence. Because I won’t be kind.”
She tried to leave, but he locked the doors. By the end of the week, the estate felt like a prison.
He had made her queen. Now, he was making her beggar.
The fear began to build. This wasn’t love anymore–if it ever had been. This was punishment.
“This isn’t you,” she cried one night, crawling across the bed to him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting me? Just because of her? So, what?”
He turned to her slowly, calmly.
The lamp cast half his face in shadow. His jaw was tight, his voice low.
“Because this is what you did to her.”
She shook her head, tears rushing down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to–please, I just wanted you
“And now you have me,” he said with a cruel smile. “This is the version you earned.”
Her legs gave out beneath her. He stood over her, not touching, not comforting.
Just watching.
“You can cry,” he said softly. “You can scream. But I won’t be the fool again.”
“Jarren,” she sobbed. “Please… we’re having a baby.”
“That child is not mine.” He took a step closer. “But if you want to keep lying, go ahead. I’ll make sure your world falls apart anyway.”
“I’ll leave,” she whispered. “I’ll go.”
“No,” he said, kneeling to her level. “You’ll stay. And you’ll suffer. Slowly. Exactly the way she did.”
She slapped him in desperation. He didn’t react.
“You loved me once.”
He didn’t blink, “I loved a lie.”
And then, the final words came like a bullet to the chest.
“You can’t fool me now, Elisa. I know the truth. And if you died tomorrow–no one would save you. Not even me.”
He turned and walked away. She fell to the floor, trembling.
Chapter 15
