Chapter 100: My Sister's Bedroom
Jaxon’s POV:
Six days and few hours. That is exactly how long Elizabeth has gone without saying a single word to me. That is how long it’s been since I’ve seen her pout or watched her scramble upstairs, taking the steps two at a time just so she could hide her blushing face in her bedroom.
Once her vitals stabilized, I had the hospital discharge her into home care, hiring a private rotation of nurses to oversee her recovery. Right now, she lay in the center of my bed. A hint of color had finally returned to her skin; her cheeks were tinged with a slight redness, and that was the only sign I had that she would be waking up soon.
Yesterday, her brows had furrowed in her sleep, as if she were trapped in a nightmare I couldn't pull her out of. A sharp knock at the bedroom door broke my train of thought. “Jax?”
I walked over and opened it to find my mother standing there. I don’t know if a switch had simply flipped in my head, but ever since the accident, I couldn't stand the sight of her. Her face was a constant, stinging reminder of my own failures.
The doctor’s assurance that Beth would wake up only intensified my guilt. I couldn't help but think that if I had jumped into that pool all those years ago—if I hadn't stood there paralyzed by shock, watching my sister drown—then maybe Jade would have survived, too.
My grandmother used to remind me as I grew up that if I had jumped in, I would have died as well. I was four years old; I was small, and fear was a biological certainty for a child that age. She told me there was no need to carry the guilt of Jade’s death, but the look my parents gave me when they reached the pool—the way they looked at me over Jade’s lifeless body—was a ghost that would haunt me forever.
“You should have lunch,” Mother said quietly.
“Why are you still here?” I frowned at her. She had been been constantly showing up since we brought Elizabeth home. She and Miss Alice were acting as if they were the only ones capable of caring for her, but I didn't want them here.
“There is someone downstairs to see you,” she said, ignoring my question. She had been doing that a lot lately—acting as if my anger didn't exist.
“Then go join whoever is downstairs and get the fuck out of my house!” The anger boiled over, hot and uncontrollable. It had been a long time since I felt my temper fray this badly, but I was losing my grip. Just yesterday, I had completely lost it during an online board meeting.
Mother’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. I clenched my teeth, refusing to soften. “Your tears mean nothing to me, Camille. Leave.” I slammed the door in her face and paced back toward the bed, burying my face in my hands. This was a disaster.
I had been so careful. I had spent years making sure I didn't love anyone, making sure no one got close enough to hurt me. I never should have fallen for Elizabeth Mitchell. I should have walked away from that wedding the moment I had the chance, because deep down, I knew she was going to be the one to demolish every safety barrier I had ever built.
“You’ve got me completely fucked up,” I whispered with a heavy sigh. If she had died, I don't know what would have been left of me. I realized then that I couldn't afford to have someone this close to my heart.
I couldn't let my love for her ruin me; I needed to take a step back. If only there were a switch I could press to turn off every feeling I had for this girl. Maybe then I wouldn't have to live with this suffocating fear that one day she will leave and I won't be able to save her.
My phone began to ring. I hurried to grab it, cutting the noise before it could disturb Elizabeth’s rest. I retreated toward the window as Caleb’s voice came through the line. “We’ve reviewed every frame of the yacht’s surveillance footage, just as you asked.”
I had a massive doubt that Elizabeth had simply slipped. She might be clumsy and naive, but she valued her safety; she wouldn't have let herself fall. Furthermore, the doctor noted a fracture in her waist bone—an injury that suggested she had been pushed with significant force.
I had my suspicions about who was responsible; I just needed the evidence.
“The area where she fell is a significant blind spot,” Caleb continued. “The security team didn't think it was worth installing cameras in areas where the party wasn't actively taking place.”
The camera that had captured Elizabeth’s fall was mounted on the front of the yacht, meaning it couldn't see the person standing on the deck behind her.
“But at the exact moment she fell off, Cruella Mitchell was nowhere else on the vessel. The cameras don’t show her in the ballroom, the bar, or the lounges. My assumption is that she was exactly where the cameras couldn't see her.”
Right where Elizabeth had been.
It wasn't enough proof to send her to prison, but it was enough to start the destruction. “I want her out of my company. Effective immediately. And if anyone tries to hire her, make sure they know they’ll be answering to me.” I wasn't finished with her yet. She was going to spend the rest of her life wishing she had never touched my wife.
“Sir... what about your friend?” Caleb asked. The only reason I had let Cruella work there in the first place was because of Ash, but right now, I couldn't bring myself to care about his feelings.
“If he has a problem with it, then to hell with our partnership.”
There was another knock on the bedroom door. I hurried over, ready to snap at my mother again, but I exhaled in frustration when I saw it was Yana. She stood there holding a tray of food, a soft, sympathetic smile on her face. “Hey,” she said gently.
“You should go home, Yana.” I lost count of how many times I had said that sentence this week. First to Elizabeth’s friends, Rosa and Bella, and then to her sister, Vicky. Vicky had refused to leave and was currently staying in one of the guest rooms; I couldn't exactly throw her out since she didn't know a soul in the city.
“I told you, I’m not leaving, Jax. You’re busy taking care of Beth, so someone needs to take care of you, too.” She pouted playfully and nudged the tray toward me. Yana was a good friend—she had always been there for me—but I wished she understood that I didn't want her here. The only person I wanted was the one who couldn't even speak to me.
“I’m right here,” a voice called out from down the corridor. I turned to see Vicky approaching us. “I can always prepare a meal for Jaxon. You don’t have to worry about him.” Her tone was sharp—was that anger?
She shot me a hard look and shook her head, as if I were somehow betraying her sister by standing here with Yana. “I’ll be in the study,” I announced, walking away. I wasn't in the mood for any of this.
“I don’t know what kind of friendship you two share, but please don't do that in front of my sister’s bedroom,” I heard Vicky snap as I headed down the stairs. She had it all wrong—Yana and I didn't work like that—but like I said, I was finished with the conversation.