Chapter 68 Stubborn Forces
Elena's POV
“Mark… can you give me a minute?” I sounded hollow.
He stood beside me, hands in his pockets, the wind tugging at his jacket. The cemetery was too quiet like the world had decided to be respectful while mine fell apart.
“Elena,” he started gently, “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“I need to be,” I said, not looking at him. “Please.”
I could feel his eyes on me before he exhaled.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right over there by the car.”
I watched him walk away from the corner of my eye and when he was finally far enough, I stepped closer to the glass enclosure.
My mother's ashes sat inside, preserved and dignified unlike everything else in my life.
My fingers trembled as I raised them and pressed both palms flat against the cold surface.
The chill seeped straight into my skin.
“Hi, Mom,” I whispered, and that was all it took for my throat to tighten.
My shoulders shook, so I pressed harder against the glass like I could somehow feel her through it.
“This isn’t fair,” I choked out. “It’s not fair.”
Then tears blurred my vision.
“I did everything right,” I sobbed. “I listened, endured—I fought, I carried the company like you wanted me to. I even married Jack Roman like it was supposed to help.”
My voice cracked at that.
Even thinking his name felt like pressing on a bruise. “I hate him,” I whispered.
But the words tasted like a lie as I squeezed my eyes shut, my forehead rested against the glass.
“Why do I still love him?” My voice broke into something smaller. “Why does it still hurt like this?”
I slid one hand down, my fingers curling against the edge of the case.
“He stood there,” I murmured. “He stood there across that table and let them take everything from me.”
The memory hit hard. “I looked at him,” I whispered, my breath fogging the glass. “I was waiting for him to say something, anything but he didn't.”
He betrayed me.
I dragged my nails lightly against the surface, the faint screeching sound was almost satisfying.
“I would have understood,” I cried. “If he had just told me. If he had trusted me.”
My hands flattened against the glass again, harder now. “But he lied,” I whispered. “He’s been deceiving me.”
A broken sound escaped me — half laugh, half sob. “And I hate that I still love him.”
I slid down slightly until my forehead pressed harder against the cold surface.
“What kind of fool does that make me, Mom?” I asked weakly.
The wind picked up, brushing my hair across my face. “Was this what you meant?” I muttered. “When you said I had to be strong because of who my father is?”
My chest ached. “I’m so tired,” I whispered. “I’m tired of being strong.”
The sob that followed ripped through me. So
I scratched at the glass without thinking — fingers dragging, nails scraping, as if I could reach her.
“I swear it’s not fair!” I cried.
My hand slid down, leaving faint streaks where my tears had fallen.
“I loved him,” I whispered hoarsely. “So much that I didn’t even realize when it stopped being a contract.”
That was the worst part, and still, he chose to hurt me.
I snifled as I clasped my eyes shut.
But eventually, the storm inside me slowed down because I didn't have the strength left to keep crying.
So I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, then used my sleeve to clean the fog I’d left on the glass.
“But I’ll be fine, mom.” I murmured weakly. “I always am.”
Even though It sounded pathetic, I needed to say it. Then I took one last look at the ashes.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered before I stepped back.
The walk toward the car felt longer than before.
Mark was leaning against it with arms crossed, watching the sky like he hadn’t been counting every second I was gone.
When he noticed me approaching, he straightened immediately.
His eyes moved over my face — red eyes, swollen lids, tear-streaked cheeks I hadn’t fully managed to compose.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?” I asked flatly.
“For everything,” he replied. “For my father, the meeting, and for not being able to stop it.”
Why was he trying to act concerned?
I held his gaze for a long moment. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” I said finally.
“But I do,” he insisted. “He’s still my father.”
“And he’s still mine,” I replied softly.
That shut him up.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know it would go that far.”
I believed him but it still didn’t change anything.
“It already did,” I said.
A beat passed.
“Do you hate me too?” he asked, the question quieter than I expected.
I shook my head slowly.
“No,” I said. “I don’t have the energy to hate you right now.”
His expression shifted. “I should’ve protected you,” he muttered.
I almost laughed.
“From Conrad?” I asked. “Or from Jack? Don't try to act like a sweet stepbrother.”
His eyes flickered. “Both, and I'm not acting.”
I looked away first.
“I don’t need protecting,” I said automatically.
“You’re shaking,” he replied gently.
I hadn’t even noticed.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Can we just go?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Home?”
“Yes,” I said after a beat. “Drop me home.”
He opened the passenger door for me without another word.
The drive back was suffocating.
When the car finally slowed in front of my penthouse building, I didn’t move immediately.
“We’re here,” Mark said quietly.
“I can see that,” I replied.
The engine idled for a second longer.
“Elena—”
“Thank you,” I cut in dryly. Then I added, with a sharp edge, “Truly, that was a lovely family outing.”
He flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“Nothing is,” I said flatly as I reached for the door handle.
“Elena, just—”
“Stay away from me,” I said without looking at him. “Both of you.”
His breath caught slightly. “I’m not him.”
“I know,” I replied. “But you’re still a part of it.”
Before he could respond, I stepped out of the car and shut the door firmly behind me and didn’t look back.
The elevator ride up felt longer than usual and when the doors slid open to my floor, I immediately noticed that my door was slightly ajar.
I froze mid-step but then I moved closer.
“Hello?” I called out.
No response.
So I pushed the door open wider and stopped. The living room looked like a storm had passed through it.
A chair tipped over, a lamp shattered on the floor, and a cracked picture frame.
“What the—”
That was when I saw Jack standing near the bar counter with a glass of wine in his hand.
His tie was loosened, his shirt slightly wrinkled and his hair was disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.
He glanced up at me slowly and my shock turned to fury almost instantly.
“What are you doing in my house?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer right away, he just stared at me. I noticed that there was something off about him—his eyes were glassy and his movements were slightly delayed.
Then I watched him take a slow sip from the wine.
“Jack,” I snapped, stepping further inside. “What are you doing here?”
The silence made my skin crawl.
“Get out,” I said sharply. “Right now.”
His gaze finally sharpened slightly.
“You can’t stay here,” he said.
I blinked at him confused.
“Excuse me? I said get out,” I repeated, my voice rising. “You don’t get to show up in my house after everything and stand there like you own the place.”
He set the glass down slowly. “Elena...” he said. “You need to leave.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “I need to leave?”
“It’s not safe here,” he said.
The audacity.
“You shouldn't talk to me about safety,” I shot back. “You can't tell me what to do in my own home.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Just pack a bag.”
“Are you insane?” I demanded.
But he took a step toward me. “I’m serious.”
I instinctively stepped back. “Stay where you are.”
“Elena, listen to me.”
“I’m done listening to you!”
My voice echoed against the disordered walls. “You lost that privilege, don't you agree?”
His jaw tightened. “This isn’t about us.”
“Everything is about us,” I snapped. “You stood in that room and helped them take everything from me.”
“I only did that to protect you!”
“Stop saying that!” I shouted. “You shouldn't twist betrayal and make it look like protection!”
He looked frustrated. “I came here because someone broke in,” he said.
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“There was a man here,” he continued. “Marcus Trent.”
The name made my pulse spike.
“What are you talking about?” I asked quietly.
“He was in your bedroom,” Jack said. “He threw a knife at me.”
My breath caught in my throat.
But I forced myself not to react too strongly.
“You expect me to believe that?” I said.
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Why? You think I trashed the place for fun?”
I glanced around again, it didn't look staged but still—
“You’re drunk,” I said coldly.
“I’m not drunk.”
“You’re holding wine in my living room like you’re waiting for me.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“I just know I’m not leaving you here,” he said firmly.
“Watch me,” I replied.
I moved toward the hallway, but he stepped in front of me.
“Move...”
“No.”
“Jack.”
“Elena, please.”
“Don’t ‘please’ me.”
He stepped closer and I could smell the alcohol faintly now. “You’re coming with me,” he said quietly.
“Absolutely not.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“And you don’t understand that I don’t trust you.”
He flinched slightly. “I won’t leave until you walk out of here with me,” he said.
Then something inside me snapped.
“You don’t get to tell me what to fucking do!” I yelled. “You lost that right the second you chose that seat at the table.”
“This isn’t even about the company!”
“It’s always about the company with you!” I seethed.
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I’m only trying to keep you alive.”
“I don’t need you to save me!” I shouted back.
Our argument felt like a collision — words crashing, emotions spilling over.
“You think I wanted that partnership?” he demanded.
“But you accepted it!”
“You think I enjoyed watching them vote you out?”
“You didn’t stop them!”
“Because I couldn’t!”
“You didn’t want to!”
His eyes flashed. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I let out a sharp laugh. “You want to talk about fair?”
My chest was rising and falling rapidly now.
“You lied to me,” I said, voice trembling. “You stood there and said nothing.”
He stepped closer again.
“I did it for you.”
“Stop saying that!” I screamed.
Silence crashed down between us for a split second. “And I'm not going anywhere with you, you just need to leave.” I said more quietly.
“I’m not leaving,” he mumbled.
“Then I’ll call security.”
“Do it.”
We stared at each other like two stubborn forces refusing to bend.
“You need to stay the hell away from me,” I said through clenched teeth but he didn't back down.