Chapter 5

JENNA

Jaxon’s mother looks nothing like him.

She’s colder.

Sharper.

Her eyes sliced through me the moment I opened the door to his penthouse, expecting Jaxon… and finding her instead.

“Ms. Hart,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “We need to talk.”

My stomach drops. “Jaxon isn’t here.”

“I know,” she replies, voice clipped. “That’s why I came.”

She walks through the living room like she owns it — because she does. Her heels click against the marble floor, each step a warning.

I close the door slowly. “Is something wrong?”

She turns to me, expression unreadable. “Yes. You.”

My breath catches.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a checkbook.

My heart stops.

“I’ll make this simple,” she says. “Leave my son. Leave this city. Today.”

I stare at her, stunned. “I’m not taking your money.”

She writes anyway, pen gliding across the paper with practiced ease.

“You will,” she says. “Everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone.”

She looks up, eyes narrowing. “You’re a distraction. A liability. A girl he’ll forget in a month.”

Her words hit like a slap.

“I care about him,” I whisper.

She laughs softly. “That’s the problem.”

She tears the check-out and holds it toward me.

Blank.

My hands shake. “I don’t want this.”

“You will be sorry,” she says, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “You have no idea what you’re stepping into.”

She walks past me, perfume lingering like poison.

The door closes behind her.

And I stand there, shaking, the blank check fluttering to the floor.

**

I go to work on Monday morning pretending nothing happened.

Jaxon is leaving for a business trip. He doesn’t take me. He doesn’t even tell me he’s going.

I found out from Marla.

“He’ll be gone until Sunday,” she says. “Meetings in Chicago.”

I nod, trying not to feel the sting.

But Sunday morning, everything changed.

I wake up nauseous. Dizzy. Weak.

At first, I think it’s stress.

Then I realized I was late.

Really late.

My hands tremble as I sit in the clinic, waiting for the doctor to return with the test results.

When she walks in, her expression is soft.

“Congratulations,” she says. “You’re pregnant.”

The world tilts.

Pregnant.

I've been with Jaxon for three months.

He told me once — half‑drunk, half‑asleep — that he couldn’t have a child.

He did not want to use a condom, so I took the pill. But because I was exhausted and overwhelmed in some days, I missed a pill... or two. I was stupid enough to think it wouldn’t matter.

My throat closes.

I press a hand to my stomach, tears burning my eyes.

I can’t tell him over the phone.

It has to be in person.

Even if it destroys us.

**

Monday morning, I get ready for work, nerves twisting in my stomach.

Jaxon will be back today.

I need to tell him.

I need to see his face when I say the words.

But before I can leave, my phone buzzes.

Jaxon:

Don’t come in today. We’ll talk tonight. 8 PM. La Rouge.

My heart sinks.

Talk.

That word never means anything good.

I changed out of my work clothes, ready to stay home like he asked — until I saw the folder on my desk.

The one I worked on all weekend.

The one he needs for his meeting before noon.

He’ll be furious if it’s not there.

So I go.

Just to drop it off and help.

It's the responsible thing to do.

But the moment I step into the office, people stare.

Whisper.

Look away when I meet their eyes.

My stomach knots.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

I walk toward Jaxon’s office, clutching the folder to my chest.

The door is slightly open.

I hear a laugh.

A woman’s laugh.

I freeze.

Then I push the door open.

And my world ends.

Jaxon is sitting in his chair.

A woman is straddling his lap.

Her hands in his hair.

His mouth on hers.

His fingers gripping her waist.

They don’t even notice me at first.

I stand there, holding the folder, my heart shattering silently inside my chest.

Jaxon finally looks up.

His eyes widen.

“Jenna—”

I don’t scream or cry.

I simply step forward and place the folder on his desk.

“You’ll need this for your meeting, Sir,” I say, voice steady.

The woman turns, smirking. “Oh, sweetheart, that won’t be necessary. Right, baby?”

Baby.

My stomach twists.

Jaxon’s face hardens. “Jenna, why are you here?”

“I was dropping off the document,” I say. “I’ll resume work tomorrow.”

The woman laughs. “Oh no, you won’t.”

Jaxon’s jaw tightens.

He looks at me.

And says the words that destroy everything.

“You’re fired.”

The room spins.

But I don’t let him see me fall.

I nod once.

Turn around.

And walk out.

My heart breaks with every step.

**

I don’t remember leaving the building. I don’t remember the elevator ride, or the lobby, or the way people stared at me like they already knew I was disposable. All I remember is the sound of his voice.

That I'm fired.

It echoes in my skull, sharp and cold, slicing through every memory I have of him whispering my name in the dark.

I step out onto the sidewalk, the city spinning around me. My vision blurs. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe.

I need to go and get away before I fall apart in front of strangers.

I lift my hand to hail a taxi—

And walk straight into her. Mrs. Lila Vale.

Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect smile sharpened into a blade.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snaps.

I freeze.

She looks me up and down, recognition dawning in her eyes.

“Oh,” she says, voice dripping with venom. “You’re her.”

My stomach twists. “I don’t want any trouble.”

She laughs. “Sweetheart, trouble is all you’ve been since the moment you opened your legs for my son.”

The words hit like a slap.

I swallow hard. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Oh, but I am,” she says, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What you’ve ruined? Jaxon was finally getting his life back on track, and then you—”

“Me?” I whisper, something inside me snapping. “What about you?”

Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

I take a breath. I don’t feel. “You raised a man who lies. Who cheats. Who uses people and throws them away. A man who can’t commit, can’t communicate, can’t love. A man who destroys everything he touches.”

Her face pales.

I keep going.

“You raised a man who fires someone he supposedly cared about while another woman is sitting on his lap. Congratulations, Lila. You did an amazing job.”

Her expression twists into pure rage.

“How dare you—”

She shoves me.

Hard.

I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the curb. Pain shoots through my abdomen—sharp, sudden, wrong.

I gasp.

Something warm trickles down my leg.

I look down.

Blood. Bright red.

Pooling. Spreading. Dripping onto the pavement.

My vision blurs. My knees buckle.

Mrs. Vale steps back, eyes wide—not with concern, but with fear of consequences.

“I—I didn’t mean—” she stammers.

But she doesn’t move or help. She just watches.

I try to speak, but my voice breaks. “Please… help…”

She turns away and leaves me bleeding on the sidewalk like I’m nothing.

My hands shake as I reach for my phone, but it slips from my fingers and clatters to the ground.

I sank to my knees, the world spinning, the city roaring around me.

The world goes dark.