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.

Eliana POV:

On my last day in Chicago, I returned to the academy to collect my final records. It was a formality, a loose end I needed to tie before I disappeared.

The campus was hushed, suspended in the lull between semesters.

I saw him near the old stone archway-the one where we'd once hidden during a sudden downpour years ago, his jacket wrapped around my shoulders.

He was taking pictures of Catalina.

She posed and preened while he directed her, his voice patient, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He'd always hated having his picture taken, swatting my phone away whenever I tried to capture a moment. Now, he was a devoted photographer for her.

I remembered standing in that exact spot with him four years ago, our futures stretching out before us like an endless, sunlit road. A future that now belonged to her.

I turned away, my footsteps making no sound on the grass, and walked toward the edge of the campus, where Gallo territory bled into Moretti land.

The old oak tree stood there, its branches heavy with the weight of decades.

I found our carving. A lopsided heart with 'J.M. + E.G.' carved within.

A promise made by two kids who thought they knew what forever meant.

I pulled the key to my old locker from my pocket. The metal felt cold against my palm. I pressed the sharp edge into the bark, right over my initial.

I scraped and clawed at the wood, digging until my own initial was nothing but a jagged, ugly scar. The pact was nullified. The promise, void.

"What are you doing over here?"

His voice. I didn't turn around. I heard their footsteps approaching, the crunch of dry leaves under their feet.

Catalina's voice was cloyingly sweet. "Jax, look. We should carve our initials."

I heard the whisper-slide of a knife being drawn from its sheath. Then, the rhythmic sound of metal cutting into wood. He was overwriting our history, carving her name over the space where mine used to be.

I dropped my key. It landed in the dirt with a soft thud.

"Looks like you lost something," Catalina called out, her voice laced with triumph. She bent down and picked up the key, dangling it from her fingertips. "You've lost everything."

Something inside me snapped. A primal, white-hot rage I didn't know I was still capable of.

I lunged forward and shoved her. Hard.

She stumbled backward, her arms flailing. Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. Her momentum pulled me with her.

We crashed through the surface of the lake together.

The icy water was a shock, a brutal slap that knocked the air from my lungs. My clothes became a lead weight, dragging me down into the murky darkness. I kicked, fighting my way back to the surface, gasping for air.

My eyes found Jax on the bank. He was already moving.

He dove into the water, his powerful strokes cutting through the surface. He was swimming right for me.

For a single, stupid second, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Then he swam past me.

He swam right past my gasping, struggling body to reach Catalina, who was staging a theatrical performance of drowning a few feet away.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her head above the water.

One of his men on the shore started forward, his eyes on me.

Jax's voice sliced through the cold air. It wasn't directed at me. It was an order.

"Her life is no longer my problem."