Chapter 4

Elowen's POV

The door pulled shut, obscuring the painful vision.

Jasper stepped forward and pressed my passport into my hand.

Catching the lingering devastation in my eyes, he cleared his throat, attempting a casual justification.

"It's just an AI-generated mock-up," he dismissed.

"Lenora was just playing around with some tech tools, don't be so petty about it. Once my lawyers draft our official civil union paperwork, we can take real photos."

He paused, his tone hardening. "Assuming you can conduct yourself reasonably."

I took the passport. I didn't say a single word.

A massive coastal hurricane delayed my departure, forcing me to push my flight back by a few days.

During that time, Jasper had the estate manager monitor my every move.

When he was informed that I was doing absolutely nothing—no screaming matches, no shattered porcelain, no plotting—he was noticeably unnerved.

Yet, his ego prevailed.

"Keep tracking her," I overheard him order his head of private security.

"Don't let her anywhere near Lenora."

On the day I left, the sky was a bruised, heavy shade of gray.

Sitting in the back of my Uber on the way to the airport, I mindlessly scrolled through Instagram.

A mutual friend from Jasper's inner circle—a tech executive named Carter—had just posted a private story about packing for a destination wedding.

[Whose wedding?] I casually replied.

The story was instantly deleted. A second later, Carter's frantic direct messages flooded my screen.

[Elowen, please, don't tell Jasper I leaked this, and for the love of God, do not cause a scene. Jasper and Lenora are hosting a tropical destination wedding at a Hawaiian coastal resort. It's just an unofficial ceremony to appease her. It doesn't mean anything.]

I stared at the screenshots I had captured before he deleted the post.

The invitations were letterpressed with expensive gold foil. North Voss Enterprises executives were on the guest list. A beachfront venue that required at least a year's advance booking.

A designer wedding gown... the one I had spent years dreaming of wearing.

My fingertip hovered over the screen.

Looking out the window as the city skyline blurred past, the agonizing pain in my chest finally cooled into a terrifying, hollow numbness.

After checking my luggage, I headed toward the first-class VIP lounge.

Pushing open the door of the restroom, I blindly collided with someone walking out. Before I could even murmur an apology, the woman threw herself backward, slamming her spine against the wall.

"Jasper! Help!" Lenora shrieked, her voice echoing through the opulent terminal.

"Help! She's trying to kill me!"

Before I could take a step back, Jasper's private security detail, operating on high alert, swarmed the corridor. Two massive, thick-necked men tackled me to the ground.

As I hit the floor, my bare hand slammed into the sharp, metallic logo of Lenora's dropped designer bag. The hardware dug deep into my palm, instantly drawing a stream of dark crimson blood.

A pair of bespoke Italian leather shoes entered my line of sight. I looked up into Jasper's furious, storm-cloud eyes.

"Carter warned me you might try to crash this," Jasper snarled.

"I actually started to believe you had learned your lesson, but you're just as viciously unhinged as ever."

"I... I'm not here for you. I'm just..."

Desperate to prove my innocence, I shifted my weight, reaching toward my coat pocket to pull out my boarding pass.

But Lenora suddenly wailed. Clutching her stomach, she raised her hand, showing off the smear of my blood she had secretly wiped from her bag.

Jasper's face drained of color. Pure panic ignited in his eyes.

"She has another box cutter!" he roared, pointing at my moving hand.

"Disarm her!"

The guard kneeling on my back didn't hesitate. He grabbed my wrist, twisting my arm up behind my back.

Blinding, white-hot agony exploded up my arm. My fractured wrist dangled uselessly. The blood drained from my face, and my vocal cords paralyzed from the searing pain. My lips moved, but only broken, breathless gasps spilled out.

Jasper hesitated. A flicker of genuine horror crossed his features as he saw my eyes roll backward. He actually bent his knees, leaning down to hear what I was trying to whisper.

But Lenora immediately yanked on his jacket sleeve.

"Jasper, please! It hurts so much, you have to get me to a doctor..."

The hesitation vanished. The look he shot me was pure, unfiltered disgust.

"Take this lunatic back to the estate and lock her down," Jasper ordered the guards coldly, turning his back on me.

"I'll deal with her when I get back."

As Jasper lifted Lenora into his arms, I saw her look over his shoulder. She made brief eye contact with the guard pinning me down and gave a subtle, practiced nod.

...

The tropical wedding and the subsequent luxury honeymoon lasted six weeks.

It wasn't until Jasper's private charter jet touched down on back on US soil that he swapped his temporary international SIM card back to his primary number.

He had bought the burner to avoid the inevitable avalanche of my hysterical text messages and threats.

But as his main phone booted up, the lock screen remained eerily blank.

I hadn't sent a single text. I hadn't made a single call. The absolute silence was deeply unsettling.

Frowning, Jasper was just about to open the surveillance app connected to the estate's security cameras when his phone erupted with back-to-back incoming calls from Carter.

"Jasper! Something's wrong, you need to check the file I just sent you!"

Jasper's pulse inexplicably skipped a beat. He ended the call and opened his messages.

It was an image attachment.

He clicked on the photo. And as the image loaded, all the air left his lungs, freezing him entirely in place.