Chapter 3
Nora had suddenly returned—but barely alive.
She stumbled into the estate, her clothes torn, her skin littered with bruises and dried blood. A gasp rippled through the gathered men, but before anyone could react, she swayed.
Jaxon was there in an instant.
"Don’t touch her," he growled, shoving aside anyone who dared step forward. With surprising gentleness, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
"Call the doctor," he barked at his men. “Now.”
The urgency in his voice sent them scrambling.
Nora let out a weak, ragged breath, her fingers twitching against his shirt. Her head lolled slightly, and as if drawn by an invisible force, her gaze locked onto mine.
A chill swept through me.
Why was she looking at me like that?
Jaxon felt the change, his sharp eyes following her gaze. The room went deathly silent.
Then, with the last of her strength, Nora lifted a trembling hand and gripped Jaxon’s sleeve.
His brows furrowed. “Nora?”
Her lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper, “She… ordered the hit on me, Jaxon.” Her breath shuddered, her grip tightening. “Valerie wanted me dead.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Jaxon stiffened, his entire body going rigid. A storm brewed in his gaze as his head snapped toward me.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak—Nora’s body slumped against him, unconscious.
Jaxon didn’t hesitate.
"Take her," he commanded.
I barely had a second to react before his men stormed forward. Strong hands grabbed my arms, wrenching me away from my spot.
“No—wait!” I struggled, my voice rising in panic. “Jaxon, I didn’t—”
He didn’t even spare me a glance.
I was dragged from the room, my desperate pleas echoing off the cold walls.
Jaxon had left me to drown. I was dead. He would be happy now.
There was no chance of me ever coming between them again.
Because I was already dead.
******
The morning was quiet, except for the steady sound of boots crunching against wet dirt.
Jaxon stood a few feet away from the pit, his arms crossed and his eyes dark with cold authority. Nora was beside him, wrapped in a thick coat, still pale and fragile-looking. She held onto Jaxon’s sleeve, like she needed his strength just to stand.
"Valerie," Jaxon called out. "Nora’s fine now. I told you—I'd spare you for her sake. But you’re not walking out of that pit until you beg her for forgiveness."
There was Silence.
Jaxon exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t make me say it again.”
Yet there was still no response.
His fingers curled into fists. "Valerie!"
His patience snapped. “You think staying quiet is gonna make me change my mind? You got yourself into this, now fix it. Beg Nora for forgiveness.”
Still, nothing.
Nora hesitated before stepping forward. “Jaxon… let it go.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll forgive her. I don’t want this to go on anymore.”
Jaxon’s jaw ticked. “You’re too kind, Nora.” His gaze flicked back to the pit. “She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. And she’s not getting out until she earns it.”
Nora touched his arm gently. “She’s your wife, Jaxon.”
Jaxon scoffed. “She lost the right to be my wife the moment she hurt you.”
“She’s still human,” Nora whispered. “I’ll endure her being around. Just… bring her out.”
Jaxon sighed, shaking his head. “She needs to learn, Nora.” His voice dropped. “She’s not getting out until she apologizes.”
Jaxon turned to Mason, his voice edged with frustration. “Check the pit.”
Mason hesitated before stepping forward. He peered inside. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to Jaxon.
“You should look for yourself, boss.”
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
His tone dropped low, his fingers trembling. “I think it's best you see it yourself, boss.” He said and took a step back.
Jaxon’s irritation flared. He thought Valerie was playing games with him, trying to mess with his head. With a sharp breath, he strode forward, stopping just short of the edge.
"Valerie," he barked. "Enough of this. Get up."
No movement.
His fingers twitched.
“You better respond to me, or I swear I’ll—”
Then he saw a body, half-buried in the mud.
For a second, Jaxon didn’t react. His brain refused to process what he was looking at.
“Valerie,” he called again, his voice sharp. His body tensed and his jaw locked.
“Valerie, stop this bullshit right now.” His voice was harsh. Still, she didn’t move.
“Fine.” His voice was low now, controlled. “You wanna act dead? I’ll make sure you wish you were.”
He turned to his men. “Get her out.”
Nobody moved at first. Even Mason looked hesitant.
“I said bring her the fuck out!” Jaxon snapped.
Two men hurried forward, grabbing a rope. One of them muttered, “Shit,” under his breath as they lowered it down.
Jaxon didn’t move from his spot. He just stood there, waiting.
The men hauled the body out of the pit, their boots squelching in the thick mud. Jaxon stood back, his arms crossed.
The body was covered in filth, caked in dried mud, the once-vibrant dress now a torn, soaked mess. One of the men hesitated, glancing at Jaxon before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the face clean.
The moment the mud cleared, Jaxon froze.
Valerie.
Her skin was pale, lips slightly parted, eyes closed—motionless. Lifeless.
For the first time in years, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.
Jaxon clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides.
“Take care of it,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse, strained. “Get rid of the body.”
