Chapter 029

***~Michelle~***

It had been a long day, and the office lights were dimming as I glanced at the clock on my desk. Half-past seven. Much later than usual.

Most of my colleagues had gone hours ago, their goodbyes echoing faintly through the building’s hallways. I had stayed, waiting—hoping for a response from Hughes. But I hadn't gotten even a text from him. So much for talking later.

After a few minutes, I decided to go home. There were a few staff that remained in the building. Jack was also gone. Well, Richard had come to pick him up.

Richard hadn't said as much as 'hi' before he went off, leaving me wondering if we had issues. Jack had blown me a kiss before he left.

The city was beautiful at night, and I took in everything as I drove home. I had no idea if Jaxon was home from the emergency the hospital had called.

I had a feeling I was being followed but shook it off since my alert bells hadn't exactly gone off, just a little tingling.

Unlocking my door, I had just decided to call it a night when a low voice broke through the stillness behind me.

"Michelle."

I froze, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. Turning slowly, I saw him—Jake. His face was covered by shadows. He still has his clothes from work.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice steady despite the fear coiling in my stomach.

Jake stepped closer, his gaze locked onto mine. "I’m here to get back what’s mine." He said and I raised a brow. “The sketches,” he added.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don’t owe you anything, Jake. Whatever you think you’re entitled to, you’re wrong."

“You think so?” he took a step forward and a shudder skittered down my spine.

Really? Was he resorting to this now?

“Jake, those designs are mine and we both know it. Stop acting like a self-entitled prick —which you are anyway,” I said, and his expression darkened, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

I took a step back instinctively, but before I could do more, his hand shot out, gripping my neck. His fingers were like iron, tightening with each second.

I clawed at his arm, my vision blurring as panic set in. My injured hand—still tender from the burn I’d gotten yesterday—throbbed uselessly at my side.

"Jake, stop! You're hurting me," I gasped, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Through the haze, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. A figure appeared in the doorway of Jaxon's apartment.

It took me a second to realize it was him. Disheveled hair and sleepy eyes. Relief flooded through me as our eyes met, and he stepped forward without hesitation.

"Hey!" Jaxon’s voice was firm and sharp. In one swift motion, he yanked Jake away from me and threw him aside like a rag doll. Jake stumbled, his face contorting in fury as he turned to face Jaxon.

Standing side by side, the difference between the two men was glaringly obvious. Jake was average in stature, his bravado now looking misplaced. Jaxon, on the other hand, was all broad shoulders and towering height. He didn’t just command space—he dominated it. Next to him, Jake seemed more like a petulant boy than a man.

Jaxon’s voice was calm but firm as he addressed Jake. "What’s going on here? Were you trying to hurt her?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stepped closer to Jaxon, knowing he'd protect me.

His eyes flickered down to me, scanning my body as though assessing for injuries. I knew the bruises forming on my neck would tell their own story, but I gave him a small nod to reassure him. I was okay—at least physically.

Jake’s sneer returned as he straightened, brushing dust from his jacket. "Stay out of this, man. This is between me and Michelle. I just want what’s mine."

Jaxon’s gaze sharpened, and he turned to me, his brow furrowing in question. I shook my head firmly. "I don’t owe him anything," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Jaxon didn’t hesitate. He squared his shoulders and took a step forward, his presence practically swallowing Jake whole. "You heard her. Leave. She doesn’t owe you a damn thing."

Jake hesitated, his eyes darting between us. Then, as if to regain the upper hand, he sneered, "What, is he the new guy? Is he who you’re screwing now, Michelle?"

The words hit me like a slap. My face burned with humiliation as Jake’s words hung in the air. I glanced at Jaxon, expecting him to look disgusted or amused, but his expression only hardened.

"Leave," Jaxon said, his tone icy. "Now. Or I’ll call security."

Jake’s bravado faltered, but not before he spat one last insult. "She’s not worth it, man. She’s a waste of time—a worn-out slut."

I flinched as the words landed, a bitter cocktail of anger and shame bubbling up inside me. To think that for a fleeting second, I'd thought he'd changed.

He was still that self-entitled and abusive dickhead.

When he was finally gone, silence settled in the hallway. I turned to Jaxon, my voice shaky but sincere.

"Thank you… for stepping in."

Jaxon opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance. I couldn’t. The weight of Jake’s words still lingered, and the last thing I wanted was to see pity in Jaxon’s eyes. Without another word, I slipped past him and into the safety of my apartment, locking the door behind me.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, my chest heaving as what just happened finally dawned on me. I pressed my fingers lightly against my neck, wincing at the tender marks Jake’s grip had left. The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, silent and hot against my cheeks.

Deep down, I couldn’t shake the echo of Jake’s words. "A waste of time. A worn-out slut."

Part of me knew they weren’t true—knew he was lashing out because he’d lost control. But the insidious part of me, knew he was right.

Maybe I just wasn't worth the time.