The Runaway Fiancée: Claimed By The Rival

Eliana Carter POV:

I bound my ankle in an ace bandage, pulling it tight enough to numb the throbbing, and stepped into my highest heels.

Pain was just a signal to the brain, and I had learned to sever those connections a long time ago.

I walked into Tyler's estate for the after-party.

The music was thumping, a heavy bass that vibrated against my ribs, masking the erratic rhythm of my own heart.

I saw the looks.

Whispers traveled faster than bullets in our world.

Everyone knew about the pool.

Everyone knew about the stairs.

They were vultures, waiting for me to break.

Mason Riley intercepted me near the bar.

He was Jax's Consigliere, and the only man Jax even half-listened to.

"Eliana," Mason said.

He looked down at my ankle, noticing the slight limp I couldn't fully hide.

"You shouldn't be here."

I picked up a glass of champagne, the crystal cool against my palm.

"I'm fine, Mason."

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"Jax is out of control."

"He's breaking the code, Eliana."

"You need to go home."

"I'm not the one breaking codes," I said coolly.

Suddenly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Jax walked in.

Catalina was on his arm, wearing a dress that cost more than my entire college tuition.

She saw me and smiled, a sharp, predatory thing.

Jax saw me and frowned.

He pulled Catalina toward the sunken lounge where the inner circle sat.

He sank onto the leather sofa, spreading his legs, taking up space like a king on a throne.

Catalina sat on his lap.

It was a public declaration.

In our world, you didn't parade the mistress in front of the wife.

It was a rule written in blood and honor.

Jax was burning the rulebook just to watch me choke on the smoke.

"Come join us, Eliana!" Catalina called out, her voice shrill over the music.

"We're playing Truth or Dare."

I didn't move.

I stood by the pillar, watching like a statue.

Someone spun the bottle.

It landed on Catalina.

"Truth or Dare?" a soldier asked.

"Dare," she said, her eyes locked on mine.

"I dare you to kiss the King of the Night."

She turned to Jax.

He didn't hesitate.

He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

It wasn't a soft kiss.

It was aggressive, messy, and loud.

He bit her lip.

She moaned.

The room went silent.

People looked at me, expecting tears.

Expecting a scene.

I felt nothing.

The part of me that used to care about Jax Little had died at the bottom of his stairs.

Jax broke the kiss and looked at me, challenging me.

He wanted a reaction.

He wanted me to scream, to fight, to show that I still belonged to him.

I took a slow sip of my champagne.

"Your lipstick is smeared," I said to Catalina.

My voice was steady, cutting through the quiet room.

"And Jax, you have cheap glitter on your face."

I turned to Mason.

"I'm leaving."

Jax stood up, pushing Catalina aside roughly.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, his voice booming.

"Away from the smell," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"Desperation is a very strong cologne, Jax."