Chapter 6 She Is Mine. Elena Is Mine

Graham's Point Of View

I stood by the window, watching the door slam shut behind her.

The silence she left behind felt like a vacuum. It sucked every last ounce of logic from my brain and replaced it with confusion... and rage. My fists clenched, but not because of anger at her... no, this was different. I didn't even understand what I was feeling.

What just happened?

Her words echoed in my mind. "I'm going to get myself a boyfriend." "Don't forget... I can open doors too." A boyfriend? That had to be a joke. A cruel, twisted joke. Elena couldn't possibly have... A boyfriend? Her?

The woman who clung to me like oxygen? The one who cried into my chest, begging me to stay when things went cold? The same woman who used to wait up for me at night even when I returned home wasted from stress?

No. Impossible.

"Elena," I whispered, half-expecting her to turn back through that door. She didn't.

Before I could process further, a soft hand curled around my wrist. "Let her go," Lillian said sweetly, her manicured nails digging just slightly into my skin. "She's no use to you anymore."

I turned, stunned by the venom wrapped in her honey-laced tone.

Then came my mother's voice... ever so sharp. "Yes, son. Let that barren woman be. Focus on Lillian, darling. She's carrying your heir. My grandchild."

That snapped me out of whatever trance I was in. Lillian smiled, rubbing her stomach like it was a trophy. Her eyes sparkled as if she'd just won.

A slow fury spread through my chest like a spill of gasoline waiting for a match. I yanked my arm free.

"I don't care about Elena." My voice was flat, cold. "But I do care about this family name. And I'm not about to let her drag it through the mud."

Lillian blinked. "What..?"

"I'm going to get her back. Talk some sense into her before she does something stupid."

"Graham!" Lillian called out, but I was already heading for the door. My mother's voice joined in like background noise, screechy and judgmental.

"She's nothing, Graham! Don't ruin your future over a bitter ex-wife!"

"Ex-wife?" I paused as I turned, "Elena is still my wife and I'm going to bring her back here." I slammed the front door shut behind me.

The night air was cold and thick with tension. I strode to my car, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I wasn't sure what this feeling was... panic? Anger? Jealousy?

I slid into the driver's seat, shoved the key in, and started the engine. The low rumble of the car gave me something to focus on.

'Where the hell did she go?'

I opened the GPS app, clicked on her location. Thank God I hadn't deleted the tracking link from her phone. She never turned it off... either because she forgot or didn't care. Typical Elena.

I watched the red dot blink. It was moving... until it stopped.

"An exclusive bar?" I murmured. I squinted. The Vesper Club. How did she even get in? That place was for VIPs, members-only, and extremely private.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, teeth clenched. Who was she meeting? Why that place?

I floored the gas.

The roads blurred as I drove through the city, following the dot. My mind was racing with every possibility. Was it an old flame? Some gold-digging bastard who saw her as a conquest? Or worse... was it someone she genuinely wanted?

The thought made something dark twist in my gut. It took fifteen minutes to get there, but it felt like hours.

I pulled into the sleek, guarded parking lot of The Vesper Club. A valet approached, but I waved him off and flashed the black card in my wallet. One of the privileges of my father's network. They knew the Sinclairs.

After two layers of security and a biometric scan, they let me in.

The lighting inside was moody... dimmed chandeliers, velvety red drapes, and jazz humming low beneath the murmurs of expensive conversations. Women laughed like promises they never intended to keep, and men whispered like devils in suits.

But none of it mattered.

I scanned the room. Then I saw her. My lungs seized.

She was at the far end, seated at the booth, her legs crossed elegantly, one heel dangling lazily as she tilted her chin and downed a glass. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck. And next to her... A man.

Dark-haired. Tattooed forearms. Sleeves rolled. White shirt half unbuttoned, like he didn't give a damn about dress codes. He wasn't just sitting next to her, he was leaning in, talking close, too close.

And Elena... laughed.

Not the fake polite chuckle I knew. This one was real. Warm. Like a flame slowly coming back to life.

I stepped forward, breath stuck in my throat, and then it happened. He reached for her glass, she resisted, words were exchanged... and then... She kissed him.

No. No, no, no. She fucking kissed him. My vision went red. I stood frozen, nailed to the polished marble floor.

Elena... my wife was kissing another man. Something in me cracked.

The kind of crack you don't hear right away... until everything around it crumbles. I couldn't even move. The jealousy... the betrayal, it hit me like a freight train. Not because I loved her. Not because I wanted her back.

But because she was mine.

I took a step forward, fists balled.

I didn't care who he was. I didn't care what she said. I was going to drag her out of there and remind her just who the hell she got married to.

Then she stood up, her hips swayed as if she hadn't just shattered every bone in my damn chest. The man had his arm wrapped around her waist, possessively, intimately, like he had every right to. Like she was his.

She wasn't. She was mine. My wife.

I pushed through the crowd, rage boiling in my veins, heat rising up my spine like molten lava. The flickering strobe lights caught glimpses of them... her purse tucked under her arm, his smirk, her dazed expression. Her hand clutched his shirt as they made their way toward a corner hallway bathed in dim red light.

No.

No way in hell.

My feet moved before my brain could fully process it. I charged forward, shoving aside two guys laughing over tequila shots. The moment I took one aggressive step toward that hallway, a thick arm slammed across my chest.

"Sir, that's a restricted area," the bouncer barked. I looked up at him... tall, black suit, sunglasses indoors, built like a mountain. I gritted my teeth. "Do you know who I am?"

"Don't care."

I stepped back, shoved at his arm. "That's my wife in there. My damn wife!" The bouncer didn't flinch. "Still don't care."

I turned, frantic, eyes scanning for someone else... anyone who would see reason. Another bouncer joined in, stepping beside the first, forming a human blockade between me and the dark hallway my wife had just disappeared into with that bastard.

"Elena!" I roared over the music. "Elena! What the hell are you doing?!"

Heads were turning now. Curious eyes. Whispers. Gasps. The music still throbbed, but it had become background noise to the drumbeat of betrayal pounding in my chest.

"Let me through!" I yelled, eyes narrowing on the corridor where she was disappearing. "I'm not joking, I will burn this whole place to the ground if you don't..."

"Sir," one of them growled, stepping closer, "you either calm the hell down or we'll throw you out."

I tried to push past again, and failed.

"She's not supposed to be here," I hissed, panic mixing with fury. "You don't understand. She's mine. Elena is mine."

And then I saw it.

Their shadows on the wall. The outline of her body against his. His hand sliding over her waist.

I staggered back.

Like someone had reached into my chest and twisted every organ out of place. The blood drained from my face.

My wife. Kissing another man. Willingly. Laughing. Holding onto him.

What the actual hell was going on?

I stumbled to the side, hand slamming against the bar counter as I tried to steady myself.

"Elena..." I whispered, disbelieving. "What the hell happened to you?"

The last image I had of her was her walking out of the house, telling me she had a boyfriend. I thought she was bluffing. Trying to get under my skin.

"Mr. Graham?"

A voice snapped me out of my daze.

It was the bar manager. Sleek. Nervous.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, glancing warily between me and the guards. "You're disrupting our guests. We'll have to escort you out if you continue yelling."

I laughed bitterly, running a shaky hand through my hair. "Guests? You let a married woman get seduced in public and I'm the problem?"

"She's a consenting adult, sir. She came in on her own. We don't involve ourselves in personal matters."

I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they might shatter.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

The red haze of fury burned at the edge of my vision. And all I could do was stand there, watching the shadows move deeper down the corridor. Watching her disappear into someone else's arms.