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Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir Novel Cover

Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir

"She’s just like a sister to me, Eliana. You’re being dramatic." That was Jax’s excuse every time he chose Catalina over me for three years. When Catalina staged a fake drowning in three feet of water, he pushed me aside to save her, telling me my life wasn't his problem. But the breaking point came when she deliberately pushed me down a flight of stairs. My ankle shattered on the concrete. I was lying there in agony, unable to move. Yet, Jax didn't check on me. He stepped over my bleeding body to scoop Catalina up because she had a minor scratch on her elbow. He screamed at me for "hurting" her. While I lay in the hospital alone, waiting for surgery, he was spoon-feeding her soup in her dorm, posting photos captioned "My Hero." He thought I would always be his "Elie Bear," the doormat waiting at home to clean up his messes. He was convinced that no matter how much he hurt me, I would never actually leave. But he was wrong. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply signed the withdrawal papers, blocked his number, and boarded a one-way flight to New York without saying goodbye. Three months later, when Jax finally realized his "sister" was a nightmare and came crawling back to beg for forgiveness, he found me. But I wasn't alone. I was holding the hand of a billionaire heir who looked at Jax with cold, deadly eyes. "Touch her again," my new fiancé whispered, "and I will destroy your entire family by morning."
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Chapter 7

The campus was buzzing with the news. _Jax the Hero. Jax the Legend._

He had retrieved the bracelet. In the process, he had also dislocated his shoulder and required six stitches in his leg after colliding with a submerged rock.

I sat on the edge of my bed in the dorms, staring down into the open suitcase. My flight to New York was booked for tomorrow morning.

One way.

A knock sounded at the door.

I knew who it was before I even turned the handle. The heavy, uneven footsteps gave him away.

Jax stood there, his arm in a sling, a stark white bandage plastered across his forehead. He looked like a war hero. He looked exhausted.

"You're hard to find," he said, leaning heavily against the doorframe for effect. "You weren't at the hospital."

"I was busy," I said flatly.

He limped into the room, uninvited. He placed a small, sleek white box on my desk. It was the latest iPhone.

"I got you this," he said. "Mason said your battery was dying. I thought... you know, since I haven't been around much."

It was a bribe. A shiny, expensive bribe meant to mask the stench of blood and betrayal.

"I don't need a phone, Jax."

"Just take it, Eliana. Please." He sounded desperate. "I want you to have nice things."

I picked up the box. It felt heavy, like a brick.

"Thanks."

He sat on my bed, wincing theatrically as his leg shifted. "So, the doctor said I need to rest for a few weeks. No football. I was thinking we could finally watch that movie series you like. Just lay in bed, order pizza. Like old times."

He was trying to reset the game. He thought if he pressed the right combination of buttons, I would reboot to the previous version of Eliana—the one who fetched him ice packs and kissed his bruises.

"I can't," I said.

"Why? You have class?"

"I'm sick," I lied. The words came easily now, smooth and practiced. "It's a stomach bug. Contagious."

He frowned, looking at me with those dark, soulful eyes that used to make my knees weak. Now, they just looked empty.

"You're always sick lately," he muttered. "You need to take better vitamins."

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

He stood up, awkwardly maneuvering his injured body.

"Well, I better go. Cat is... she's freaking out about the stitches. She faints at the sight of blood, you know. I need to go calm her down."

"Of course," I said. "Go."

He paused at the door, hand on the frame.

"You're not mad about the jump, are you? I had to do it, El. It was her grandmother's bracelet."

It wasn't.

It was a Pandora charm she had bought at the mall last week. I knew because I had the receipt wadded up in my trash can from when I’d helped her clean out her bag.

"I'm not mad, Jax," I said. And I meant it. Anger requires investment. I was bankrupt.

"Good," he smiled, offering a relieved, boyish grin. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

He left.

I waited until I heard his footsteps fade down the hall, swallowed by the distance. Then, I picked up the iPhone box and dropped it into the donation bin I had set aside for the dorm charity drive.

I pulled my suitcase zipper shut.

The sound was sharp. Final.

He thought he had won a victory. He didn't realize he was standing in a graveyard.

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