Chapter 324
Graham’s Point Of View
Thirty-five minutes later, the sedan rolled up to the massive limestone security pillars of the Fiex Estate. This was one of the most exclusive, high-tier residential enclaves in the city… the kind of place where residents paid handsomely for absolute silence and invisible neighbors who minded their own business. Old money lived here alongside new tech fortunes, all united in their desire for privacy.
The security guard, a middle-aged man with a neat mustache and a crisp uniform, stepped out of the booth and leaned down toward my window. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said, his tone professional but pleasant. “Visitors require a pre-approved digital pass for this sector p>
I forced my classic boardroom smile onto my face, though my fingers gripped the leather steering wheel with enough force to turn my knuckles white. The tension radiated up my forearms, a physical manifestation of the anxiety churning in my gut. My shirt collar suddenly felt too tight, constricting my throat.
I reached into my pocket, then the glovebox, pulling out a small, silver-framed photograph I kept there… a picture of us from the charity gala two winters ago. In it, she was laughing into my shoulder while the camera caught the light in her hair, making it shimmer like spun gold. I’d looked at this photo so many times in the past two weeks that I’d memorized every detail: the curve of her smile, the way her hand rested on my chest, the genuine joy in her eyes.
“I’m actually here to see my wife,” I said, keeping my voice smooth and carrying that practiced Sinclair authority I’d perfected over years of boardroom negotiations. “Elena. She’s been staying here for her health. I wanted to surprise her p>
The guard examined the photo, then looked back at my face. His expression instantly softened into a warm smile, the kind reserved for romantic gestures. “Oh! Ms. Elena! Of course, sir. She’s down at number forty-two.” He paused, his smile widening with genuine affection. “She’s very kind, that one. Always waves when she drives through the gates, asks about my grandchildren. Just last week, she brought cookies for the whole security team. You’re a very lucky man to have her p>
My smile twitched involuntarily, a sharp, physical ache blooming behind my ribs like a knife sliding between bone. The guard’s words were meant as a compliment, but they landed like accusations. She brought cookies for strangers while refusing to answer my calls. She asked about this man’s grandchildren while blocking my messages. “I really am,” I murmured, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “Thank you p>
The heavy iron gates parted with a low mechanical hum, and I drove down the winding, immaculate asphalt paths of the estate. Ancient willow trees lined the road, their branches casting long, dancing shadows across my hood that moved like restless spirits. Perfectly manicured lawns stretched between the properties, each one a small kingdom of wealth and privilege.
When I finally reached the coordinates of her condo, my breath caught in my throat. It was a beautiful, low-slung modern building with large glass windows and white brick that gleamed in the afternoon sun… the kind of place she’d always dreamed about when we’d flip through architecture magazines on lazy Sunday mornings, circling designs she loved while I half-listened, too focused on my phone.
I parked the sedan a few feet away, positioning it slightly behind a row of neatly manicured hedges. The location gave me a clear view of the front entrance while keeping me partially concealed. I didn’t get out immediately. The exhaustion of the past two weeks suddenly crashed over me all at once, a physical weight that made my limbs feel like concrete.
My hands trembled slightly as I rested my forehead against the top of the steering wheel, eyes closed, the cool leather soothing against my burning skin. The headache that had been building since morning pulsed behind my eyes, a steady throb that matched my heartbeat. I hadn’t slept properly in days.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face… the disappointment, the hurt, the final resignation when she’d walked away.
’I really hope she sees me,’ I prayed to whatever god was listening to a hypocrite like me. ’I hope she lets me speak. Just five minutes. That’s all I need p>
Five minutes to explain, to apologize, to make her understand that I’d changed, that I could be the man she deserved. Five minutes to undo years of neglect and broken promises.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and reached for the passenger seat to grab the massive bouquet of blue delphiniums… her favorite, the ones she said reminded her of summer skies, and the basket of Belgian chocolates from that boutique she loved downtown.
The florist had looked at me with pity when I’d spent twenty minutes selecting the perfect arrangement, my desperation probably written all over my face. My hand was on the door handle, ready to push it open, when the front door of the white brick condo swung inward.
The smile on my face vanished instantly.
The air in my lungs turned to pure ice.
The person who walked out of Elena’s house was not her sister. It wasn’t a maid or a friend. It was none other than Jaxx.
My hand tightened on the steering wheel until the leather groaned under my palms, the sound loud in the sudden silence of the car. My heart didn’t just break; it felt like it was being ground into dust by a heavy boot, crushed slowly and deliberately.
He was wearing a dark, unbuttoned shirt that hung open, revealing his chest, his hair completely wild and disheveled, looking entirely too comfortable, entirely too at home in a space that belonged to her. To us. To our marriage, however broken it might be.
And then Elena followed him out onto the small stone porch.
My breath stopped completely. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity of torture. She was wrapped in a thick white bath towel, her bare shoulders gleaming in the afternoon Texas sun, her skin looking damp and flushed as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. Her hair hung in wet tendrils around her face, darker than usual from the moisture.
From where I was parked, the windows of my car were rolled down just an inch to let the breeze in, and the quiet layout of the estate carried their voices straight across the manicured grass, hitting my ears like physical blows.
“Can’t you just wait?” Elena was saying, her voice carrying that soft, familiar whine she only used when she was being stubborn with someone she trusted completely. She leaned against the doorframe, her fingers curling into the fabric of the towel at her chest in a gesture I’d seen a thousand times before.
That exact gesture used to be mine… she’d stand in our bedroom doorway just like that, trying to convince me to stay home instead of going to yet another late meeting. “It’s just to freshen up, Jaxx. Then we can go. Why do you have to run off right now p>
Jaxx turned around on the top step, a slow, incredibly tender smile breaking across his face as he looked down at her. The expression was so intimate, so private, that I felt like a voyeur witnessing something sacred. Something that should have been mine. He reached out, his large hand coming up to cup the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline with a casual, practiced intimacy that made me want to scream until my throat bled.
How many times had he touched her like that? How long had this been going on?
“I know, princess,” Jaxx murmured, his deep voice carrying clearly over the lawn. The endearment hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs.
Princess? He called her princess.
“But Roman said it’s a bit urgent down at the warehouse. Just give me fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, I’ll handle the shipment details, and I’ll be right back for you. Don’t lock the latch p>
Elena let out a low, frustrated pout, her shoulders dropping as she leaned her head against his hand like a cat seeking affection. “I want you to stay here,” she said, and I could hear the genuine disappointment in her voice, the vulnerability she was showing him so freely. “The house is too big when you’re not in the kitchen p>
’The house is too big.’ She’d said the same thing to me once, years ago, about our penthouse. I’d laughed it off, told her she’d get used to it, that she should enjoy the space. I’d never understood what she really meant… that she felt lonely, that square footage meant nothing without companionship.
I sat there in the dark interior of my sedan, the bouquet of her favorite flowers already wilting in the seat beside me, and I felt my soul split completely open. The pain was so visceral, so overwhelming, that for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but watch this scene unfold like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
I could vividly remember her like this… so vividly it hurt. I remembered when she used to stand in the doorway of my apartment, wrapped in my shirts that hung to her knees, complaining about the draft while I promised her I’d be back in ten minutes from the office.
I remembered the exact tone of her voice when she wanted me to stay, the way she’d grab my sleeve and tug gently, playfully. The way her face would fall when I’d kiss her forehead and leave anyway, always choosing work over her, always promising tomorrow would be different.
But now… it wasn’t me in the scene. It wasn’t my hand on her neck, my voice calling her princess. It was that bastard. Jaxx. The shadow brother. The one who was supposed to be nothing, nobody, invisible. The one I’d dismissed and underestimated my entire life.
A hot, violent rage erupted from the center of my chest, burning away the exhaustion, incinerating the sorrow until my vision went completely red around the edges. The flowers crushed in my grip, petals falling to the floor like drops of blood. Blue petals scattered across the leather seats, a mockery of the romantic gesture I’d planned.
I stared at his broad shoulders, his smug profile as he laughed at something she whispered, probably some private joke they shared. How dare he? How dare he stand there, touching my wife, making her smile the way she used to smile at me?
“No,” I whispered to the empty car, my voice dropping into a guttural, shaking growl as my fingers bit into the steering wheel hard enough to leave marks. The leather creaked under the pressure. “No… I won’t allow this. I won’t let him take the only good thing I’ve ever had p>
My eyes locked onto her face… the way she looked at him with such open affection, the lightness in her posture that I hadn’t seen in years. Not since the early days of our marriage, before everything went wrong.
Before I’d taken her for granted, before I’d prioritized everything else over her, before I’d let the distance grow between us until it became an unbridgeable chasm. She looked happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy in a way that made my chest constrict with jealousy and regret.
“Elena is mine,” I hissed, my teeth grinding together until my jaw ached and I tasted copper. The words came out like a vow, a declaration of war. My reflection in the rearview mirror looked wild, desperate, unhinged. I didn’t recognize myself. “She has always been mine. And she always will be p>