Escaping The Billionaire's Gilded Cage

Alina Phillips POV:

Jaxon and Krystal left the villa early the next morning. I waited until their car disappeared down the long, winding driveway before I let myself back in.

The bedroom was a disaster. Her clothes were thrown over the chair where I used to sit and read. The sheets were a tangled mess on the bed we once shared. An empty champagne bottle and two glasses sat on the nightstand. The air smelled of her perfume, a cloying, sweet scent that made me want to gag.

I stood frozen in the doorway. A memory surfaced, unbidden. Jaxon, his arms wrapped around me in this very bed, whispering, "I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Alina. I swear it."

I let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. How could I have been so stupid?

I walked through the house, a ghost in my own memories. My music studio was the worst. My sheet music was gone, my keyboard covered in a thin layer of dust. In its place, on an easel in the center of the room, was a half-finished painting. Krystal's, I presumed.

He hadn't just replaced me in his bed. He had erased me from his life.

I turned to leave, a wave of nausea washing over me. There was nothing left for me here. As I stepped out onto the driveway, a sleek sports car came screeching around the corner, heading straight for me.

I only had a second to register the driver's face. Krystal Gomez. A triumphant, vicious smile stretched across her perfect features.

The impact sent me flying. I landed hard on the gravel, a searing pain shooting up my leg. My head hit the ground, and the world spun. Through the haze, I saw her get out of the car, her smile gone, replaced by a look of panicked innocence.

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the muted beeping of machines. Hospital. Again. My head throbbed, and my leg was encased in a heavy cast.

Through the half-open door of my room, I heard Jaxon's voice, low and soothing. "It was an accident, Krystal. The doctor said she just has a few scrapes and a minor fracture. She'll be fine."

I saw him wrap his arm around her, pulling her into a protective embrace as she sobbed against his chest. My own chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I remembered him holding me just like that, whispering words of comfort. Now, he was comforting the woman who had tried to kill me.

I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sent me falling back against the pillows. A moment later, Jaxon was there, his face a mask of concern. He gently lifted me back onto the bed.

"Alina, what were you thinking?" he asked, his voice a frustrated sigh. "Why did you come back without telling me?"

I stared at him, at the handsome face I had loved so much. It was the face of a stranger. A liar.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the rage and the pain. "Who was that woman?" I asked, my voice raspy.

He had the decency to look away. "That's Krystal."

Krystal herself appeared in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed but her makeup perfect. She glided to my bedside, a concerned frown on her face. "Oh, you must be Alina. Jaxon talks about you all the time. He thinks of you like a little sister. I'm so, so sorry about what happened. The brakes on my car… they're just not what they used to be."

Sister. The word was a slap in the face. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "I want to press charges. I want the police to investigate."

The atmosphere in the room turned to ice.

Jaxon's jaw tightened. "Alina, don't be ridiculous. It was an accident. There's no need to make a scene."

"It wasn't an accident," I said, my voice rising. "She accelerated. She aimed right for me."

"That's enough!" Jaxon's voice was sharp, cutting. He turned to Krystal, his expression softening. "You should go home and rest, honey. I'll handle this."

He walked her to the door, his arm around her waist. He didn't even look back at me.

I had always believed he would choose me. That he would stand by me against anyone. The reality of his betrayal was a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

He didn't come back until the next evening. He brought me my favorite pastries from a bakery across town, the same ones he used to bring me after a bad nightmare. The gesture felt like an insult.

"We need to talk," I said, pushing the box away.

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I know this is a shock. The marriage… it's a business arrangement. A contract. As soon as the merger is stable, I'll divorce her. I promise."

He took my hand. His touch felt wrong, foreign. "I love you, Alina. I've only ever loved you. Just… wait for me. Please."

I looked at him, at the earnest expression on his face, the pleading in his eyes. For a terrifying second, I almost believed him. He was that good.

Then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression immediately softening into one of genuine concern. He hung up quickly.

"I have to go," he said, already moving toward the door. "Krystal isn't feeling well. I'll be back to check on you later."

He never came back.

A few days later, my leg was feeling better, and I was allowed to walk with crutches. I hobbled down the hallway, needing a change of scenery. That's when I saw him.

He was in a private room at the end of the hall. The door was open. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Krystal's hand. She was crying softly.

"Don't cry," he murmured, his voice so tender it made my stomach churn. "The doctor said we can try again. We'll have a baby, Krystal. Our baby."

He gently stroked her hair. "You just need to rest and get strong again. I'll take care of you."

He was taking care of her. And I was just… the obstacle. The little sister. The responsibility he had to "handle."