Chapter 260
In the sprawling penthouse that overlooked the glittering skyline of the city, Jason Asher paced like a caged lion, his golden-boy charm cracking under the weight of his own regrets. It was a week before the much-anticipated tech conference in the Adirondacks, and the air in his lavish living room felt thick with unresolved tension. The room was a testament to his spoiled existence—plush leather sofas, abstract art pieces that cost more than most people’s annual salaries, and a bar stocked with top-shelf whiskey that he had already raided twice that evening. His blonde hair, usually perfectly tousled, was disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration, and his hazel eyes burned with a mix of anger and desperation.
His phone buzzed incessantly on the glass coffee table, the screen lighting up with Sarai Monroe’s name for what felt like the hundredth time. He glared at it, his strong jaw clenching as memories flooded back—memories of stolen nights, whispered lies, and the ultimate betrayal that had cost him Eliana. Sarai, with her fierce beauty and manipulative grace, had been his undoing. But now, she was just a thorn he needed to pluck out.
Finally, with a growl of exasperation, he snatched the phone and answered. “What the hell do you want, Sarai? Haven’t you done enough p>
On the other end, Sarai’s voice slithered through the speaker like silk over steel, her light brown skin probably glowing under some designer lamp in her own opulent space, her sharp green eyes narrowed in determination. “Jason, darling, don’t be like that. I’ve been calling because I miss you. We were good together—better than good. Remember that weekend in Paris? The Eiffel Tower at midnight, the champagne… We can have that again. Just forget about her. Eliana’s moved on, but we don’t have to p>
He laughed bitterly, sinking onto the sofa and rubbing his temple. “Miss me? You mean you miss the drama you stirred up? You got between me and Eliana, Sarai. You whispered all those poison words in my ears, made me doubt her, and then you slithered into my bed like it was nothing. You’re the reason she’s with that monstrous cripple now—Rafael Vexley, of all people. God, what a joke p>
Sarai’s tone sharpened, her possessive streak flaring. “Cripple? Oh, please. Rafael’s a billionaire. Crippled or blind, he’s worth something. And Eliana? She’s always been too naive for her own good. I did you and her a favor, Jason. We can all be happy now. She was holding you back with her poor-girl sob stories so I gave her someone to leech on. Come back to me. We belong together—rich, ambitious, unstoppable. Bianca agrees; she says we could rule this city if we just p>
“Bianca? Your scheming sister? The one who taught you every wicked trick in the book? You two are like venomous twins, inseparable and toxic.” Jason’s voice rose, his gym-toned frame tensing as he stood up again, pacing to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights blurred in his vision, a mocking reminder of the empire he was supposed to inherit. “No, Sarai. I’m done. You ruined everything. I loved Eliana—still do. She was pure, kind, everything you’re not. I’m going to find a way to get her back. Block my number, or I’ll do it for you p>
There was a pause, heavy with her fury. “You think you can just toss me aside? After everything? Jason, you’ll regret this. Eliana’s not coming back. She’s wrapped around Rafael’s finger now, playing the perfect wife. But fine, block me. See how far your pathetic groveling gets you p>
With that, Jason ended the call and immediately blocked her number, his fingers trembling slightly on the screen. He tossed the phone onto the couch, where it bounced once before settling. “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath, but there was a pang in his chest—regret mixed with relief. Sarai had been thrilling, a fire that burned hot, but Eliana… Eliana was home. Her warm brown skin, those expressive honey-brown eyes, the way her curly black hair fell like a waterfall—he ached for her. He had to win her back, prove he was the man she deserved, not some cold, heartless billionaire playing games with people’s lives.
Two days later, Jason was nursing a hangover in his home office, surrounded by stacks of unread business proposals from his father’s company that screamed “heir to fortune” but felt like handcuffs. His parents’ real estate empire loomed over him, a constant reminder that he was more pretender than entrepreneur. He scrolled aimlessly through his social feeds, his hazel eyes glazing over celebrity gossip and stock updates, when a headline caught his eye: “Global Tech Titans Converge: Vexley Enterprises to Headline the Adirondack Conference p>
His heart skipped. Rafael Vexley. The name alone sent a jolt through him. That monster was headlining? Jason sat up straighter, his mind racing. If Rafael was attending, Eliana might be there too. She was his wife now, and yesterday’s gossip headlines said she was always by his side like some devoted angel. This could be his chance—the only chance—to see her again, to corner her in some snowy chalet and pour out his soul.
“Oh, man,” he whispered to himself, a grin breaking through despite the anxiety churning in his gut. “This is it. My move.” He imagined her face softening, her full pink lips curving into that hopeful smile as he confessed his undying love. “Eliana, I was a fool. Sarai meant nothing. You’re the one I cherish, the one I’ve always loved.” Yeah, that sounded good. Poetic, even. Eliana had always loved him, and she would definitely come back to him if he begged hard enough.
But first, the invite. These conferences weren’t open to just anyone; they were exclusive, guarded by velvet ropes of influence and money. Jason bolted from his chair, nearly knocking over a crystal vase in his haste. He grabbed his phone and dialed his father, Reginald Asher, the real estate mogul whose connections could open doors—or so Jason hoped.
“Dad? Hey, it’s me. Listen, I need a favor. Huge one.” His voice was breathless, like a kid asking for candy.
Reginald’s gruff tone came through, laced with the perpetual disappointment Jason had grown used to. “Jason? What now? Another ’business idea’ that needs funding? Or did you crash the Porsche again p>
“No, no, nothing like that.” Jason paced the office, his stylish casual wear—designer jeans and a fitted polo—rumpling as he moved. “There’s this tech conference in the Adirondacks. I bet you’ve heard of it. Vexley Industries is headlining. I need an invite. It’s crucial for… networking. Expanding the family portfolio p>
There was a pause on the other side of the line. “Tech? Since when do you care about tech? We’re real estate, boy. Stick to what you know p>
Jason’s mind whirred, fabricating on the spot. “Dad, think about it—tech and real estate are merging. Smart buildings, AI integration. This could be huge for us. And Rafael Vexley? He’s the keynote. Almost everyone is going hoping to collaborate with his company. Please, pull some strings. You know everyone p>
Reginald sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “Fine. I’ll make a call. But Jason, this better not be about chasing skirts. Your mother and I are tired of cleaning up your messes p>
“It’s not—okay, maybe a little. But it’s Eliana, Dad. I messed up, but I can fix it. She’s with Vexley now, and if I can just talk to her p>
Another sigh. “Eliana? The girl again? The same girl from the wrong side of the tracks? Son, move on. But alright, I’ll try. Don’t embarrass the family name p>
Jason hung up, fist-pumping the air like he’d won the lottery. But the wait was agony. Hours turned into a day, and he ran around like a headless chicken—calling old college buddies, emailing vague acquaintances, even sliding into DMs of influencers who might have connections. “Hey, bro, long time! Any chance you got an extra invite to the Adirondacks thing?” He’d type, then delete, rephrase, send. Rejections piled up, each one a gut punch.
“Come on, universe,” he muttered in his gym, pounding the treadmill as sweat dripped down his strong jawline. “Give me this one.” Funny how desperation turned a golden boy into a clown—him, Jason Asher, heir extraordinaire, begging like a pauper.
Finally, at the last minute—literally two days before departure—his phone pinged with an email from his father’s assistant: “Invite secured. VIP access. Don’t screw it up p>
“Yes!” Jason whooped, jumping so high he nearly hit his head on the chandelier. He rushed to his bedroom, yanking open his walk-in closet that rivaled a boutique. Packing became a frantic comedy of errors. Suits flew out—too formal? Too casual? He held up a navy blazer, imagining Eliana’s eyes lighting up. “This one says ’successful but approachable,’ right p>
He called his collage friend, Marcus, for backup, putting him on speaker as he stuffed clothes into a Louis Vuitton suitcase.
“Dude, you won’t believe it—I got the invite!” Jason exclaimed, his voice bubbling with manic energy.
Marcus chuckled on the line. “The Adirondacks thing? Sweet. What’s the play? Schmoozing billionaires or chasing exes p>
“Both, man. Mostly Eliana. She’s gotta be there with Vexley. I just know it.” Jason paused, folding a shirt with exaggerated care. “I have to convince her, Marcus. Tell her how much I love her, how I cherish every moment we had. Sarai was a mistake—a stupid, drunken mistake p>
“Bro, you cheated with her best friend. That’s not a mistake; that’s a catastrophe.” Marcus’s tone was half-joking, half-serious. “And now you’re crashing a conference to win her back? Sounds romantic… or stalker-ish p>
Jason laughed, but it was forced, emotional cracks showing. “Romantic, definitely. Picture it: Snowy mountains, fireplaces, me on one knee apologizing. She’ll melt p>
“Or she’ll slap you and Rafael Vexley would have you shot and buried beneath the mountain. But hey, go for it. What’s the worst—getting frostbite on your dead body p>
As he packed, Jason’s mind wandered to heartfelt rehearsals. “Eliana, my love,” he practiced in the mirror, his hazel eyes pleading. “I was blind—ironic, huh, considering Vexley’s situation? But I see now. You’re the one. Come back to me p>
The next morning, departure day, Jason stood at the private airstrip, his suitcase wheeled behind him, dressed in expensive casual wear that screamed “effortless wealth.” The jet loomed like a silver bird, engines humming promises of redemption. His heart pounded—nerves, excitement, a dash of fear. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was, but with Rafael’s arm around her, that protective thumb circling her belly like in the rumors?
He boarded, settling into a leather seat, staring out the window as the plane taxied. “This is it,” he whispered to himself. “My chance to show her how much I cherish her. Pray she’s there p>
The engines roared, and the jet lifted off, carrying Jason toward the Adirondacks—and toward a confrontation that could either mend his broken heart or shatter it forever.