The penthouse at the very top of Asher Tower was everything Jason Asher had ever wanted people to see him in—sleek, expensive, untouchable. The palace of glass and stone towered above the city, its walls of windows flooding the marble floors with sunlight that felt more like a spotlight than warmth. Once, Jason had loved the view—the skyline sprawling beneath him like a world he owned. But ever since that morning he ca back from visiting Eliana, a week and a half ago, the place felt less like ho and more like a cage dressed in gold. He couldn’t shake the weight pressing in on him, and as he paced the echoing floor, it was as if even the glittering walls were closing tighter around him.
His golden-boy veneer, the one that had carried him through every classroom, every boardroom and every cocktail party, was cracked. His hazel eyes, once the easy charm that lted people into agreent, burned now with a stormy disbelief. His blonde hair—usually styled just enough to look effortless—was a ss, sticking up in wild spikes from his restless hands dragging through it again and again. He could still feel the sting of Eliana’s palm against his cheek. The skin had healed, but the insult burned deeper than anything visible. It was in his pride. In his carefully built sense of control.
Jason dropped onto the leather couch, its cushions sighing beneath his weight. The phone in his hand felt heavier than it should, like an anchor tethering him to a truth he refused to accept. Eliana’s number sat on the screen, silent and real, mocking him. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and muttered into the cavernous silence of the penthouse, "How could she do this to ?" His voice ca out raw, bouncing back from the minimalist walls lined with abstract paintings—cold, expensive pieces his parents had picked out. They scread prestige but gave nothing back to him, no comfort, no warmth.
He pressed her number again, thumb trembling despite his fury, waiting for a ring that never ca. Straight to voicemail. Sotis, worse, the robotic ssage that ant she had cut him off completely. He knew what that ant, but denial is a stubborn thing. He couldn’t let go. Not yet.
The rejection beep snapped him back, dragging his mind to the garden at the Vexley estate—the mont everything had splintered. He rembered the crushed petals beneath his shoes, their perfu rising heavy in the air while bees sward in confusion around him. Eliana had stood before him, no longer soft, no longer pliant. Her eyes, once filled with adoration, had turned sharp, furious, alive with sothing that made his chest twist. When her hand had connected with his cheek, it hadn’t just been a slap—it had been a declaration. A line drawn.
"Never put your mouth on again," she’d said, her voice like sharpened steel.
He had stumbled back, his ego reeling, hand pressed to his burning cheek. Words had tumbled out, stunned and foolish: "Eliana... what the hell? You slapped ?"
In Jason Asher’s mory, her response replayed like a broken record: "You lost that right—forever." Jason shook his head, leaning forward on the couch, elbows digging into his gym-toned thighs. "That wasn’t her," he whispered, as if saying it aloud could rewrite the scene. "The Eliana I know... she worshipped . Rember that ti I vanished for a whole week on that spontaneous trip to Ibiza with the guys? I ca back, no explanation, and she just... forgave . Wrapped her arms around , those full pink lips curving into that hopeful smile, saying, ’I’m just glad you’re back, Jason.’ She accepted everything—my flaws, my moods, even when I forgot her birthday because of so deal Dad was closing."
He stood up abruptly, pacing again, his stylish sneakers squeaking softly on the polished floor. The penthouse felt too big, too empty without her presence to fill it even though he had never brought her there. Eliana had always been the one to make spaces feel like ho, with her quiet strength and that natural elegance that shone through even though she was having a bad day. But now? "She’s changed," Jason said to the empty room, his voice cracking with a mix of frustration and genuine confusion. "Why? I an, yeah, I abandoned her when she needed most—after that whole ss with Kenneth Holloway’s kids swooping in like vultures, after her dad got sick. But I apologized! I said I was sorry in the garden. ’I’m not letting you leave ,’ I told her. ’We’ll talk when you’ve cooled off.’ What more does she want?"
A bitter laugh escaped him, hollow and echoing. He pictured her with that blind cripple, Rafael Vexley—tall, commanding, but supposedly helpless in his wheelchair, those grey eyes clouded and useless. "Her with him? No way," Jason scoffed, clenching his fist around the phone. "Eliana couldn’t possibly be serious about that guy. He’s a recluse, a billionaire, yes, but with too many disabilities. Wait... is that it? Is she punishing by pretending to move on? Yeah, that makes sense. She’s just angry, holding onto it like a shield. But she’ll co back. She always does. Eliana’s too loyal, too kind-hearted to stay away from forever."
But even as he convinced himself, a gnawing impatience clawed at his chest. He couldn’t wait for her anger to subside—not with Sarai breathing down his neck like a possessive shadow. Ever since he’d decided to reclaim Eliana, Sarai had beco unbearable. "Stay away," he’d told her over the phone just days ago, his voice firm. "It’s over, Sarai. I’m going back to Eliana." And she’d laughed—that elegant, sarcastic trill that once excited him but now grated like nails on glass. "You’re confused, Jason. Just a phase. I’m not leaving you. We belong together."
Jason tossed his phone onto the coffee table, watching it skid across the glass surface. He needed a plan. Sothing to win her back fast. As he stared out at the city skyline, a thought sparked, bright and promising. "That’s it," he murmured, his hazel eyes lighting up. "The properties. Kenneth Holloway’s kids—they took everything from her and her dad. The supermarket, the house... Eliana’s been fighting that battle alone. If I get it all back for her? Make those greedy Holloway siblings hand it over? She’d see as her hero again. ’Jason, you did this for ?’ she’d say, those expressive eyes filling with tears of gratitude. ’I knew you cared.’ And she’d run right back into my arms."
The idea blood in his mind, detailed and vivid. He imagined calling up his family’s lawyers, leveraging the Asher na to pressure the Holloways. "Dad’s connections in real estate could seal it," Jason said aloud, nodding to himself. "A few threats about audits or lawsuits, and they’d fold. Eliana would be so happy—her dad’s supermarket thriving again, their old house back where it belongs. No more struggling, no more resentnt. She’d forgive everything. ’You’re my savior, Jason,’ she’d whisper, her slender fra pressing against mine."
He was midway through ntally drafting the first call when the door to his penthouse burst open with a dramatic whoosh. Sarai Monroe swept in like a storm in designer heels, her light brown skin glowing under the penthouse lights, sharp green eyes locked on him with predatory focus. Her glossy jet-black hair was pulled into a sleek high ponytail that swished with each confident step, and she wore a form-fitting red dress that scread luxury—Versace, probably, paired with gold accessories that caught the light like fire.
Jason whirled around, his face twisting in anger. "Sarai? What the hell? How did you get in here?"
She dangled a key card between her manicured fingers, a smug smile playing on her full lips. "You gave this to , rember? Back when you couldn’t keep your hands off . And you forgot to take it back when you had your little ’epiphany’ about going back to Eliana."
He stord toward her, snatching the card from her hand. "I told you to stay away! We’re done. Over. Why can’t you just leave alone?"
Sarai didn’t flinch. Instead, she crossed her arms, her fierce beauty radiating an aura of unshakeable possession. She tilted her head, that sarcastic elegance dripping from every word. "Oh, Jason, darling. Always so dramatic. You think you can just cast aside like one of your failed ’entrepreneur’ sches? I’m not Eliana—I don’t take ’no’ for an answer. Besides, you’re confused. Deep down, you know we make sense. Power recognizes power."
Jason’s shoulders tensed, his strong jaw clenching as he pointed toward the door. "Confused? The only confusion is why you’re still here! I want Eliana back. She’s the one who gets , who forgives . You? You’re just... complications. Get out, Sarai. Now."
Her green eyes sparkled with a mix of amusent and venom, and she stepped closer, her perfu—a heady mix of jasmine and ambition—wafting over him. "Forgives you? Oh, please. Eliana’s done forgiving, Jason. Haven’t you noticed? That slap mark you ca back with a week ago? It wasn’t just anger; it was goodbye. But fine, play your little hero ga. I just heard what you’re plotting—getting her properties back? That’s cute. But before you do that, sit down. I have sothing very important to tell you. Trust , you’ll want to hear this."
Jason hesitated, his anger flickering with curiosity. "What could you possibly have to say that I’d care about?"
Sarai’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Sothing that changes everything about your precious Eliana. And everything about us? Oh, honey, you have no idea."
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