The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine Chapter 158: Father-In-Law Desires

Ella’s POV

Okay, I know it was awful of to donate half of LJB’s resources, but I needed to unleash my anger sohow. That was the first idea that popped into my head. Did I think it through? No. Did I care? Not one bit. I wanted to hurt Jason. Badly. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the betrayal, humiliation, and rage that were currently eating alive.

I clenched my fists as the mory of him resurfaced—his smug smile, his fake charm, his I care about you act. God, I wish I could punch him. No, knee him. Sothing. Anything to get rid of this seething fury and disgust that made my skin crawl every ti I thought about him.

And the worst part? I’d believed him. That motherfucker had tricked . My stupid heart had even done those weird fluttery things whenever he looked at , said sothing sweet, or gave that damn smirk. I’d almost liked him. Stupid, stupid Ella. How could I have been so foolish? To believe he had changed? That he actually cared?

It was all a lie. A bet. He hadn’t changed. He’d only pretended to, just to win the stupid bet. And to make matters worse, I married him. I actually stood there in front of everyone and said "I do" to that liar.

So much for my father finding a "perfect candidate." Perfect? My foot. He couldn’t have been more wrong if he’d tried.

Jason had the audacity to try and talk to last night, claiming it was all a long ti ago. As if that made it better. As if the knife he’d driven into my back would magically disappear because oh, it happened ages ago. What kind of idiot did he think I was?

And Amber. That snake. She’d made sure to twist the knife even deeper, sending the audio of their little plan. Jason might have pretended to be a changed man, but he’d been the mastermind behind the whole thing. Her petty revenge had turned what I thought would be a tolerable arrangent—a marriage based on friendship—into a full-blown war zone.

So, yeah. Last night, after slamming the door in Jason’s face, I let my anger take over. I grabbed my laptop, hacked into his precious LJB company, and donated half of their resources to a charity group. Why? Because I didn’t need his stupid money. I didn’t want anything from him. And honestly? I figured if his father-in-law—my father—found out that Jason had used the company’s resources so recklessly, it would make him look incompetent. Maybe even convince my father that he’d misjudged Jason completely.

I’d just wanted him to suffer. To feel the sting of loss. And when the dust settled, maybe he’d realize that he shouldn’t have ssed with .

In the morning, I stord down the stairs, my anger simring just below the surface, though the little satisfaction from last night’s "charity work" kept my mood slightly buoyant. Jason was surely panicking by now. No way could he ignore that half his company’s resources had mysteriously vanished overnight. He’d be too busy trying to save his reputation to bother , or so I thought.

But no. There he was, standing in the kitchen like he hadn’t a care in the world, flipping pancakes. Pancakes. As if we were a happy couple in so cheesy rom-com. The nerve.

The sll of the food hit my nose, but instead of hunger, it triggered annoyance. "You’re still here?" I asked sharply, crossing my arms.

Jason looked up, visibly startled, but quickly covered it with his usual calm façade. "Good morning to you too, wife," he said, turning back to the stove. "I thought I’d make us breakfast."

I glared at him. "Don’t bother. I’m not hungry."

He sighed, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly. "Ella, I thought we could at least try to talk—"

"Talk?" I cut him off with a humorless laugh. "Jason, there’s nothing to talk about. Just stick to your side of this farce of a marriage and leave alone."

He opened his mouth, probably to spew so excuse or apology, but I was done listening. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed for the front door. I didn’t need his fake concern or his stupid pancakes. I’d grab sothing elsewhere.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

I barely had the door open when I ca face-to-face with my father, his expression a mix of warmth and curiosity. Great. Just what I needed.

"Ella, darling!" he exclaid, stepping forward to embrace . "How’s the blushing bride this morning?"

I forced a smile, my irritation doubling. "Father," I said sweetly, stepping back. "What a... surprise."

His gaze flickered past , no doubt spotting Jason in the kitchen. "I thought I’d drop by to see how my daughter and son-in-law are settling in."

Settling in? Oh, we were settling in, all right—straight into a living hell.

"Everything’s fine," I said quickly, trying to usher him out before he could step inside.

But he wasn’t having it. "Nonsense. I want to see your new ho. After all, I did help set it up for you."

Before I could protest, he was already moving past , calling out to Jason. "Jason, my boy!"

Jason turned, his expression shifting from surprise to practiced charm. "Mr. Kingsley! Good morning. Would you like so coffee?"

I bit back a groan as my father bead at him. "Don’t mind if I do." He took a seat at the kitchen island, clearly settling in for a chat. Of course he was staying.

I clenched my fists, plastering on my most convincing smile as I joined them. Jason shot a glance, one that looked almost like a plea for truce, but I ignored it. Let him squirm. He deserved every ounce of discomfort.

As the two n exchanged pleasantries, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I’d have to keep up this charade. Between Jason’s betrayal and my father’s ddling, it was going to be a very, very long day.

So, yeah, I ended up eating Jason’s breakfast. Not because I wanted to, mind you, but because my father had already started digging in and giving those I raised you better than to waste food eyes. And, damn it, the pancakes weren’t bad. Actually, they were really good. Light, fluffy, just the right amount of sweetness. But there was no way I was going to let my face betray . Nope. I chewed, swallowed, and maintained the most neutral expression I could muster, even as my taste buds scread at to admit defeat.

My father, on the other hand, had no such restraint. "These are excellent, Jason!" he said between bites, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "See, Ella? Didn’t I tell you he was a good man? He even cooks for you! Now I can rest assured that my daughter is in good hands."

Jason, the idiot, actually bead at the praise, like a golden retriever who’d just been told he was a good boy. His chest puffed up slightly, and I could see the beginnings of a smug grin creeping onto his face. But then he glanced at . And just like that, the grin vanished, replaced by a look of wary caution.

Good. He should be scared.

I deliberately set my fork down and leaned back in my chair, fixing him with an unreadable gaze. Jason shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening slightly around his glass. He was practically sweating bullets, his eyes darting to my father and then back to , as if silently pleading, Please don’t say anything.

The power in that mont was intoxicating. I could have said anything. I could have exposed him right then and there, told my father about the bet, and watched Jason’s world crumble in real ti. But I didn’t. Not yet. No, I was having too much fun watching him squirm.

"Ella," my father prompted, "aren’t you going to say sothing?"

I blinked innocently. "About what?"

"The breakfast," he said, gesturing to my half-empty plate. "Don’t you think it’s good?"

Jason held his breath. I let the silence stretch for a mont, just long enough to make him visibly uncomfortable, before finally responding.

"It’s... edible," I said coolly, picking up my glass and taking a slow sip of water.

Jason exhaled, his relief palpable. My father chuckled and shook his head, clearly amused by my nonchalance. "Well, I think it’s excellent," he declared, finishing his plate with gusto.

Jason glanced at again, clearly trying to gauge my mood. I smirked slightly, just enough to let him know I was enjoying his discomfort.

Good. Let him sweat. This was only the beginning.

I was mid-sip of my coffee, basking in the satisfaction of watching Jason squirm under my icy deanor, when my father dropped a bombshell that almost made choke.

"I’ve decided to announce you as the CEO of Kingsley Enterprises at the next board eting," he said, casually cutting into his second pancake.

My cup froze halfway to my lips. "What?"

"It’s ti," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argunt. "You’ve worked hard for this, Ella, you have also kept you part of the deal and I think you’re ready. The board eting is in three days, so prepare yourself. You’ll need to impress them."

The weight of his words began to sink in, and for a brief mont, I felt a surge of pride. This was what I’d been working toward, the goal that had kept tethered to this farce of a marriage. But before I could fully process it, my father threw another curveball.

"Of course," he added, looking between and Jason, "I expect you to ask for help if things get tough. From or Jason. Don’t try to do everything on your own, Ella."

Jason sat up a little straighter, clearly thrilled by the prospect of being included in anything. I, however, was not. I didn’t need help. I didn’t want help. And I especially didn’t want his help.

But none of that prepared for what ca next.

"Also," my father continued, his tone now carrying a note of casual amusent that instantly put on edge, "I’ve decided that once you give a grandchild, I’ll make you the permanent owner of the entire Kingsley empire."

I choked. The coffee I’d just sipped burned the back of my throat as I coughed violently, barely managing to set the cup down before I spilled it. "Excuse ?" I croaked, my voice hoarse.

Jason’s eyes widened, his fork clattering onto his plate as he looked between and my father like he’d just stepped into a minefield.

"You heard ," my father said, unfazed by my reaction. "I’m not getting any younger, Ella. I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I’m still around. And you two are married now, so there’s no reason to delay. Consider it a little motivation to... get busy."

I stared at him, utterly mortified, while Jason seed frozen in place, his expression a mixture of shock and panic.

"Oh, and I do hope your wedding night yielded so fruit," my father added with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusent. "It’s about ti I start seeing so results."

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even look at Jason. The smug bastard didn’t need any ammunition to lord over , and now my father had practically handed him a grenade.

Jason coughed awkwardly, his face flushed. "Uh, well, sir, that’s—"

"Don’t worry, Jason," my father interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder. "I have faith in you. I’m sure you two will figure it out."

I wanted the ground to swallow whole. Instead, I glared daggers at Jason, silently daring him to say a single word. If he so much as smirked, I would throw my coffee at him.

For once, he seed to understand the danger and wisely kept his mouth shut.