Chapter 70 The Cruel Truth
The sound of the glass shattering still rang in my ears.
“I’m not leaving,” he growled. “I will never leave you,” he said fiercely.
“Jack!” I shot back.
“I love you.” He said quietly.
The words hit me so hard I actually felt it in my chest, even my anger hesitated.
He took a step closer, his eyes now locked on mine. “I love you, Elena.”
My throat tightened painfully as I shook my head slowly. “No, you don’t,” I mumbled.
He froze. “Yes, I do.”
"You can't call this love, Jack...."
His face softened, the anger draining into something rawer.
“I was wrong,” he said quietly. “About how I handled things, about keeping you in the dark. I was wrong.”
“But I love you, I fell in love with you—” he repeated, softer now. “That’s the only reason I did any of this.”
“If this is your version of love,” I said, my voice trembling, “then I don’t want it.”
His expression cracked. “I am trying to keep you alive,” he said. “Your father sent Marcus Trent, that alone wasn’t a scare tactic, it was real.”
Then he ran both hands through his hair, pacing once like he was trying to gather himself. “I should have told you about Richard,” he admitted. “I should have told you everything, especially about the partnership talks."
“Yes,” I said quietly. “You should have.”
“But I was afraid of losing you.” He stepped closer again. “I fell in love with you somewhere between the negotiations and working with you,” he said with a tilt of his head. “It stopped being about strategy and power for a while."
“Then why does it still feel like a game?” I whispered.
“It’s not a game.”
“It feels like one,” I shot back. “And I was the only one who didn’t know the rules.”
He reached out like he wanted to touch me, then stopped himself.
“I love you,” he said again, more quietly. “I don’t know how to make you believe that.”
Maybe love is actually a straight ticket for ruin.
I shook my head. “I regret it.”
He blinked. “Regret what?”
“I regret getting involved with you in the first place.” It felt like swallowing glass to say it.
But I forced myself to keep going. “I regret proposing that contract, regret letting it turn into something real and for trusting you with parts of me I don’t just give to anyone.”
His face drained of color. “You don’t get to erase us,” he said hoarsely.
“I’m not erasing anything,” I replied. “I’m ending it.”
“I won’t accept that.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I love you,” he said again, like repetition would make it stick.
“And I loved you,” I whispered back.
“You still do,” he said immediately and I hesitated and that stupid hesitation betrayed me.
His eyes caught it but I forced myself to shake my head again.
“No,” I said, even though my voice was smaller now. “Whatever I felt doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Why are you pushing me away?” he demanded.
“Because I don’t feel safe with you anymore!” I burst out.
And I don't trust you to not break my heart all over again.
I sucked in breath. “I won't stay here and beg you to walk out,” I said, my voice trembling but determined. “If you don’t want to leave, then I will.”
His eyes flashed. “Elena—”
“I mean it.”
I stepped around him as my shoulder brushed his arm. Even that small contact sent a spark through me.
“Elena, don’t do this,” he said behind me.
“I’m done arguing,” I replied, reaching for the door handle.
I barely touched it before his hand wrapped around my wrist.
“Jack—”
He pulled me back, and the next second my back hit the wall with a soft thud.
He caged me there, one hand on my waist, the other braced against the wall beside my head. His body was so close to his.
“Let me go,” I whispered.
“No,” he breathed. “I can’t let you walk away like that,” he said, his voice rough, almost breaking. “Not when everything in me is screaming not to.”
His breath fanned across my face, warm and uneven. I could smell the faint bitterness of the wine he hadn’t finished.
“Please,” he murmured, softer now. “Just… don’t go.”
My heart pounded so hard I thought he could feel it.
“I’m so tired, Elena,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible. “Tired of fighting with you.”
His fingers tightened slightly at my waist.
“I love you,” he said again, but this time it wasn’t fierce or desperate. It was worn down and stripped bare.
I closed my eyes. “Jack…”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed.
“You already did,” I breathed.
He made a small, broken sound at that. Then the tension in his arms changed and his weight leaned heavier against me.
“Jack?” I frowned softly.
He didn’t respond.
“Jack?”
His grip loosened and suddenly his body sagged forward.
My eyes flew open just as his full weight collapsed against me. “Jack!”
I grabbed onto him instinctively, my hands sliding around his back to keep him from hitting the floor. His head fell against my shoulder, his body going limp in a way that terrified me.
“Jack, wake up,” I said urgently, trying to adjust my footing so we don't fall.
Then I heard his breathing and relief flooded me so fast it almost made me dizzy.
“God, you idiot,” I whispered shakily, tightening my hold on him.
I pressed my face into his shoulder for just a second as I clasped my eyes shut.
Why did it have to feel like this?
Why did loving him feel like trying to hold water in my hands?
“Oh, Jack…” I sobbed softly, my fingers curling into his shirt. “I love you too, so much.”
“Hell, love you more,” I repeated, quieter now, my tears soaking into the fabric at his shoulder. “But this… this isn’t how we'll both survive.”
His unconscious weight pressed into me.
“But if we remain like this,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “we’ll both destroy each other.”
“So, this has to end,” I breathed against his skin. “For both of us to live.”
And that was the cruel truth.