Chapter 43 A Breather Would Suffice
Elena’s POV
He didn’t respond to what I said but I decided not to think too much about it.
I just blinked, trying to grasp the sudden shift.
“Julian Roman… after all this time…”
The name felt unreal on my tongue, like it belonged to a story I’d read once and forgotten—until now.
Jack nodded slowly like the motion itself cost him something. His gaze wasn’t really on me anymore. It had drifted somewhere far past the kitchen table, past the penthouse, and past the city.
“It’s really him,” he said quietly. “I had to see it for myself. I kept thinking maybe it was another dead end, probably another lie.” His jaw tightened. “But it’s actually him. He now looks older and weaker. But it’s him.”
The emotion that dripped from his tone twisted something in my gut.
The room went still, as if the air itself had paused to absorb that truth or like the ground had shifted without warning.
So I tried to reconcile the enormity of what he was saying with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
I searched his face, and I saw that the sharp edges were still there—the control, the restraint—but something underneath had cracked open.
Jack leaned back slightly, his elbows braced against the edge of the table and his fingers laced together as if holding himself in place.
“I thought…” He exhaled through his nose. “I thought finding him would give me something solid. Like something I could finally work with... Maybe a direction?” He shook his head.
My throat tightened. “What about now?”
He looked at me and for the first time since I’ve known Jack Roman, the steel in his eyes dulled enough for the uncertainty to bleed through.
“About the leverage your father might have on me—I believed that my father was that leverage. But now that he’s found,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure he was ever the leverage Conrad had over me in the first place.”
The words landed hard.
He thought his father was the leverage? I thought the leverage in question would be something darker.
I frowned, my mind racing ahead, filling in the gaps I didn’t want to see. “You think… it might’ve been something else all along?” I said anyway.
“I don’t know.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s the problem. Maybe Conrad knew exactly where he was the whole time, maybe the point was never to use him—just to keep him hidden. To keep me guessing.”
He shook his head slowly, as if replaying the years of frustration in his mind.
“It worked. I spent years chasing shadows. Every lead, every rumor, every whispered name. I kept asking myself why my father vanished, what secrets he took with him. I thought if I found him, everything would click into place.” He stopped speaking, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“Now I finally find him,” he continued, more quietly, “and he’s lying in a sterile room, hooked up to machines, barely breathing. I can’t get anything out of him, Elena. Not answers, not truth. Nothing.”
My chest tightened painfully. I could feel it now—his frustration, yes, but also something deeper like helplessness. The grief he hadn’t given himself permission to name.
Jack Roman, the man who always knew his next move, who lived ten steps ahead of everyone else… was stuck. Adrift in a sea of maybes. I never saw him like this.
“I thought I was prepared,” he said softly.
“Prepared for whatever I would find—anger, lies, even betrayal.” His lips pressed together. “But I wasn’t prepared for this, not for limbo.”
I blinked back something because I didn’t trust my voice. I just reached across the table instead, my fingers brushing the back of his hand. The contact was tentative, almost uncertain—but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, just enough for me to notice.
The warmth of his skin grounded me.
“What will you do now?” I asked quietly.
He stayed silent for a moment before he finally shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”
I watched his fingers flex under mine. “But whatever Conrad’s game is,” he added, lifting his eyes to meet mine again, “I believe it just got more complicated.”
A chill ran through me—not from fear alone, but from complete awareness. I knew it all too well, that sense that you’d reached what you thought was the end, only to realize it was just another door.
I wasn’t even sure how to reassure him when I haven't completely reassured myself. I just squeezed his hand gently. “Then we will face it the same way we’ve faced everything else.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Together?”
“Together,” I said, without hesitation.
He studied me for a long second, as if weighing something unspoken. Then he nodded.
Immediately, I pushed myself up from the dining table slowly, as if standing too fast might crack something fragile inside me. The chair legs scraped softly against the polished floor, as I gathered my robe tighter around my waist, my fingers fumbling slightly with the belt.
The breakfast I’d barely touched sat abandoned behind me—eggs gone cold, toast untouched, coffee forgotten. My stomach felt steadier than it had earlier, but there was still that lingering, unpleasant flutter in my chest.
“I think I’ll just head back to my room,” I murmured.
My words felt thin, like an excuse I didn’t quite believe myself. I kept my eyes on the marble countertop, on a tiny crack I’d never noticed before, well anything but Jack’s face.
Then I took a step toward the hallway.
“Are you going to the office today?”
Jack’s voice stopped me cold.
My fingers tightened instinctively around the robe’s belt as I turned back toward him. He was still standing by the kitchen island, one hand resting near his coffee mug, his posture deceptively relaxed. He's so fine... My mouth watered slightly at the thought.
For a split second, I considered lying to him. You know like something easy and practiced—A meeting, a call, maybe a vague excuse about checking in with Layla or handling something urgent for the board.
But I’d been doing that my entire life—choosing the answer that kept everything moving, even when I was unraveling inside.
But honestly, I was too tired and exhausted to pretend.
“No,” I said finally, shaking my head faintly.
“I won’t be going in.”
The admission felt strange, it felt almost rebellious.
“I just…” I hesitated, searching for words that didn’t make me sound weak. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here today. You know.. Just rest and clear my head.”
Jack watched me closely, his gaze sharpening without suspicion, but concern. He nodded once, slow and deliberate, as if absorbing the weight behind what I hadn’t said.
“What about Mark?” he asked. “And the board?”
I leaned against the doorframe, the cool surface pressing into my shoulder. Suddenly, standing felt like too much effort.
“I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “I really don’t.” My voice wavered despite my effort to keep it steady. “I haven’t figured it out yet… and I honestly don’t want to think about it right now.”
I dragged in a breath, frustration bubbling sharp and bitter inside me.
“I just—” I exhaled harshly. “I just want to step away from all of it. From Vale Corp, from my father’s grip and from all the goddamn drama.” I chuckled awkwardly.
The words tumbled out faster than I intended, raw and unfiltered. Once spoken, they hung in the air between us, exposing more of me than I was comfortable with.
Jack didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, he set his mug down and crossed the room toward me. His steps weren’t rushed, but there was intention in the way he moved towards me, like he was bracing himself for something fragile. When he reached me, his hands came to rest gently on my waist. And I welcomed it even though the contact made my breath hitch before I could stop it.
I looked up at him, instinctively, my eyes locking with his. For a moment, the world narrowed to just us standing there—two exhausted people clinging to a quiet morning that felt too small to hold everything pressing in on us. His eyes weren’t distant now, they were soft and searching.
“Elena,” he said quietly. “You remember that trip I suggested at the beginning... The one you never got to take?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Jack, I—”
“I know,” he cut in gently, as if afraid I’d shut him down. “I know this isn’t the right time, Elena and maybe it’s selfish of me to bring it up now.” His thumbs shifted slightly at my waist, grounding me. “But I can’t keep watching you burn yourself out like this.”
His voice dropped. “You need space, trust me. You need something different even if it’s just for a little while.”
I turned my face away, staring at the wall beside us. The idea hit me harder than I expected. A trip—an escape. The thought sent a sharp jolt through my chest—part longing, part fear. It sounded wonderful but it also sounded impossible.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered. “Everything’s on fire, Jack. Vale Corp, the board, Damien… my father.” I laughed weakly, the sound brittle. “Every direction I turn, something is waiting to implode. How do I just… leave... that?”
He lifted a hand and gently tilted my chin until I had no choice but to look at him.
“Maybe you don’t have to leave everything behind,” he said softly. “But you can take a breather. You’re allowed to, Elena.”
His words landed deeper than I was prepared for.
I searched his face for something—an angle, a plan, or possibly an hidden motive—but there was nothing there. It was honestly just him offering me permission I’d never given myself.
Still, guilt and a handful of fear coiled tight in my chest.
“I’ve always been the one who holds things together,” I said quietly. “If I step away, even for a day, it feels like I’m letting everything fall.”
“Or,” he countered gently, “you’re giving yourself the chance not to break.”
I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat. “Where would we even go?”
That was the moment his expression slightly shifted. A small, crooked smile tugged at one corner of his mouth—the first real one I’d seen in days.
“Anywhere you want,” he said. “I heard you say in passing one time, most likely in your sleep that you'd like to see the Northern Isles. Or the vineyards in Portugal.” He shrugged faintly.
I chuckled softly at that.
“I don’t know. Just somewhere you can breathe again.” He added.
The images rose unbidden in my mind—cool air, open skies, no boardrooms, no surveillance, no ghosts of my father lurking behind my every decision. My chest ached with how badly I wanted it.
“And what happens while we’re gone?” I asked. “What if everything falls apart?”
He shrugged with nonchalance. “Then we’ll come back and fix it,” he said simply. “Together.”
I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his chest. His shirt was warm beneath my skin, and his heartbeat was steady and reassuring.
I closed my eyes and breathed him in as my shoulders loosened just a fraction. He immediately wrapped his arms around me my frame. The tension that had wrapped itself around me like a vise eased—only a little, but enough to remind me what relief felt like.