Chapter 55: This Changes Nothing

Jason Asher’s penthouse felt like it was shrinking in around him, the glass walls looked cold and suffocating while the city lights twinkled mockingly through the floor-to-ceiling windows like distant stars indifferent to the chaos unfolding below. Jason stood rigid, his hazel eyes narrowed into slits of fury as he faced Sarai Monroe, who had invaded his sanctuary like a tempest in red silk. Her Versace dress clung to her curves, the gold jewelry glinting under the soft glow of the chandelier, but Jason saw only an unwelcome intruder. His blonde hair was tousled from running frustrated hands through it, and his gym-toned frame tensed as if ready for battle. "Spit it out, Sarai," Jason snarled, his voice low and edged with impatience. "Whatever you’ve got to say, say it and get the hell out of my house. I don’t have time for your games." Sarai didn’t flinch at his harsh tone. Instead, she sauntered deeper into the room, her sharp green eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and calculation. She kicked off her designer heels with deliberate slowness, letting them clatter against the marble floor, and sank into the plush leather sofa as if she owned the place. Crossing her legs elegantly, she smoothed her glossy black ponytail and fixed him with a serene smile that belied the storm brewing beneath. "Oh, Jason, always so quick to bark orders," she purred, her voice dripping with that signature sarcastic elegance. "You’d think after all we’ve been through, you’d at least offer me a drink. But fine, if you insist on being rude, I’ll cut to the chase." She reached into her oversized Hermes handbag, her manicured nails—painted a fierce crimson—flashing as she pulled out a crisp white envelope. Holding it out to him, she arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Here. This is what I came to share. Go on, open it. I promise it’s worth your time." Jason hesitated, his strong jaw clenching as he eyed the envelope like it was a venomous snake. His mind raced back to his earlier resolve—the plan to reclaim Eliana’s lost properties, to be her hero again. This interruption from Sarai felt like a derailment, but curiosity gnawed at him. With a scoff, he snatched the envelope from her hand, his fingers brushing hers just enough to send a reluctant shiver down his spine—a remnant of their tangled past. "Fine," he muttered, tearing open the seal with rough impatience. Inside, a glossy ultrasound scan slipped out first, the black-and-white image showing the unmistakable curve of a womb cradling a tiny, bean-shaped form. His breath caught, hazel eyes widening in disbelief as he unfolded the accompanying letter. The words blurred for a moment before sharpening into cruel clarity: Dear Jason, I’m pregnant. The baby is yours. We’ve created something beautiful together. Let’s talk about our future. Love, Sarai. Jason’s world tilted. He stared at the scan, his usual charm fracturing as shock rippled across his face. The room seemed to spin—the sleek modern furniture, the skyline beyond—everything fading into insignificance. "This... this can’t be real," he whispered, his voice cracking. He flipped the scan over, as if expecting it to reveal a joke, but the medical stamps and dates stared back accusingly. His hands trembled, the paper crinkling under his grip. "What the hell is this, Sarai? Some kind of joke?" Before he could unleash the torrent building in his chest, Sarai leaned forward, her light smooth skin glowing under the lights, her expression a masterful blend of vulnerability and triumph. "It’s no trick, Jason," she said softly, her green eyes locking onto his with an intensity that demanded belief. "The baby is yours. Ours. I found out a few weeks ago, right after you started rambling about going back to Eliana. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but you left me no choice. And before you ask—yes, I’ve already shared the news with your parents. And mine. They’re thrilled, darling. Ecstatic, really. Your mother was already chattering about wedding plans, saying it’s high time we made this official. The Asher and Monroe families united—what could be more perfect?" She smirked then, a slow, satisfied curve of her full lips, leaning back against the sofa cushions as if she’d just played a winning hand in a high-stakes game. In her mind, the pieces were falling into place: Jason trapped, Eliana sidelined, and her own ascent to the life she deserved secured. "See? This changes everything. You can’t run back to that naive little girl now. We’re going to be a family." To Sarai’s utter shock, Jason didn’t crumble. He didn’t shout or beg for details. Instead, he folded the letter calmly, his hazel eyes turning cold as steel. Setting the papers on the coffee table with deliberate precision, he straightened up, his voice steady and devoid of warmth. "This doesn’t change a damn thing between us, Sarai. I’m not the father of that child. Go find whoever the real one is—some other fool you manipulated into your bed. Or better yet, get an abortion. I don’t care. Just leave me out of it." For the first time since she’d burst through the door, Sarai’s composure shattered. Her eyes widened in genuine horror, the smug joy evaporating like mist in the sun. Her face paled beneath her flawless makeup, and she bolted upright, her ponytail whipping as she shook her head in disbelief. "What? How can you say that?" she yelled, her voice rising to a pitch of raw emotion, echoing off the penthouse walls. "An abortion? To our child? Jason, you’re being cruel! Insane! I know you’re doing all this just to crawl back to Eliana, but this... this is wrong! You’re throwing away something real for a fantasy!" She paced now, her bare feet padding furiously against the cool marble, her red dress swishing with each agitated step. Tears—real or performative, even she wasn’t sure—glistened in her eyes as she whirled on him. "Remember, Jason? Before we started sleeping together, we were best friends. You and me— inseparable since we were kids. We shared secrets, dreams... everything. How can you treat your best friend like this? Like I’m some disposable fling? I deserve better than your cold dismissal!" Jason threw his head back and laughed—a bitter, hollow sound that made Sarai’s bones chill. It wasn’t amusement; it was disdain, laced with the sharp edge of hypocrisy exposed. He stepped closer, his gym-toned arms crossing over his chest, eyes flashing with accusatory fire. "Best friends? You? Oh, that’s rich, Sarai. You’re calling me out on how to treat friends? You, who betrayed Eliana—our shared best friend—by sneaking around and sleeping with her boyfriend? Me! You stabbed her in the back without a second thought, all because you couldn’t stand her having something you wanted. And now you have the guts to lecture me on loyalty? You’re a hypocrite, through and through. A manipulative, envious snake in designer clothes." Sarai recoiled as if slapped, her sharp features twisting in a mix of rage and hurt. But Jason wasn’t done. He pointed toward the door, his voice thundering now, all pretense of calm shattered. "Get out, Sarai. Leave my house. I have important things to do—real plans that don’t involve you or your lies. Go!" Stubbornness flared in her like a wildfire. She planted her feet, arms akimbo, her green eyes blazing defiance. "No! I’m not leaving until you face this, Jason. You can’t just—" That was the breaking point. Jason’s patience snapped like a taut wire. He lunged forward, grabbing the letter and scan from the table in one swift motion. His other hand clamped around her arm—rough, unyielding, ignoring any pretense of gentleness despite her supposed pregnancy. Sarai gasped, her eyes widening in shock as he dragged her toward the door. "Jason! Stop! You’re hurting me!" she screamed, her voice a shrill mix of fury and fear, her free hand clawing at his grip. Her heels lay forgotten on the floor, and she stumbled barefoot, the red dress hiking up in the struggle. "Let go! How dare you treat me like this? I’m carrying your child!" He didn’t relent, his face a mask of cold determination, hazel eyes devoid of sympathy. "You should’ve left when I asked," he growled, yanking open the door with his free hand. With a final shove, he pushed her out into the hallway. Sarai stumbled, her balance failing as she landed hard on the polished corridor floor, her ponytail coming loose in a flow of glossy black waves. Pain shot through her knees, but it was the humiliation that burned hottest—a searing wound to her pride. Jason hurled her shoes and handbag after her, the contents spilling out in a chaotic tumble: lipstick, phone, keys clattering across the tiles. The letter and scan fluttered down like discarded confetti. "And take your crap with you!" he bellowed, slamming the door with a resounding bang that reverberated through the building. Alone in the hallway, Sarai sat there for a moment, stunned, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Fury boiled within her, hot and unrelenting, mingling with the sting of tears she refused to let fall. She pushed herself up, wincing at the ache in her arm where his fingers had dug in, her once smooth skin already blooming with faint bruises. Gathering her spilled belongings with trembling hands, she shoved the letter back into her bag, her mind racing. "That bastard," she hissed to herself, her voice a venomous whisper as she smoothed her disheveled dress. "All because of her. Eliana. He won’t even look at me, won’t acknowledge our child, because he’s obsessed with that worthless girl." Her face hardened, the sharp green eyes narrowing into slits of pure determination. A dark resolve settled over her like a cloak, pushing aside the humiliation and fueling a vengeful fire. "Fine. If Eliana’s the obstacle, I’ll remove her. Permanently. Make her disappear from the surface of the earth. Then let’s see what Jason does without his precious little forgiver. He’ll come crawling back to me—begging." With a final glare at the closed door, Sarai snatched up her heels, slipping them on with gritted teeth. Her steps echoed down the hallway as she stomped away, the click-clack of her heels a rhythmic promise of retribution. In her mind, the plan was already forming—shadowy connections from her socialite world, whispers of hired hands, accidents that could be arranged. Eliana Bennett wouldn’t know what hit her. And when the dust settled, Sarai would have everything: Jason, the baby, the empire. Power recognized power, after all. And she would wield it without mercy.