Elfrieda Stewart POV
Three days later, Jaxon tried to buy my forgiveness.
He arrived at my parents' house, where I had sought refuge, in a sleek black town car with a chauffeur.
"We're going shopping," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Get in."
He didn't ask about my burns.
He didn't ask about my arm.
He simply assumed that, as always, I would fall in line and do exactly what I was told.
I got in the car.
Not because I forgave him.
But because I intended to bleed him dry before I made my escape.
We were driven to the Diamond District.
He ushered me into the most exclusive boutique in the city.
"Pick whatever you want," he said, waving his hand expansively. "Anything to make you smile again, El."
I noticed a sheen of perspiration on his brow.
The Boss must have been asking difficult questions about the gala.
He needed me happy. He desperately needed the optics.
I pointed to a diamond necklace displayed under the glass.
It was delicate, shaped like a single, frozen teardrop.
"That one," I said.
The jeweler took it out.
Jaxon pulled out his black card.
Then, the door chimes announced an arrival.
Janice walked in.
Of course she did.
She wasn't stalking us; he had been feeding her our location.
She walked straight up to the counter, ignoring me completely.
"Oh, Jaxon," she cooed. "It's beautiful."
She reached out and snatched the necklace from the jeweler's hand.
"Try it on me," she commanded.
Jaxon froze.
His gaze darted to me.
Then back to her.
This was the test.
"Janice, that's for Elfrieda," he said, his voice weak.
"But I like it," Janice pouted. "And it's my birthday next week. Don't you love me?"
She held the diamonds to her throat.
She looked at him with that manipulative, heavy-lidded gaze that she knew he couldn't resist.
Jaxon swallowed hard.
He turned to me.
"El," he said, forcing a smile. "You don't really like diamonds, right? You've always preferred pearls. They're more... innocent."
I stared at him, my expression unreadable.
"Give her the necklace," I said.
Jaxon let out a breath of relief.
"Wrap it up," he told the jeweler. "For the lady in white."
He bought me a pair of pearl earrings as a consolation prize.
Cheap ones.
We walked out of the store.
Janice was wearing the diamonds, preening in the reflection of the window.
Jaxon tried to take my hand.
I pulled away sharply.
"I have to go," I said.
"Where?"
"To sell these," I said, holding up the bag with the pearls.
"What?"
"And the car you bought me," I continued, my voice steady. "And the dresses. And the furniture in the penthouse."
"You can't do that," Jaxon laughed nervously. "That's my money."
"It was a gift," I said. "Gifts are property."
I hailed a passing taxi.
I went straight to a high-end pawn shop.
I sold everything I had on me.
Every token of affection, every lie he had ever wrapped in a bow.
I walked out with a check for fifty thousand dollars.
I went back to my parents' house.
I retreated to my room and pulled a letter out from under my mattress.
It was an acceptance letter to the Royal Academy of Music in Oslo, Norway.
I had deferred it for three years.
Because Jaxon said he couldn't live without me.
Because Jaxon said Chicago was my home.
I opened my laptop.
I sent an email to the admissions office.
*I accept.*
My phone rang.
It was Jaxon.
"My lawyer drafted a pre-nup," he said, skipping the hello. "Just standard stuff. To protect the family assets. I'm coming over to have you sign it."
"Don't bother," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not signing a pre-nup, Jaxon."
"You have to," he growled, his patience evaporating. "Or there's no wedding."
I looked at the Norwegian stamp on the envelope.
"Exactly," I said.
I hung up.
I blocked his number.
But I knew it wasn't over.
Men like Jaxon Tate didn't let their property walk away.
They destroyed it first.
