APKDock Logo
Chapters
share
He Broke My Spirit, I Soared Novel Cover

He Broke My Spirit, I Soared

Eliana was bound to the Chicago Outfit’s heir, Jax, for eighteen years. Yet, during their engagement, Jax ignored her drowning to save his mistress. After the same woman caused Eliana a career-ending injury, Jax dismissed her pain as a lesson in obedience. He sought to crush her spirit and turn her into a submissive wife. Instead of breaking, Eliana fled to New York. She traded her ring for a new life at NYU and a man who finally values her.
Chapters
share

Chapter 6

Jax POV:

I pushed open the heavy glass door of the VIP hospital suite. The sterile smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol hit my nose, instantly tightening my throat. I hated hospitals. The smell dragged me straight back to the night my mother died, coughing up blood on cheap sheets while I stood there, too small to do anything.

I shook the rain from my custom wool coat and stepped inside.

Catalina was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Her left wrist was wrapped in thick white gauze. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled with tears. She looked pathetic.

I didn't look at her face. My eyes snapped straight to the vital signs monitor bolted to the wall. Heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels. All perfectly steady. All completely normal.

"Jax," she whimpered, her voice trembling. She reached out with her good hand, trying to grab the edge of my coat.

I stepped back, dodging her touch. The movement was pure reflex. My stomach twisted with immediate, visceral disgust. I ran a multi-billion dollar syndicate. I smelled lies for a living. I despised women who used fake blood to force my hand.

I turned my back on her and glared at the attending physician standing nervously by the door. "How deep is the cut?" I demanded. My voice was completely flat.

The doctor swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. Nobody lied to me in Chicago. "It's... it's superficial, Mr. Vance. It barely broke the epidermis. We bandaged it to prevent infection, but no stitches were required."

"Jax, please," Catalina sobbed behind me. "I was just so desperate. I thought you were going to leave me. I didn't know what else to do."

Her voice grated on my nerves. It was shrill, desperate, reeking of the gutter she came from. I reached up and yanked my silk tie loose. The air in the room felt suffocating. Suddenly, my brain conjured the scent of cold tea and rain. Eliana. Eliana never screamed. Eliana never bled for attention. She just existed, quiet and perfect.

I reached into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and pulled out my leather checkbook. I uncapped my pen and scribbled a string of numbers across the paper. I didn't even look at the amount. Money was the only language my father had ever taught me. It fixed everything.

I ripped the check free and tossed it onto the hospital bed. It landed next to her bandaged wrist.

"Don't ever play this game with me again, Catalina," I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Next time you want to cut yourself, cut deeper. Don't waste my time."

"Jax! Wait!"

I didn't wait. I turned on my heel and strode out of the room, letting the heavy door slam shut behind me, cutting off her cries.

I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward the private elevator. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up.

Empty.

No missed calls. No text messages. Nothing.

My jaw clenched. Usually, if I was out past midnight, Eliana would send exactly one message. *Drive safe.* It wasn't nagging. It was just a quiet reminder that she was there. Tonight, the screen was completely blank. A cold prickle of unease started at the base of my neck.

I scoffed out loud, shoving the phone back into my pocket. She was just throwing a tantrum because I rushed to the hospital. She was playing hard to get. She would get over it. Tomorrow, I would buy her that limited edition diamond necklace she hadn't asked for.

I stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the underground garage. My driver was waiting by the black Maybach. I slid into the back seat. The heavy doors sealed shut, locking me in a soundproof vault of leather and tinted glass.

"To the office, sir?" the driver asked.

"No," I snapped. "North Shore estate. Now."

The Maybach glided out into the freezing Chicago rain. It was 4:00 AM. The neon lights of the city blurred past the windows, reflecting off the wet pavement. I owned this city. Every building, every politician, every street corner. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes.

But instead of darkness, I saw Eliana’s eyes. The way she had looked at me yesterday when I signed those vendor contracts. Her eyes had been completely dead. Not angry. Dead. The memory of that look felt like a physical needle sliding under my ribs.

The car slowed, tires crunching over the wet gravel as we passed through the massive iron gates of my estate. The security detail nodded as we passed.

The car stopped. My driver opened the door. I stepped out, my expensive leather shoe landing squarely in a muddy puddle. The cold water splashed my ankle. I gritted my teeth. Everything felt slightly off-center.

The front door opened before I reached the steps. My head butler stood there, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He looked pale.

"Good evening, sir," he said, his voice tight.

I ripped off my wet coat and threw it at his chest. I didn't say a word. I bypassed him and took the grand staircase two steps at a time. My heart was beating too fast. The house was dead silent. Usually, I could hear the faint clinking of porcelain from the kitchen as the staff prepped her morning tea. Tonight, there was nothing.

I reached the second-floor landing. The hallway was pitch black.

My boots stopped on the carpet. The air froze in my lungs. Eliana always left the small crystal wall sconce on for me. Always. It was her rule.

A sudden, violent wave of vertigo hit me. The floor felt like it was dropping out from under my feet. It was the exact same physical drop I felt when the doctor told me my mother was gone.

I broke into a run. I lunged for the master bedroom door, my hand closing over the cold brass handle. I braced my shoulder, expecting it to be locked. Expecting her to be barricaded inside, angry with me.

The handle turned effortlessly. It wasn't locked. She hadn't even bothered to lock me out.

I shoved the door open. The gray, pre-dawn light filtered through the massive windows, illuminating the room.

I stood frozen in the doorway. My eyes locked onto the massive king-sized bed. The silk sheets were perfectly flat. Not a single wrinkle. The pillows were perfectly fluffed.

My throat clicked as I swallowed. My voice ripped out of my chest, harsh and broken.

"Eliana, don't play this stupid hide-and-seek with me."

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

After My Fiancé Tried to Burn Me Alive Novel Cover
9.7
A perfect birthday dinner for two sets the stage for a dark mystery in After My Fiancé Tried to Burn Me Alive. With the private chef gone, the table is meticulously arranged with flickering candles and fine wine. Yet, this romantic atmosphere is suddenly shattered when her phone begins to buzz relentlessly. As the persistent ringing disrupts the quiet evening, a chilling modern horror unfolds, turning a night of anticipation into a terrifying struggle.
After My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby Novel Cover
8.3
A grieving mother’s world shatters when her husband abandons their child’s life to save his mistress. This ultimate betrayal fuels a dark transformation, turning a tragic romance into a supernatural nightmare. Consumed by maternal rage and empowered by sinister forces, she returns to exact a cold, calculated revenge. She will stop at nothing to punish the man who discarded their family, ensuring those who wronged her face a terrifying retribution.
After My Mate Helped My Sister Steal My Gift Novel Cover
9.0
At 9:47, six packs stamp the stone floor for a howl that should be mine—but it climbs from Annalise's throat instead. Leather cuffs bite my wrists, wolfsbane smoke sears my lungs, and my wolf stays chained under my skin. Above the altar, my sister wears my song like a crown, amber hair lit by torchlight, while the Alphas whisper about generational power. The worst part: my own mate helped her steal my gift. I could stop singing. I could let the healing die and take them all down with it. Instead, I hold the note and plan. When the cuffs finally come off, every pack will learn whose voice truly keeps them alive.
He Chose Her Heat Over Our Son’s Cold Grave Novel Cover
9.0
Elara endured three years of agony absorbing her Alpha mate's wounds, only to sever their bond with a blade to escape his betrayal. Now hiding as a rogue veterinarian in the icy Neutral Zone, her quiet exile is shattered when she discovers Kael. The ruthless Enforcer who desecrated her deceased son's grave lies poisoned and dying in the snow. Faced with her tormentor, Elara must decide whether to let the freezing winter claim him or use her silver scalpel to extract a cold, agonizing vengeance.
When My Husband Chose His Childhood Friend Over Me and Our Child Novel Cover
9.4
A husband's dark obsession with his delicate childhood friend drives him to commit the ultimate betrayal in this chilling modern novel. Blaming his wife for leaving Sierra out in the cold, Alan locks her in a freezing basement in her underwear. He ignores her desperate cries that she is carrying their unborn child, leaving her trapped in a sub-zero wine cellar. As she claws at the locked door with breaking nails, a terrifying struggle for survival begins.
THE FACE HE WORE. Dead men don’t knock. Novel Cover
8.2
Terror strikes when a relentless knocking sounds at the door. On the other side stands a man who should be dead, defying the laws of nature. This eerie visitation shatters the boundary between the living and the deceased, sparking a harrowing mystery. As the impossible return of a corpse unfolds, a desperate search begins to reveal the sinister truth. What dark secret lies behind the familiar face of a person who has risen from the grave?