Alexandra Hoffman POV:
Jaxon didn' t wait for my response. He just handed the cream dress to Karla, his hand brushing hers, a fleeting, intimate contact that made my stomach clench. Then, with a curt nod to Hanson and a dismissive glance at me, he muttered, "I' m heading out to make a few calls. See you both downstairs later." He walked out, his steps quick and decisive, as if escaping a trap.
His exit was too abrupt, too hurried. He didn' t meet my gaze, didn' t offer a comforting word, or even a backward glance. It was as if he couldn' t get away fast enough. The air he left behind felt thin, poisoned. Something was terribly wrong. My gut screamed at me. Jaxon, usually so composed, had been visibly flustered. His eyes had darted away from mine, his hands had trembled slightly when he' d reached for the door handle.
A cold dread settled over me. This wasn't just stress. This was guilt. A bitter, sour truth began to unravel in my mind. He knew something. He was hiding something. The question wasn't if, but what. And with whom. The image of Karla' s smug face, her possessive hand on Hanson, her words about Jaxon "looking out for her," slammed into me.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. My hands began to tremble. I had to know. I had to see. I had to confirm the horrifying suspicion that was now screaming in my head. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the rising panic. Panic wouldn' t help. Clarity would.
My mind, usually so precise, felt like a broken clock, gears grinding. But slowly, a desperate, terrifying thought formed. I needed to follow him. I needed to see where he was going, who he was meeting. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to move.
I found his assistant, Sarah, at the concierge desk, looking harried. "Sarah, have you seen Jaxon? He just left," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me.
Sarah looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, Ms. Hoffman! Mr. Schroeder just told me he had an urgent business matter to attend to. Said he'd be back later tonight. He took the service elevator down to the underground parking, I think."
The service elevator. Underground parking. An urgent business matter. My blood ran cold, a shiver tracing its way down my spine. Urgent business? When the rehearsal dinner was just hours away? His dismissal had been too quick, too practiced. The pieces were falling into place, forming a picture I didn't want to see. An ugly, grotesque picture.
My body began to shake uncontrollably, a tremor starting deep within my core and spreading through my limbs. It wasn't cold. It was shock. A premonition of despair. The air felt thick, suffocating. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the rising nausea. No. It couldn't be true. Not Jaxon. But an insistent voice in my head, raw and brutal, whispered, Yes. It could.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, to push back the encroaching darkness. I needed to be strong. I needed to see for myself. Doubt would kill me slower. Certainty, however painful, would set me free.
I made my way to the service elevator, my steps heavy and uncertain. The metallic scent of the elevator shaft, the dim, flickering lights, the hushed silence of the underground parking lot-it all contributed to a growing sense of dread. Each step echoed the frantic beat of my heart. The further I descended, the heavier the air became, thick with unspoken secrets.
As the elevator doors slid open, a low, guttural moan drifted through the stale air. It was a sound I recognized, a sound of raw, uninhibited passion. My breath caught in my throat. It was Jaxon's voice. I knew it. The very air around me seemed to crackle with an illicit energy.
My feet moved on their own, drawn by an invisible, horrifying magnet. I edged around a concrete pillar, my eyes scanning the rows of parked cars. And then I saw it. Jaxon' s black SUV. The windows were tinted, but the tell-tale rocking motion, the muffled sounds, were unmistakable.
My world shattered.
A choked sob escaped my lips, a painful tearing sound that I barely recognized as my own. My hands flew to my mouth, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to erupt. But it was too late. The damage was done. The image was burned into my mind. Jaxon. And Karla.
I saw her through the slightly ajar window, her face flushed, her hair disheveled, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. And Jaxon, his face contorted in an expression of raw lust, his hands tangled in her hair. It was a scene of utter, brutal betrayal. Not just a kiss. Not just a stolen moment. This was intimate. This was deep. This was three years of my life, a lie.
Karla' s voice, husky and breathless, floated through the air. "Jaxon, darling, are you sure about this? Marrying Hanson? What about us?" Her words were a cruel twist of the knife, gutting me.
Jaxon, his voice thick with desire, responded, "Don't be silly, Karla. You know Hanson's just a means to an end. It's always been you and me." He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers again.
The phrase "means to an end" echoed in my ears, chilling me to the bone. Not just for Karla, but for Hanson, for his entire family. And for me. What was I then? A mere inconvenience? A stable facade for his sordid secret?
A guttural sob escaped me, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. My legs gave out, and I crumpled behind the pillar, tears streaming down my face. My breath came in ragged gasps. The air was thick with the stench of their betrayal, choking me.
How could I have been so blind? So foolish? All the times Jaxon had been distant, all the late nights, the sudden business trips. All the excuses. They were never about work. They were about her. And Karla, sweet, innocent Karla, playing the victim, manipulating everyone around her.
I felt like I was drowning in a sea of lies. Every memory, every shared laugh, every tender moment with Jaxon, now tainted, poisoned by this horrifying revelation. He had looked me in the eye, told me he loved me, while secretly building a life with another woman. With my brother's fiancée. The sheer audacity, the callous disregard for my feelings, for our relationship, for my family.
The sounds of their intimacy began to subside. I heard Jaxon' s voice, a little strained, a little rough. "We need to be careful, Karla. This can' t get out. Not now. Not with the wedding tomorrow."
Karla giggled, a sound that grated on my raw nerves. "Don' t worry, darling. No one will suspect a thing. Especially not poor, clueless Alex. She' s too busy planning her next grand gesture to notice what' s right under her nose."
A fresh wave of nausea washed over me. Clueless Alex. That was me. The fool. The trusting idiot.
Jaxon suddenly pulled away from Karla, his face hardening. "No. You need to end things with Hanson after the wedding. This can't go on like this." His voice was firm, cold.
Karla pouted, her eyes wide with feigned hurt. "But Jaxon, how can you say that? After all these years? I've given you everything. I've waited for you. Are you just going to throw me away now that I've served my purpose?" Her voice cracked, a perfect performance of a wronged woman.
I watched, numb, as Jaxon's expression softened. He reached out, gently stroking her cheek. The sight twisted my gut. He was falling for it. Again.
"It's not like that, Karla. You know I care about you. But this is too risky. We need a clean break." His voice was laced with a tenderness that made me want to vomit. The same tenderness he once reserved for me.
My mind reeled. Three years. Three years of lies, deception, and hidden intimacy. This wasn't a fling. This was a parallel life he had built, a secret world he had shared with her, my brother's fiancée. He cared for her. He truly did. And he was trying to protect her, even now.
A small, metallic object slipped from my trembling fingers, hitting the concrete floor with a sharp clink. My phone. My body froze.
Jaxon' s head snapped up. His eyes, wide with panic, darted towards my hiding spot. Karla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Their faces, seconds before flushed with passion, were now pale with fear.
"Alex?" Jaxon's voice was a ragged whisper, a mix of disbelief and terror.
My heart seized. They knew. They saw me. There was no denying it now. No hiding. The raw, ugly truth was laid bare. But I couldn't face them. Not now. Not like this.
My instincts took over. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the searing pain in my knees, and bolted. Out of the parking lot, towards the main exit, away from their horrified faces, away from the scene of my utter humiliation. Away from the shattered remnants of my life.