Eliana POV:

A week later, I stepped into a high-stakes poker game at a club on neutral territory.

The gash on my forehead, a souvenir from my "fall" down the Moretti staircase after Catalina grabbed me, was mostly hidden by my hair, but I could feel the three stitches pulling at my skin. It was a constant, tight reminder. A visible mark of dishonor.

I saw them immediately. Jax and Catalina, moving through the room as if they owned the place. His arm was draped possessively around her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip.

My friends, Chloe and Madison, both daughters of loyal Gallo soldiers, rushed to my side.

"Lia, what's going on?" Chloe whispered, her eyes huge with shock. "People are saying the betrothal is off. That can't be true. It would destabilize everything."

I took a slow, deliberate sip of my drink.

"It's true," I said, my voice betraying nothing. "People change."

Jax's eyes found mine across the crowded room. He must have seen my composure, because a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He leaned down and whispered something in Catalina's ear, and she let out a sharp, theatrical laugh.

He was trying to provoke me.

I ignored him. I turned to my friends and started talking about my plans for New York, about a life outside the suffocating grip of Chicago. I talked about classes and art galleries and a world where my last name meant nothing.

Later, during a high-stakes game, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. A dare was issued.

"Catalina," one of Jax's cousins slurred, "kiss the most powerful man in the room."

All eyes went to Jax.

Catalina looked directly at me, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Do you mind, Eliana?" she asked, her voice dripping with cloying, fake sweetness.

A cold smile touched my lips. "It has nothing to do with me."

Rage flashed in Jax's eyes. My indifference infuriated him more than any tears ever could.

He grabbed Catalina's face, his fingers tangling in her hair, and crushed his mouth to hers. It wasn't a kiss; it was a brutal statement.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked straight at me. His voice boomed across the silent room.

"She's a much better kisser than you ever were."

The humiliation was absolute, a public execution of my worth. The room erupted in whispers and muffled laughter.

I didn't flinch. I held his gaze for a long moment, letting him see the complete and utter emptiness in my eyes.

Then, I turned and walked out of the club, my dignity the only thing they couldn't take from me.

Eliana POV:

I found an empty back room, the bass from the club thrumming dully through the walls. I wouldn't let myself break. Not here.

My only goal was to get out of this city, to breathe air that wasn't tainted by his memory.

I braced myself, my hands flat on a cool, wooden table. I just needed to make it home.

As I walked down the quiet hallway toward the exit, I passed an adjacent room, the door slightly ajar. I heard his voice-Jax. He was talking to Mason, his second-in-command.

"She needed to be taught a lesson," Jax was saying, his tone smug. "She needs to remember who's in control."

My blood ran cold. I froze, flattening myself against the cool drywall, listening.

"So, what's the plan with the new girl?" Mason asked.

"Catalina?" Jax scoffed. "I'll keep her around long enough to make Ellie jealous. Give it a few weeks. She'll come crawling back, begging me to take her back. She always does."

The world tilted on its axis. My love, my pain, my heartbreak-it was all just a game to him. A tool to manipulate me, to keep me in my place.

The last vestiges of warmth in my soul turned to ash and blew away.

I slipped out of the club without a sound. I walked aimlessly through the dark Chicago streets, the city lights blurring through the unshed tears.

The "forever" he had promised me was a toxic lie, a cage I had willingly lived in. My devotion hadn't been love; it had become a dangerous obsession, and I had allowed him to exploit every part of it.

When I finally made it back to my family's estate, the wrought iron gates were closed. And standing in front of them, under the single dim lamp, was Jax.

He wasn't alone. He was intercepting a courier, and in his hand, he held a large manila envelope. My envelope.

The courier looked nervous. "Sir, my instructions are to deliver this directly to Miss Gallo."

Jax's smile was predatory. "I'll make sure she gets it."

My acceptance package. My travel documents for New York. My escape.

I strode forward, my heels clicking sharply on the pavement, never breaking my pace. I walked right up to him, snatched the documents from his hand, and turned to the stunned courier.

"Thank you," I said, my voice clear and steady as I signed the delivery confirmation myself. "I have it now."

Eliana POV:

I clutched the package to my chest. "From now on," I told the courier, my gaze locked with Jax's, "all my correspondence is to be delivered only to me. My emergency contacts are being updated."

Jax's confident smirk faltered, a flicker of confusion clouding his features.

"Did my documents arrive?" he asked. "The lease for our place near the university? In Chicago?"

"No," I said, keeping my voice perfectly even.

Before he could press me further, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor shifted. The suspicion in his eyes vanished, replaced by that infuriatingly tender concern. It was Catalina.

"I'll be right there," he said into the phone, his voice low and soothing.

Another manufactured emergency, another damsel in distress.

He ended the call and looked at me, his mind already across town with her. He'd already forgotten about the package, about our conversation.

He turned and walked to his car without another word, peeling out of the driveway to save her one more time.

I walked into my home, and for the first time in months, a profound sense of peace washed over me.

He had made his choice, over and over again. Now, I had finally made mine.

Days later, I started packing. I folded sweaters and stacked books, each item a small step toward my new life.

His retaliation was swift and public. He flooded social media with pictures of him and Catalina. A curated performance for the Outfit's younger generation. Jax and Catalina at a gala. Jax and Catalina on his boat. Jax and Catalina kissing under the city lights.

The comments were a fresh torrent of humiliation.

"He definitely upgraded."

"Guess the princess couldn't hold onto her prince."

"She's so much hotter than Lia."

I read each comment, not with the sharp sting of pain, but with a distant, heavy numbness. It was like watching a movie about someone else's life.

This was the final confirmation. My love for him wasn't just dead.

It was buried, and the ground had been salted, ensuring nothing would ever grow there again.