<h4>Chapter 28: Still Mine</h4>


    The evening air hung heavy with the scent of rain as Jason Asher leaned against the balcony of his family’s sprawling penthouse, the city skyline glittering below like a taunt. His hazel eyes, usually bright with calcted charm, were shadowed, his jaw tight as he clutched his phone, still reeling from Eliana’s words. "You don’t know anything about me anymore. Don’t call me again, Jason. I’m done with you." Her voice, sharp and unyielding, echoed in his mind, slicing through the haze of his self-assured arrogance. Eliana—his Eliana, the girl who once gazed at him like he hung the stars—had hung up on him. Hung up. On him. The audacity of it stung like a p, and yet, beneath the sting, a flicker of something else stirred: desperation.


    Inside, the penthouse buzzed with Sarai’s presence. The clink of her wine ss against the marble countertop, the sharp click of her stilettos pacing the polished hardwood, the faint hum of her voice as she chatted with someone on her phone—probably another influencer, another rung on her endlessdder of ambition. Jason’s lips curled into a grimace. Three weeks ago, he’d thought Sarai was the answer, the glittering upgrade to Eliana’s quiet, unpolished devotion. Sarai was fire and sh, all sleek ck hair and designer dresses, her green eyes sharp enough to cut through any room. But now, standing on this balcony with Eliana’s rejection burning in his chest, Jason realized something he’d been too proud to admit: Sarai was exhausting.


    He pushed off the railing, his tailored zer creasing as he stormed back inside, the ss door sliding shut with a soft hiss. Sarai was perched on a velvet barstool, her glossy lips pursed as she scrolled through her phone, her emerald-green dress clinging to her like a second skin. She didn’t look up, but her voice carried that familiar edge of syrupy condescension. "You’re pacing again, Jason. It’s giving me a headache."


    Jason stopped short, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. "Maybe I’m pacing because I’m sick of this," he snapped, his voice low butced with frustration. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, mussing its artful perfection. "Sick of you."


    Sarai’s head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing like a cat’s. "Excuse me?" She set her phone down with deliberate slowness, the ck of it against the counter sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. "What’s that supposed to mean, Jason? I’m the one who’s been here, holding your hand while you mope over her."


    Jason’s jaw clenched. "Don’t. Don’t bring Eliana into this."


    Saraiughed, a sharp, brittle sound that grated on his nerves. "Oh, please. You’re the one who called her, aren’t you? Don’t think I didn’t hear you out there, whispering her name like some lovesick puppy." She slid off the barstool, her heels clicking as she sauntered toward him, her perfume—a cloying mix of jasmine and ambition—filling the space between them. "What is it about her, Jason? Her sad little thrift-store sweaters? Her pathetic little apartment? Or is it that she worships the ground you walk on? Because let’s be honest, I don’t."


    Jason’s hands balled into fists at his sides. "Maybe that’s the problem, Sarai. You don’t let me breathe. Everything’s apetition with you. What I wear, what I say, who I talk to—it’s like I’m auditioning for your approval every damn day."


    Sarai’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes shed with something darker—jealousy, maybe, or the sharp sting of being called out. "Auditioning? Oh, honey, you’re lucky I even give you the time of day. You think Eliana could keep up with you? With us? She’s nothing. A nobody. My parents have more money in their wine cer than her entire family will ever see again. Guess what, Keh Holloway is gone. Eliana would never be in our ss again!"


    Jason’s chest tightened, a familiar shame creeping up his spine. He’d heard it all before—his parents’ voices, Sarai’s, the whispers at theirvish parties about Eliana’s "unsuitable" background. Her faded clothes, her father’s hospital bills, the way she carried herself with a quiet dignity that made their world of excess look garish. He’d let those whispers get to him, let his mother’s cold fingers pry the engagement ring off Eliana’s hand, let Sarai’s honeyed promises pull him into her bed. But now, standing here with Sarai’s smug face staring him down, he felt like he was drowning.


    "You don’t get it, do you?" he said, his voice quieter now, but heavy with realization. "Eliana never tried to change me. She didn’t care about my family’s money or what I wore or how I looked at parties. She just... loved me. And I threw it away."


    Sarai’s smirk faltered, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms. "Loved you? Jason, she was obsessed with you. Clinging to you like some pathetic little leech. I did you a favor, getting her out of your life." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it. You wanted me. You still do."


    Jason’s stomach churned. He thought of the nights with Sarai, her sharpughter, her endless demands—Wear this, not that. Don’t talk to them, they’re beneath us. Why can’t you be more like this? He thought of Eliana’s soft smile, the way she’d hum to herself while sketching sunflowers, the way her honey-brown eyes lit up when he told a stupid joke. Eliana had never asked him to be anything but himself. Sarai, on the other hand, wanted a version of him that didn’t exist—a polished, perfect puppet to match her influencer aesthetic.


    "Did you tell her?" Jason asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension. "About us. Did you tell Eliana we were sleeping together?"


    Sarai froze, her green eyes flickering with something—guilt, maybe, or defiance. "What if I did?" she said, tossing her head so her sleek bun caught the light. "She deserved to know the truth. You’re mine, Jason. Not hers. You’ve always been mine."


    Sarai had no clue how Eliana found out but she wasn’t sorry she did.


    The words hit Jason like acid. "Yours?" he repeated, his voice rising with incredulity. "You don’t own me, Sarai. And you sure as hell don’t love me. You love the idea of me, the heir to the Asher fortune, the guy who looks good on your Instagram feed. But Eliana?" He took a step toward her, his hazel eyes zing. "She loved me. The real me. And I was too stupid to see it."


    Sarai’s face twisted, herposure cracking like thin ice. "You’re delusional," she spat. "You think you can just crawl back to her and she’ll take you? After everything? She’s nothing, Jason. Nothing! And you—" She jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice trembling with rage. "You’ll always choose me. Because I’m better than her. Tell me I’m better, Jason. Tell me you love me more."


    Jason stared at her, his heart pounding. He’d heard this demand before, her constant need for validation, her obsession with outshining Eliana. It was suffocating, like a chain tightening around his chest. "I don’t," he said finally, his voice steady. "I don’t love you more. I don’t love you at all."


    The silence that followed was deafening. Sarai’s mouth opened, then closed, her green eyes wide with shock. For the first time, Jason saw her not as the fierce, untouchable queen she pretended to be, but as a desperate girl clinging to a fantasy. "You don’t mean that," she whispered, but her voice wavered.


    "I do," he said, turning away from her. He grabbed his jacket from the couch, his mind racing. Eliana’s words reyed in his head—"I’m done with you." His quiet, gentle Eliana, who’d once called him just to hear his voice, who’d forgiven his ws time and again, had shut him out. And it was his fault. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, her cold insistence that Eliana was "beneath" them, that Sarai was the better match. He’d listened, let them strip away the ring he’d given Eliana, let them convince him she was disposable. But now, the weight of that mistake crushed him.


    He strode toward the door, ignoring Sarai’s sharp cry of "Jason, wait!" His hand was on the knob when he turned back, his expression hard. "I’m going to get her back," he said, his voice low and resolute. "Eliana’s still mine. And I’m not letting her go again."


    As he stepped into the elevator, the doors closing on Sarai’s stunned face, Jason’s heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. He didn’t know how he’d win Eliana back—didn’t know if she’d even listen after what he’d done. But one thing was certain: he’d fight for her, no matter what it took. And he’d start by finding out where she was and what exactly Sarai had done to tear them apart.


    Because to Jason Asher, Eliana Bet was still his fiance.