Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit

The tension in the house had been suffocating for days following the gala.

Jax was avoiding me, a mutual arrangement that suited me perfectly.

But Catalina was emboldened. She prowled through the halls as if she already held the deed to the estate.

I was descending the main staircase. It was a grand, sweeping curve of marble, treacherous if you weren't careful.

Catalina was coming up. We met in the middle.

"You're still here?" she asked, blocking my path. "I thought you'd have gotten the hint by now. He doesn't want you."

"Get out of my way, Catalina," I said, my grip tightening on the banister.

"Or what?" She laughed. "You'll tell on me? Jax won't believe you. He believes whatever I tell him. I told him you were rude to me at the gala, and he's been complaining about your attitude all week."

She took a step closer. Her perfume was cloying, suffocatingly sweet.

"He loves me," she hissed. "He's always loved me. You're just a contract. A signature on a piece of paper."

"Then have him," I said, exhaustion bleeding into my voice. "I don't want him anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. She didn't like that. She wanted a fight. She wanted to win, but she couldn't win if I forfeited.

Without warning, she reached out and shoved me.

It wasn't a hard shove, but I was wearing heels, and I was tired, and my center of gravity was off.

I stumbled backward. My hand slipped from the banister.

The world tilted.

I fell.

My body hit the marble steps. Once. Twice. A sharp, sickening crack echoed through the foyer as my leg twisted beneath me.

My head slammed against the bottom step.

Pain exploded in my skull. White hot. Blinding.

I lay on the floor, gasping for air, the taste of copper filling my mouth.

"Jax!" Catalina screamed. It was a piercing, theatrical shriek. "Help! She attacked me!"

I tried to move, but my leg wouldn't obey. I looked up through the haze of pain.

Jax was running from his office. He saw us. Me, bleeding on the floor. Catalina, standing at the top of the stairs, clutching her chest, fake tears streaming down her face.

He didn't check for a pulse. He didn't so much as glance at the unnatural angle of my leg.

He ran up the stairs. Past me.

He wrapped his arms around Catalina. "Cat! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"I was so scared!" she sobbed into his chest. "She tried to push me! She slipped and fell, but she tried to kill me, Jax!"

"Shh, I've got you," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I've got you. You're safe."

I lay there, watching the man I had loved for ten years comfort the woman who pushed me, while my blood stained his expensive Italian marble.

That was the moment. Not the dinner. Not the gala. This.

The pain in my leg was excruciating, but the clarity in my mind was absolute.

I wasn't a person to him. I was furniture. If a fixture breaks while injuring a guest, you comfort the guest.

"Call... an ambulance," I wheezed.

Jax looked down at me then. His face was hard. Cold. "You're lucky you didn't hurt her, Eliana. Or I'd finish what gravity started."

He picked Catalina up bridal style and carried her away from the 'danger.' He shouted for a guard to deal with me.

Darkness swarmed my vision. I closed my eyes.

Later, in the hospital, the silence was deafening. My leg was in a cast. I had a concussion.

Jax came in once. He stayed for ten minutes. He checked his watch three times.

"Cat is really shaken up," he said, offering no inquiry into my condition. "You need to apologize to her when you get home."

I stared at the ceiling. "Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out," I whispered.

He scoffed. "Fine. Be a brat. I have to go anyway. Cat needs her meds."

He left.

My phone buzzed. A text from Catalina.

It was a photo. Blurry, taken in low light. It showed Jax draping his suit jacket over her shoulders, kissing her forehead.

*Caption: He's so worried about me. Thanks for the push. It brought us closer.*

I put the phone down.

I looked at the nurse who came in to check my IV. She had kind eyes.

"Nurse?" I asked.

"Yes, honey?"

"My engagement is over," I said. The words tasted like ash, but also like freedom. "Can you tell me how to get a taxi to the airport from here?"