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Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir Novel Cover

Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir

"She’s just like a sister to me, Eliana. You’re being dramatic." That was Jax’s excuse every time he chose Catalina over me for three years. When Catalina staged a fake drowning in three feet of water, he pushed me aside to save her, telling me my life wasn't his problem. But the breaking point came when she deliberately pushed me down a flight of stairs. My ankle shattered on the concrete. I was lying there in agony, unable to move. Yet, Jax didn't check on me. He stepped over my bleeding body to scoop Catalina up because she had a minor scratch on her elbow. He screamed at me for "hurting" her. While I lay in the hospital alone, waiting for surgery, he was spoon-feeding her soup in her dorm, posting photos captioned "My Hero." He thought I would always be his "Elie Bear," the doormat waiting at home to clean up his messes. He was convinced that no matter how much he hurt me, I would never actually leave. But he was wrong. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply signed the withdrawal papers, blocked his number, and boarded a one-way flight to New York without saying goodbye. Three months later, when Jax finally realized his "sister" was a nightmare and came crawling back to beg for forgiveness, he found me. But I wasn't alone. I was holding the hand of a billionaire heir who looked at Jax with cold, deadly eyes. "Touch her again," my new fiancé whispered, "and I will destroy your entire family by morning."
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Chapter 3

The annual spring formal was supposed to be the highlight of the year. Instead, it felt like an autopsy of my relationship.

I stood by the punch bowl, gripping a plastic cup as I watched them on the dance floor. Jax and Catalina moved with a synchronization that made my stomach turn. It wasn't overtly sexual; it was something worse. It was intimate.

It was a language of shared history that I didn't speak. He knew exactly when she would spin; she knew exactly how he would catch her.

"They look like they were made for each other," someone whispered behind me.

"Totally. I heard they're practically soulmates," another voice agreed.

I took a sip of the overly sweet punch to keep from gagging.

Catalina broke away from Jax and floated toward me, her dress shimmering under the strobe lights. She didn't look malicious. She looked helpful. That was the cruelty of it.

"You look tired, El," she said, touching my arm. Her fingers were cold against my skin.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling away.

She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I'm really glad you and Jax are still trying. I actually told him he should ask you out back in sophomore year. He was so unsure, but I said, 'Give her a chance, she needs someone.'"

The room tilted.

*She told him to ask me out.*

The ground beneath my feet felt like it dissolved. All those memories—Jax asking me to the movies, the shy confession, the first kiss—it wasn't passion. It was an assignment.

I was a project Catalina had assigned him because she wasn't ready for him yet.

"Excuse me," I mumbled.

I rushed to the bathroom, locking myself in a stall. I dry-heaved over the toilet, but nothing came up except the bitter taste of bile.

I left the dance early. I didn't tell Jax. He wouldn't notice anyway.

A few days later, I was in the student lounge working on an essay. A group of students from the drama club were drinking wine in the corner—technically illegal on campus, but no one cared. Catalina was holding court again.

She was tipsy, her cheeks flushed a deep rose.

"Jax is just... intense," she giggled. "You guys don't know the half of it. When we were twelve, I lost my charm bracelet in the lake. He spent four hours diving for it until his lips turned blue. He missed his own baseball championship game just to find a piece of cheap jewelry for me."

The group swooned.

"He's always been yours, hasn't he?" a girl asked.

"Basically," Catalina shrugged, swirling her wine. "I mean, he dates other people to pass the time, but when I call? He answers. Always."

I sat frozen behind a bookshelf.

*Dates other people to pass the time.*

Every detail she spilled matched a memory I had of Jax cancelling plans.

*Sorry, El, family emergency.* (He had been diving in a lake.)

*Sorry, El, got stuck at practice.* (He had been fixing her flat tire.)

The lies fit together like a perfect, horrifying puzzle. I wasn't his girlfriend. I was the commercial break in the Catalina show.

Jax walked into the lounge then. He looked around, spotting Catalina.

"Cat," he called out. It was automatic. A reflex.

Then he saw me sitting in the shadows.

His face went pale. He looked from Catalina, who was beaming at him like a prize she had won, to me.

"Eliana," he stammered. "I didn't know you were here."

He walked over, reaching for my water bottle on the table. "You look thirsty. Here."

I stared at his hand. The hand that had held mine. The hand that had held hers.

"No thanks," I said. My voice was steady, which surprised me. "I'm not thirsty."

Catalina watched us, a smirk playing on her lips. She raised her glass to me.

"Don't be rude, Eliana," she called out. "He's just being nice."

Panic flared in Jax’s eyes. "Cat, stop."

"What?" She laughed. "I'm just saying. You'd do anything for me, right Jax? Even fight your parents?"

Jax flinched. "That was a long time ago."

"But you did it," she insisted. "You told your dad you'd never take over the company if he didn't let me come to dinner."

I closed my laptop. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

I stood up.

"Eliana, wait," Jax said, stepping in front of me. "Did you eat? We can go grab a burger."

He was terrified. He could see it in my eyes. The adoration was gone. The patience was gone.

"I ate," I lied.

I looked at him, really looked at him. He was handsome. He was charming. And he was completely hollow.

"I have to go," I said.

"Eliana—"

I walked past him. I didn't look back at Catalina. I didn't need to. I knew exactly what her face looked like.

It looked like victory.

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