Chapter 293 - 0293: You Think You Can Just Walk Away?

Chapter 293: Chapter 0293: You Think You Can Just Walk Away?

Elena’s Point Of View

The ride back to the suite had been a blur of high-speed turns and a silence so heavy I could practically feel it pressing against my eardrums. Jaxx remained focused on the road, his jaw forming a jagged line of tension, while I sat in the passenger seat attempting to reconcile the man who’d just "grazed" a woman’s hand with a firearm with the man who’d spent the morning ensuring I had enough avocado on my toast.

The contradiction made my head spin.

Who really is Jaxx?

The question buzzed like a persistent, annoying fly in the back of my mind, refusing to be swatted away. I stole glances at him from the corner of my eye, searching his profile for some clue, some crack in the facade that might explain the violence I’d witnessed. But his expression gave nothing away, as closed as a vault.

We finally made it back to the suite. The second the door clicked shut, the weight of the last twenty-four hours crashed down on me with the force of a tidal wave. The gala, the obsession, the "wife you up" threats, and now... the garden incident. Each memory felt like another stone added to an already crushing burden, until I thought I might buckle under the sheer mass of it all.

I kicked off my slides, my feet meeting the cool floor, and was about to faceplant onto the bed and pretend the world didn’t exist when my phone started vibrating like a frantic insect on the nightstand. I groaned, reaching for it. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the screen. Ten missed calls from Clara.

"What the...?" I muttered, sliding the icon to answer. "Clara? What is it? Is the warehouse on fire?"

"Madam! Oh, thank God you picked up." Clara’s voice pitched high, bordering on a full-blown panic attack. I could hear a muffled roar of shouting in the background, a chaotic symphony of crashing glass and shrill demands. The sound made my stomach clench.

"It’s very urgent. Your former father-in-law, Mr. Sinclair... he’s been here for the past two hours. He’s causing a massive disturbance in the lobby, Elena. I didn’t mean to disturb your trip, truly, but I’ve tried everything. Security attempted to escort him out, and he threatened to sue the entire building into the ground. He says he won’t leave unless he speaks to you directly."

The exhaustion that had been weighing me down vanished, replaced by a searing, white-hot flash of annoyance that burned through my veins like acid. My company. My sanctuary. The place I had built brick by grueling brick to escape that toxic family name, and now Sebastian Sinclair was standing in my lobby acting like he owned the floor tiles.

The audacity of it made my blood boil. Years of sleepless nights, of proving myself to skeptical investors, of clawing my way up from nothing, and he thought he could just waltz in and tear it all down in an afternoon.

"He’s doing what?" I hissed, my grip tightening on the phone until my knuckles turned white. "How dare he. How dare he bring his circus to my place of business."

"He’s shouting at the receptionists, Elena," Clara whispered, sounding like she was hiding in a closet. "He’s calling everyone incompetent. He even threw a decorative vase... you know, the Murano glass one from the Milan collection? It’s... it’s bad for morale. The interns look like they’re about to cry. Sarah from accounting actually did cry."

A protective fury rose in my chest, hot and fierce, eclipsing every ounce of fatigue I’d felt moments ago. Those were my people. My team. I had hired each of them personally, had watched them grow from nervous new hires into confident professionals. Nobody got to terrorize them, especially not a Sinclair.

"I’m coming right now," I said, my voice dropping into that dangerous, low register that usually meant a shipment was about to be cancelled or a supplier was about to lose their contract. "Lock the executive elevators. Don’t let him move an inch. I’ll be there in twenty."

I hung up and grabbed my purse, already heading for the door with single-minded determination, my earlier exhaustion forgotten entirely in the face of this fresh outrage. Jaxx was leaning against the wet bar, watching me with an unreadable expression that somehow managed to be both concerned and calculating.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, Bambina?" he asked, his voice deceptively casual. "The bed is right there, and you look like you’re ready to punch a hole through a wall."

"I am," I snapped, checking my reflection briefly just to ensure I looked lethal enough. War paint, my father used to call it, that particular expression that meant business. "My assistant just called. Graham’s father is at my company, causing a scene. Apparently, he thinks my lobby is his personal soapbox. I need to go and sort this out before he scares off my biggest clients or destroys what’s left of my team’s sanity."

Jaxx straightened up, his entire demeanor shifting from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat. His eyes darkened with something that looked almost like possessive anger, a shadow passing over his features so quickly I almost missed it.

"He is at your office? Alone?"

"And Matilda too, apparently. The whole unhappy couple decided to grace me with their presence." I shoved my phone into my purse with more force than necessary. "I don’t care if they brought the Pope; they aren’t ruining my business. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed to build it."

"I’ll drop you off," Jaxx said. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command disguised as a favor, delivered in that tone that brooked no argument.

"Jaxx, I can take an Uber..."

"I said I’m dropping you off, Elena." His voice carried an edge of steel that I’d only heard a few times before. "Don’t argue with me. Not today."

I didn’t have the energy to fight him, not when every nerve in my body was already stretched thin with the anticipation of facing Sebastian. I followed him downstairs to the underground garage, where the air hung heavy with the scent of gasoline and expensive tires.

He led me to a low-slung, matte black sports car that resembled a fighter jet more than a vehicle. We climbed in, and he tore out of the garage, the engine unleashing a primal growl that reverberated off the concrete walls.

The drive was fast. Too fast. I spent the time staring out the window, watching the city blur past while my mind raced in circles. Why now? Why would Sebastian show up at my firm? He’d spent years dismissing my logistics company as a "cute little hobby" while I was married to his son, barely concealing his condescension behind tight smiles at family dinners.

I remembered the way he used to look at me across the dinner table, as though I were an unwelcome guest who had overstayed her welcome, as though my very presence in his son’s life was an inconvenience to be tolerated rather than embraced.

Now that I was actually successful, and more importantly, gone from their lives, he suddenly had something to say? The timing felt deliberate, calculated to cause maximum damage.

When we pulled up to the glass-fronted skyscraper that housed my headquarters, the scene was already visible through the windows. Two black SUVs sat parked illegally at the curb, their presence screaming entitlement. Through the glass doors of the lobby, I could see the flash of Matilda’s signature pearls catching the light.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, my hand reaching for the door handle.

Jaxx reached out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. His touch was warm, firm, grounding, and for a brief moment, the chaos waiting for me inside felt a little less overwhelming.

"I’ll stay down here," he said. "If you aren’t back in ten minutes, I’m coming up, and I won’t be as polite as the security guards."

"I can handle my ex-in-laws, Jaxx."

"I know you can." His eyes held mine, steady and certain, something unspoken passing between us. "But I’m still staying."

I got out of the car and walked into the building, my heels clicking a sharp, rhythmic warning on the marble floors. The sound echoed my heartbeat... controlled, purposeful, refusing to betray the anxiety coiling in my stomach. With every step, I reminded myself of everything I had built, everything I had become since walking away from the Sinclair name, and I straightened my spine accordingly.

The second I stepped through the second set of doors, the noise hit me like a physical force. It was a war zone. My receptionists huddled behind the desk, their faces pale with fear. Two of my security guards stood awkwardly a few feet away, their postures tense, clearly hesitant to put their hands on a man whose name graced half the buildings in the city. The power dynamics were painfully obvious, and the sight of my employees cowering sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through me.

And there, in the center of the room, stood Sebastian Sinclair, his face a mottled shade of red that spoke of barely contained fury. Beside him, Matilda looked as if she’d smelled something particularly foul, her nose wrinkled in that familiar expression of aristocratic disdain I remembered so well from countless family functions.

"You call this a professional establishment?" Sebastian roared at a trembling intern who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. "This is a joke! A glorified post office! Where is she? Where is the girl who stole my son’s dignity?"

"I’m right here, Sebastian," I said, my voice ringing out across the lobby, calm and cold as a winter morning. I refused to let him see me shake, even as my pulse hammered wildly beneath my composed exterior.

The silence that followed was deafening. The staff looked at me like I was a savior descending from the heavens, their relief palpable, visible in the way their shoulders sagged and their breathing eased. Sebastian turned, his eyes narrowing until they were just slits of malice.

Matilda crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, the same expression she’d worn at my wedding, as if she’d known even then that I didn’t belong.

"Here I am," I repeated, walking right into the center of the chaos, each step deliberate and unwavering. I didn’t look at the broken vase on the floor, its shattered pieces scattered like my former life with their family.

I didn’t look at the panicked faces of my employees, though I could feel their eyes on me, watching to see how I would handle this. I kept my gaze locked on the man who had tried to control my life for five years, who had treated me like a possession rather than a person.

Sebastian walked up to me, closing the distance until I could smell his breath... expensive scotch and bitter resentment, a combination I’d come to know too well during family gatherings. He didn’t say a word at first. He just looked at me with a level of hatred that was almost impressive in its intensity, as if I’d personally destroyed everything he held dear.

"You think you can just walk away?" he hissed, his voice low enough that only I could hear. The intimacy of his rage made my skin crawl. "You think you can play these games and ruin my family?"

"I’m not playing games, Sebastian. I’m living my life." I held my ground, refusing to step back even as he loomed over me, drawing on every ounce of resolve I possessed. "Now, leave my office."

"Your office?" He laughed, a harsh, jagged sound that held no humor. "Everything you have, you have because of the Sinclair name. And you use it to spit on us? To humiliate us?"

"I built this myself," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor threatening to break through. Every contract, every client, every sleepless night, I had earned this, clawed it from nothing while he and his family had done everything in their power to see me fail. "And I’m telling you for the last time: Get. Out."

Sebastian’s face contorted, the mask of civility he usually wore in public completely shattered, revealing something raw and ugly beneath. Before I could even see it coming, his hand moved... a blur of movement fueled by years of unchecked privilege and rage.

His palm connected with my cheek, the sound cracking through the lobby like a gunshot. The sting spread across my face, sharp and humiliating, and for one suspended moment, the entire room seemed to freeze in horrified silence.

"Shut up!" he snarled. "You leech!"