Chapter Twenty-Eight The Fire Beneath the Ashes

Elena

The moment I stepped out of that café with Isla’s flash drive burning a hole in my coat pocket, I knew there was no turning back.

The wind howled through the street like it sensed the war I was about to start. My hands shook—not from fear, but fury. The kind of fury that simmered for too long under the surface until it started to boil.

I’d been too quiet. Too composed. Too damn trusting.

Not anymore.

Jasper opened the car door for me without a word, watching my face like he could read the storm behind my eyes. Once I settled into the seat, he slid behind the wheel and didn’t even ask what I was thinking. He already knew.

“She gave you everything?” he asked as he started the engine.

I nodded, staring at the flash drive. “Emails, audio recordings, calendar entries—she said it’s enough to prove collusion between Jason and Sophie. Enough to get the custody case thrown out before it even begins.”

“And Jason?” he asked carefully.

My lips curled into something that resembled a bitter smile. “Oh, I’ll deal with him. He wants a war? He’s about to get scorched.”

We drove in silence for a moment, the tension thick enough to choke on. My mind raced through possibilities—legal moves, psychological warfare, quiet revenge. I would use every tool I had. And when I ran out, I’d create new ones.

“You’re not alone in this,” Jasper said suddenly.

I turned my head, eyes narrowing slightly.

He met my gaze with calm conviction. “I know what it’s like to feel hunted. Gaslit. Torn down piece by piece until you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror. But you’re not going to lose this time. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Jasper always maintained his distance. Professional. Reserved. But now I could see something else in his eyes.

Determination. And something dangerously close to care.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “But this—this mess started with me. And I need to finish it with my own hands.”

He didn’t argue. He just nodded, as if he respected that.

As we pulled into the driveway of my house, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.

Jason’s car was parked outside.

“What the hell?” I muttered, my heart immediately slamming against my ribs. “He’s not supposed to be here.”

“Want me to stay?” Jasper asked, already putting the car in park.

“No,” I said firmly, already reaching for the door handle. “If I’m going to face him, I’ll do it on my own.”

I slammed the car door shut and stormed toward the house. My keys fumbled in the lock before I managed to push it open. The living room lights were on, and Jason stood there like he owned the place, glass of scotch in hand, leaning against the mantel like this was his home, his kingdom.

He looked up, unfazed.

“Elena,” he said calmly. “Didn’t expect you back this early.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” I snapped. “You gave up your right to walk through that door the moment you packed a bag and left our son behind.”

“I needed space,” he replied, sipping the scotch like this was a casual chat.

“You needed Sophie’s bed,” I corrected coldly. “Let’s not pretend this is about clarity or peace of mind.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I came by to talk,” he said, setting the glass down. “There’s no need for this to get ugly.”

I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was so far from the truth it felt like an insult.

“You think this isn’t ugly already?” I hissed. “You’re plotting with your mistress to take my son away from me. You’re selling out your own wife for courtroom leverage. And you think we can talk?”

“I just want what’s best for Noah,” he said.

The mention of my son’s name on his lips made something inside me snap.

“No, Jason. You want what’s best for you. You want freedom without consequence. You want to play the victim while Sophie plays the angel who’s here to ‘rescue’ you from your wicked wife. But I see you both for what you are—liars. Manipulators. Cowards.”

His jaw clenched.

“You don’t get to rewrite history just because you’re angry.”

“Oh, I’m not rewriting anything,” I said, stepping closer. “But I am documenting everything. Including the emails you sent Sophie about my mental health, about using my work schedule against me, about leaking sensitive legal files. Isla gave me a copy of everything.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. For the first time, he looked genuinely shaken.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quickly.

“I do. And the best part? You signed off with your name in those emails. Timestamps, IP addresses, digital trails—all of it pointing directly back to you.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“I’m going to destroy whatever case you and Sophie are trying to build,” I continued. “And after that, I’ll take back everything you tried to steal from me. My peace. My power. My son.”

“Elena—” he started.

But I was already walking past him.

“I want you out of this house. Now. And if you step foot on this property again without legal clearance, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

He hesitated, then gave me one last bitter look before storming out and slamming the door behind him.

As the silence returned, I stood alone in the middle of my once-shared home, heart still racing, adrenaline coursing through every vein.

This was only the beginning.

And for the first time in a long while—I wasn’t afraid of what came next.