JASON’S POV
I spotted Max and Dylan across the room, their usual carefree selves now awkwardly hanging back, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Smart move.
Their eyes flicked over to , and I could see the unspoken question hanging between us: Is this really Ella? The sa Ella we all knew, the one who used to be sarcastic, playful, but sohow always had that fire in her eyes. Was that version of her gone for good? Had she ca back.
I didn’t need to say anything. I just shook my head.
Max frowned slightly, and Dylan’s lips tightened as if they knew exactly what I ant. This wasn’t the Ella we used to joke around with. This was... sothing else. Sothing cold, calculating, and more than a little dangerous.
And as I stood there, pretending to be her perfect husband in front of the caras, I realized sothing I couldn’t escape:
I didn’t just marry a woman. I married a force of nature. A nature I had underimasted.
A force that was slowly grinding down, one smile, one kiss, one damn look at a ti.
At least not everyone was oblivious to my misery. Max and Dylan—the two people who probably knew better than anyone else in this ssed-up situation—were casting these apologetic glances. It was clear as day that they pitied . Hell, I could practically hear their internal monologues screaming "You poor bastard."
I rembered back to when I first agreed to this insane marriage contract. Back then, I was so naïve, so convinced that everything would turn out okay. I had convinced myself that it was all just a matter of ti—ti to win Ella’s heart, ti to prove that I could change, that I wasn’t the sa guy I was when the bet started. My head was full of plans, daydreams, fantasies... and yeah, probably so overblown confidence that I’d be able to break through her walls.
But now?
I just wanted the year to end.
Not because I didn’t love her—I still did, more than I had ever thought possible—but because what I was living through? This wasn’t the dream I had envisioned. Not by a long shot. The woman I thought I’d married, the one I could have a future with, was now so twisted version of herself, barely recognizable. She was karma incarnate, holding grudges like she was collecting them in a jar and using them to break down piece by piece.
I couldn’t deny it—I loved her, but this was beyond what I ever imagined I’d face. The coldness, the resentnt... It was like living in a constant storm, and I had no idea how to weather it.
Hell, at this point, I wouldn’t wish this situation on my worst enemy.
Every ti I glanced at Ella, all I could think was: What the hell happened?
The way she looked at now—cold, calculating, like she was always five steps ahead and I was just so pawn in her ga—it was enough to make want to crawl out of my own skin. At the event, she was the perfect wife, the one I had dread of—sweet, gentle, and full of charm. She made believe, just for a mont, that maybe, just maybe, this could all work out. But the mont I looked into her eyes, I knew better.
That wasn’t Ella. That was a version of her I didn’t recognize, the one built on bitterness, and spite, and resentnt. She was playing a role, a character in so twisted drama, and I was the unwilling audience.
I thought back to the kiss we had shared for the caras. It was supposed to be romantic, sweet, a way to seal the deal in front of everyone. But it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt like I was signing my soul away to so devil, a woman who had trapped in her web, and I was too far gone to escape. The way she pulled in, her lips soft but her touch ice cold—it was like she was marking , reminding that no matter how much I loved her, she would never forgive for what I had done.
I was starting to feel like a puppet on strings, a prop in her perfect little world, where nothing was as it seed.
I looked at Max and Dylan, who were still hanging around the edges of the event. They exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of this new version of Ella. I could see the pity in their eyes, even though they were trying to hide it. They knew what this was—knew what I was walking through. I gave them a quick shake of my head. They didn’t get it, not really. They didn’t know the tornt I was going through, the internal battle between loving the woman in front of and despising what she had beco.
It was a ga to her. A ga of power, control, and payback.
And ? I was just another pawn on her board.
The worst part? I still loved her. I couldn’t help it. No matter how she treated , no matter how hard she pushed away, it didn’t change the way I felt. I still cared for her, still wanted to make it work.
But she wasn’t the sa Ella I had married.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile for the caras, playing my part in this charade. Smile, Jason. Just smile. It’s all for the show.
As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but notice Ella’s behavior shifting. The more she sipped on her wine, the more I saw her walls coming down—or maybe I should say, crumbling. I knew she was getting a little tipsy, and that’s when my mind started spiraling.
She was already walking on thin ice with , but now? If she kept going down this road, I was terrified she’d spill everything. I could already see it—the scandal, the ruin. My blood ran cold just thinking about it.
She wasn’t just drinking for fun, either. The way she was tossing back glasses like they were water—it was like she was trying to forget sothing. Or maybe, soone. But in the back of my mind, I was screaming at her to stop, because the last thing I needed was for her to lose control and start talking. I didn’t need her blurting out to the world that our marriage was a damn contract. Or worse, the bet.
My heart raced as I thought about Mr. Kingsley. God, if he found out... I was done for. No, we were done for. My entire world, my reputation, everything I had worked for—it would co crashing down. I couldn’t let her tell anyone.
The idea of him finding out was enough to make break into a cold sweat. I knew how much he loved his daughter, how far he would go to protect her. But what would he do if he learned that I had made a bet on her, that everything between us was nothing but a ga to begin with? Not to ntion the fact that our marriage had been built on a contract that I had secretly hoped would turn into sothing real... eventually.
I saw her laugh at sothing her father said, but the way her head tilted, the slightly glazed look in her eyes—it only made my anxiety worsen. She wasn’t in control anymore, and I was scared to think about what would happen if she wasn’t careful.
I had to stop this.
I can’t let this go on.
The last thing I wanted was for Mr. Kingsley to show up in the middle of a crisis, especially when he was already suspicious of and this whole situation. If he found out the truth, he wouldn’t just disown . He’d ruin .
I quickly moved to Ella’s side, trying to be casual but stern.
"Ella, maybe you should slow down with the wine," I suggested, my voice low enough to keep the conversation between us.
She turned to look at with a soft smile, her eyes still a little distant. "Oh, Jason. Stop being such a buzzkill. It’s just wine," she said, waving off.
But I wasn’t having it. My nerves were shot, and I couldn’t take the risk of her blurting out sothing stupid in front of everyone.
"Ella, seriously," I said again, my hand gently reaching for her glass. "You’ve had enough for tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at , clearly amused. But behind that amusent, there was sothing dangerous in her gaze.
"Are you trying to control now, Jason?" she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
That tone sent a chill down my spine. The last thing I needed right now was to get into a fight with her in front of all these people, especially with her tipsy. If this turned into sothing bigger, there was no way to clean it up.
I forced myself to smile. "Just looking out for you. You know, husband duties," I said, hoping to play it cool.
But deep down, I was panicking. The more she drank, the more she seed like a ticking ti bomb. She was angry, and when she got angry, who knew what she might do or say. I wasn’t even sure I could talk her down.
She didn’t answer right away, and for a second, I thought she might push away. But instead, she took a long sip of the wine, finishing the glass, and then set it down with a deliberate clink.
"Fine, Jason," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her gaze was sharp. "You win. I’ll stop drinking. Happy now?"
I nodded, relieved that the worst hadn’t happened yet. "Thanks," I muttered, although I wasn’t sure whether she was playing or actually listening to .
She gave a quick, almost mischievous smile. "I don’t know what you’re so worried about. I’m not going to make a scene. Not yet, anyway."
That didn’t help my nerves one bit. My pulse was still racing.
"Ella, please—"
But before I could say anything else, she leaned over to kiss my cheek, her lips brushing against my skin in an almost affectionate gesture. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if she was just playing another role, but either way, my stomach twisted.
I had to stay focused.
"Just—just rember what’s at stake here," I said quietly, trying to steer her away from the wine and the drama that seed to be brewing between us.
Her smile faded for a mont as she looked dead in the eyes, the humor gone and replaced with a coldness that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Trust , Jason. I know exactly what’s at stake."
And for the first ti that night, I believed her.
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