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He Broke My Spirit, I Soared Novel Cover

He Broke My Spirit, I Soared

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.
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Chapter 5

Eliana POV:

I pushed the heavy oak door of the master bedroom shut behind me. The thick wood clicked into the frame, instantly severing the warm, golden light of the hallway. For three years, this door had been my boundary. It was the line where I waited, night after night, listening for the sound of his tires on the gravel.

Now, it was just a door.

I didn't turn on the overhead chandelier. The darkness was familiar. It wrapped around me, a protective shell I had built back in my boarding school days. I walked over to the vanity and flicked on the single, dim wall sconce.

The pale light spilled across the walk-in closet. Rows of custom Hermes Birkins and bespoke couture gowns sat in perfect, color-coordinated lines. Jax’s money. Jax’s cage. I let my eyes sweep over the silk and leather, feeling absolutely nothing. My mother had always warned me about the poison of greed, maintaining her pride even when we had nothing. I wasn't going to take a single thread that belonged to him.

I knelt on the plush carpet and reached into the very back of the lowest shelf. My fingers found the rough canvas handle of a battered, black suitcase. I dragged it out. The wheels squeaked. It was the exact same suitcase I had packed when I left my childhood home at eighteen. It was the only thing in this house that was truly mine.

I stood up and pulled open the top drawer of the velvet-lined jewelry island. Diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds stared back at me. Every time Jax crossed a line, every time he let Catalina humiliate me, a new velvet box would appear on my pillow. The sight of the glittering stones made my stomach churn. They were apologies paid in cash.

I bypassed the velvet boxes and dug into the back corner of the drawer. My fingers brushed against worn satin. I pulled out a pair of scuffed, pink ballet shoes. The ribbons were frayed. I traced the worn toe block with my thumb. I had given up Juilliard for him. I had let my knee rot for him. I placed the shoes gently into the bottom of the black suitcase.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I popped the SIM tray open with a hairpin. The tiny plastic square fell into my palm. It was the secondary card linked to his corporate account. The leash. I pinched the plastic between my thumbnails and snapped it in half. The sharp edges dug into my skin. I tossed the broken pieces into the brass trash can.

I reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled out a cheap, prepaid burner phone. I dialed my mother’s encrypted number.

She answered on the first ring. "It's done."

"The funds?" I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the rain hitting the window. I had been planning this for a month.

"Every cent of your father's controlled assets has been moved to the offshore account," she said. "He can't use the company to threaten you anymore."

"Thank you, Mom," I breathed.

I hung up. The moment the call ended, a physical weight lifted off my shoulders. The chronic tension at the base of my neck simply evaporated. The invisible chains linking me to the Chicago cartel were gone.

I walked over to the nightstand. A massive crystal vase sat there, overflowing with white lilies. Jax’s men had delivered them yesterday. White lilies. Catalina’s favorite flower. He couldn't even be bothered to remember what I liked.

I looked down at my left hand. The ten-carat pink diamond engagement ring felt like a shackle cutting off my circulation. I grabbed the massive stone and slid it over my knuckle. It left a pale, indented ring on my skin.

I didn't place it on the nightstand. I just opened my hand and let it drop.

The heavy platinum band hit the white lily petals, crushing them beneath its weight, before sliding down into the center of the arrangement. His charity and her favorite flowers, rotting together.

I walked back to the suitcase and yanked the zipper shut. The metal teeth locked together with a sharp, final snap. A guillotine cutting the cord.

I stripped off my silk blouse and pulled on a plain black hoodie and faded jeans. No logos. No designer tags. I pulled a black baseball cap low over my face. I knew exactly where his security cameras pointed. I had spent three years memorizing the blind spots.

I grabbed the suitcase handle and slipped out the back door, moving silently down the servant corridors. I bypassed the main hall and pushed open the heavy fire door in the kitchen.

The freezing Chicago wind hit me instantly, biting through my thin hoodie. It smelled of wet asphalt and lake water. It shocked my lungs, waking me up. I stepped onto the wet gravel path. My right knee throbbed with a dull, familiar ache, but I didn't slow down.

I walked three miles in the freezing rain to the highway.

A standard yellow cab was idling by the shoulder, right where I had paid cash to reserve it. The driver got out, popping the trunk.

"Need a hand, miss?" he asked.

"Thank you," I said softly, keeping my head down.

I slid into the back seat. The car smelled overwhelmingly of cheap pine air freshener and stale cigarette smoke. It was the most disgusting, beautiful smell in the world. My lungs expanded. I was breathing my own air.

"O'Hare International?" the driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Yes," I said.

The cab merged onto the highway. The wipers scraped violently against the windshield, smearing the rain. I turned my head and looked out the window. The jagged, glowing skyline of Chicago was shrinking. The massive steel-and-glass tower of Jax’s corporate headquarters faded into the black clouds, swallowed by the night.

Forty minutes later, I walked through the sliding doors of O'Hare. I pulled a California driver's license from my pocket and handed it to the TSA agent.

"Have a good flight, Eleanor," the agent said, handing it back.

I walked to my gate and sat in the hard plastic chair. The boarding announcement chimed over the speakers. I looked at the dark windows, picturing Jax's face when he walked into that empty bedroom tomorrow morning. A cold, genuine smile stretched across my face.

A flight attendant walked by. "Would you like a beverage before we board, miss?"

"No, thank you. I just want to enjoy this sunrise without him."

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