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Love's Shadow, A Billionaire's Tears Novel Cover

Love's Shadow, A Billionaire's Tears

He broke my heart ninety-nine times, but it was the last one that finally killed my love for him. At his family's party, his new girl theatrically stumbled, pulling us both into the pool. My heavy gown dragged me down, and I gasped for air, reaching for him. But he shoved right past me. He saved her. Through the chlorinated water, I heard his voice, sharp and clear for everyone to hear. "Your life is no longer my problem." The world went silent. My love for him died in that pool. But the final humiliation came a week later, at a high-stakes poker game. He kissed her in front of everyone, a brutal, public execution of my worth. Then he looked straight at me, his voice booming across the silent room. "She's a much better kisser than you ever were." Later that night, I overheard him talking to his second-in-command. "I'll keep her around long enough to make Ellie jealous. Give it a few weeks. She'll come crawling back, begging me to take her back. She always does." My love, my pain, my heartbreak—it was all just a game to him. So I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I went home, opened my laptop, and applied to a university in New York. This wasn't a threat. This was a burial.
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Chapter 6

Eliana POV:

On my last day in Chicago, I returned to the academy to collect my final records. It was a formality, a loose end I needed to tie before I disappeared.

The campus was hushed, suspended in the lull between semesters.

I saw him near the old stone archway-the one where we'd once hidden during a sudden downpour years ago, his jacket wrapped around my shoulders.

He was taking pictures of Catalina.

She posed and preened while he directed her, his voice patient, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He'd always hated having his picture taken, swatting my phone away whenever I tried to capture a moment. Now, he was a devoted photographer for her.

I remembered standing in that exact spot with him four years ago, our futures stretching out before us like an endless, sunlit road. A future that now belonged to her.

I turned away, my footsteps making no sound on the grass, and walked toward the edge of the campus, where Gallo territory bled into Moretti land.

The old oak tree stood there, its branches heavy with the weight of decades.

I found our carving. A lopsided heart with 'J.M. + E.G.' carved within.

A promise made by two kids who thought they knew what forever meant.

I pulled the key to my old locker from my pocket. The metal felt cold against my palm. I pressed the sharp edge into the bark, right over my initial.

I scraped and clawed at the wood, digging until my own initial was nothing but a jagged, ugly scar. The pact was nullified. The promise, void.

"What are you doing over here?"

His voice. I didn't turn around. I heard their footsteps approaching, the crunch of dry leaves under their feet.

Catalina's voice was cloyingly sweet. "Jax, look. We should carve our initials."

I heard the whisper-slide of a knife being drawn from its sheath. Then, the rhythmic sound of metal cutting into wood. He was overwriting our history, carving her name over the space where mine used to be.

I dropped my key. It landed in the dirt with a soft thud.

"Looks like you lost something," Catalina called out, her voice laced with triumph. She bent down and picked up the key, dangling it from her fingertips. "You've lost everything."

Something inside me snapped. A primal, white-hot rage I didn't know I was still capable of.

I lunged forward and shoved her. Hard.

She stumbled backward, her arms flailing. Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. Her momentum pulled me with her.

We crashed through the surface of the lake together.

The icy water was a shock, a brutal slap that knocked the air from my lungs. My clothes became a lead weight, dragging me down into the murky darkness. I kicked, fighting my way back to the surface, gasping for air.

My eyes found Jax on the bank. He was already moving.

He dove into the water, his powerful strokes cutting through the surface. He was swimming right for me.

For a single, stupid second, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Then he swam past me.

He swam right past my gasping, struggling body to reach Catalina, who was staging a theatrical performance of drowning a few feet away.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her head above the water.

One of his men on the shore started forward, his eyes on me.

Jax's voice sliced through the cold air. It wasn't directed at me. It was an order.

"Her life is no longer my problem."

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