Chapter 2

Eliana Carter POV

The Little estate loomed over the neighborhood like a feudal fortress. It was a compound of iron gates, armed guards, and manicured lawns that smelled of old money and fresh blood.

I drove my car right up to the front entrance. The guards waved me through, their expressions deferential. They still thought I was the future lady of the house.

I snatched the box from the passenger seat, my grip tightening until the cardboard buckled.

Karen, Jax's mother, met me in the foyer. She was the quintessential Mafia wife-blind to the sins, focused entirely on the appearances.

"Eliana, darling," she said, reaching for my cheek with a perfectly manicured hand. "I heard there was a little accident at the gala. Are you alright?"

"Is he upstairs?" I asked, ignoring her touch.

Karen blinked, sensing the radiating tension. "Yes, but-"

I walked past her. I climbed the grand staircase, my footsteps heavy and deliberate on the marble.

I didn't bother to knock on the door to his suite. I shoved it open.

Jax was lounging on his leather sofa, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

But he wasn't alone.

Catalina was there. She was sitting on the edge of his desk, swinging her legs playfully.

She was wearing his football jersey. The one with 'LITTLE' emblazoned on the back.

In our world, wearing a man's jersey wasn't just a fashion choice; it was a claim. It was a territory marker.

She saw me and smirked, taking a slow sip from her own glass.

Jax looked up. He didn't look guilty. He looked bored.

"I told you to go home," he said, his voice flat.

I walked to the center of the room. I didn't look at Catalina. I refused to give her the satisfaction of an audience.

"I brought you something," I said.

I dumped the box onto the coffee table. The lid popped open. The photos spilled out like dirty secrets. The locket slid across the wood. The diamond engagement ring, a promise made by our fathers before we could speak, clattered loudly against the glass.

Jax stared at the ring. His jaw tightened.

"What is this drama, Eliana?"

"It's a return policy," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I'm returning the goods. They're defective."

Catalina laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "God, you're pathetic. Do you think he cares about your little scrapbook?"

"Shut up," I said calmly.

Jax stood up. He towered over me. He used his size to intimidate, a tactic that used to work when I still had a heart to break.

"Pick it up," he commanded.

"No."

"I said, pick it up."

"Trash it," I said. "Burn it. I don't care. It means nothing to me."

I turned to leave.

"You don't walk away from me!" Jax roared. He grabbed the box and hurled it toward the mezzanine railing.

It smashed against the banister, raining memories down into the foyer below in a shower of paper and metal.

"You are mine, Eliana! You don't get to decide when this is over!"

"It was over the moment you left me in that water," I said.

I walked out onto the landing.

Catalina followed me, her heels clicking aggressively on the floor. "You just don't get it, do you? He wants a woman, not a doll."

She stepped in front of me at the top of the stairs, blocking my path.

"Move," I said.

"Make me."

I tried to step around her. Catalina grabbed my arm. She yanked, trying to haul me back to face her.

But she underestimated her own balance in those stilettos.

She stumbled. Her grip on my arm tightened, dragging me down with her.

We fell.

The world spun into a blur of motion. My shoulder slammed into the railing. My knee hit the marble step with a sickening crack.

I tumbled down four steps before catching myself on the banister. Pain exploded up my leg, white-hot and blinding.

Catalina had landed on the landing, barely bruised. She immediately started screaming.

"She pushed me! Jax! She pushed me!"

Jax came running out of the suite.

I was clutching my knee, gasping for air, tears springing to my eyes from the sheer physical agony.

Jax didn't even look at me.

He rushed to Catalina, checking her for invisible scratches.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice frantic.

"She's crazy!" Catalina sobbed, pointing a manicured finger at me. "She tried to kill me!"

Jax turned to me. His face was twisted in a rage I had never seen directed at me before.

"Get out!" he screamed. "Get out of my house before I forget who your father is!"

I pulled myself up using the railing, grit and adrenaline the only things keeping me upright. I couldn't put weight on my left leg.

"Jax," I gasped. "My knee..."

"I don't care!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "You're lucky I don't throw you down the rest of them. Get out!"

He turned his back on me. He helped Catalina up and walked her back into his room, slamming the door shut.

I stood there, balancing on one leg, the silence of the house ringing in my ears.

Karen was at the bottom of the stairs, hand over her mouth. She didn't move to help me. She knew better than to cross her son.

I limped down the rest of the stairs, each step a fresh torture. I walked out the front door.

I drove myself to the ER.

While I sat in the waiting room, icing my swollen knee, my phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Instagram.

Catalina had posted a photo. It was Jax, holding her on the sofa, kissing her temple.

Caption: My protector.

I looked at the screen.

The pain in my knee was sharp and real. But the pain in my chest was gone.

There was nothing left there to hurt.