CHAPTER ELEVEN

JACK'S POV

"Is she gone?" I ask one of the security guards as he steps back inside, looking a little uncertain, which only irritates me further. I’m in no mood for hesitation.

“Yes, sir. We left her outside the gates and threw her things out, just as you asked.”

"Good," I snap. "And listen carefully: no matter what, never let that woman come back here again. Do you understand?"

He nods quickly, muttering a "Yes, sir" before retreating from my sight. I feel a wave of satisfaction watching him disappear. It’s about time she understood where she stands..

Hannah moves closer, slipping her arms around me, her touch gentle yet triumphant. "Are you okay, babe?"

I nod. She lets out a sigh of relief, a soft, satisfied smile curling at her lips. “I’m just glad that bitch is out of our lives for good,” she murmurs, her eyes gleaming with something dark and exhilarating.

“Go lie down, Hannah. You must be tired from that drama,” I say, brushing her cheek. “You shouldn’t get worked up, not now.”

As she heads upstairs, my phone vibrates, pulling me out of my thoughts. I see Mom’s name on the screen and answer.

“Jack,” she says, skipping any formality. “Did you take care of it?”

“Yes, Mother. Rachel’s gone, and I made sure she won’t come back. Not ever.”

There’s a pause before she speaks again, her tone more satisfied than relieved. “You did the right thing, son. Our family’s future depends on it.”

“I know, Mom. Family first over everything and everyone.”

I end the call and sink onto the couch, finally alone in silence. Memories of the last few years with Racheal, moments that once felt like they meant something, started to creep in. But not long before, I felt the familiar frustration creeping in, the resentment that had simmered under the surface for so long. Her inability to give me a family was a thorn in my side, a constant reminder of everything she lacked.

When we found out Rachel couldn’t get pregnant, I was furious. Furious at her, at the unfairness of it all. I went to my parents, hoping they might help and that maybe they’d find a solution. Instead, they gave me one cold, unyielding piece of advice: “You know you have to leave her, right? Our family business needs to be passed down, generation after generation. If you want your father to hand it over to you, you’ll need a son. And if Rachel can’t give you one, you know what you have to do.”

At first, their words made me angrier. I had gone to them for comfort, and all they cared about was the damn business. But deep down, I knew they were right. And then, as if fate had orchestrated it, I saw Hannah.

I was sitting at the bar nursing a drink that night at the country club when I saw her. The most beautiful girl from our school days, the one everyone envied. We had practically grown up together, thanks to our families. Her parents were close friends of my own. We spent the holidays together. Family vacations, in each other estates, holiday camps, and so on, they had even teased that we’d be married someday. I’d written it off as idle talk, nothing more than a childhood crush.

But when I saw her again, it felt like all that time hadn’t passed. She was sitting at the bar, a glass of wine in her hand, scrolling through her phone. I hadn’t seen or heard from her since Rachel and I got married, and yet there she was.

"Hannah?” I called, walking up to her.

She looked up, her eyes lighting with surprise and something else, a spark I hadn’t seen in years. “Oh my god, Jack! Yes, it’s me. How long has it been? Fifteen years?”

We hugged, maybe a little longer than we should have, but it felt… right. We spent the night catching up, laughing, sharing stories. It was harmless at first. I even introduced her to Racheal, and they got along well enough, too well, maybe. That's why Racheal never suspected us.

But as time went on, our meetings became more frequent. Harmless lunches turned into drinks that lasted too long, too late. And eventually, that spark from childhood caught fire. A year ago, one late at night and having too many drinks, we crossed the line. What we’d both been feeling spilled over, and suddenly, Racheal didn’t matter.

At first, we tried to bury the guilt, telling ourselves it was a mistake. But the pull was too strong. Soon, we were sneaking away to hotels, spending days and nights together, sharing more than just passion. I’d fallen for Hannah, fallen harder than I ever thought possible.

Then, two months ago, everything changed. Hannah called me with the news she was pregnant. And that’s when I knew Racheal had to go. I couldn’t drag her along in a sham of a marriage any longer. I had to think of my future, my family, my legacy.

It was exhausting pretending to be happy with her, showing up every day, and watching her try so hard to make things work while I felt nothing but contempt. I had tried to give her hints, distancing myself, growing colder, hoping she’d get the picture and leave on her own. But she clung on, oblivious, deluded, telling herself I was just stressed with work. So I decided to make a clean break to show her that her role in my life was over.

I’ll admit, I didn’t expect her to put up much of a fight. I thought she’d be angry, sure, maybe devastated, but the rage she unleashed surprised even me. Seeing her pick up that glass and throw it at us was a side of Racheal I hadn’t seen. As I covered Hannah, the glass slicing across my cheek, I almost respected her for it. Almost.

But now, she was out of my life, out of my way. And I was free to rebuild the life I wanted with Hannah by my side, the family I was meant to have