Reclaimed By My Ex-husband

Jaxon arrived at the Grand Hotel. He was a bit self-conscious around the luxurious settings. It was a kind of place where every corner gleamed too sharply, reminding him how out of place he was.

He tried not to look at his reflection in the brass-paneled elevator as it carried him up. His jacket was creased, his shirt a little too loose around the collar. This was all he had left, and he hated how badly it showed. Still, he kept telling himself: 'If she meant what she said, maybe things would change.'

At the door of the presidential suite, he stopped. His hand hovered a moment. What if she laughed when she saw him like this?

He swallowed, tightened his jaw, and knocked anyway.

The door opened. Riya stood there in the doorway, dressed in a long dark skirt, pale sweater pulled snug around her. She carried herself with the kind of self-possession that made everything on her look intentional.

Jaxon's chest tightened, and he pushed a smile across his face. "Hello."

Riya didn't smile back. Her eyes flicked over him once before she stepped aside. "Come in."

He slipped inside, shoulders drawn in as if the furniture itself might scold him for taking up space.

Riya took her seat on the sofa. "Sit down."

He nodded and lowered himself into the armchair opposite, tugging his jacket straighter, trying to pretend he wasn't embarrassed.

"You said you would help me," he began cautiously. "I don't have anything left. No money, nowhere to stay. I just need a chance. A place, some stability. For that—" he hesitated, eyes dragging up to meet hers "—for that, I can do anything for you."

Riya leaned back into the sofa, her posture fluid, almost lazy, though her eyes were cutting and sharp. The corner of her mouth tugged upward into a smile. She already had him where she wanted him.

"You are perfect for this job," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "Do this job, and you won't ever have to worry again. I'll pull you out of this mess completely. New identity, new place—no one will ever find you. You can start over."

Hope flickered in his eyes, and he grinned. "I'm willing. Just tell me. What can I do for you?" he blurted excitedly.

"You have to eliminate Zara. I want her gone."

The grin slid right off his face. His chest felt hollow suddenly.

Killing Zara?

The very thought made a chill run down his spine. He wished he had never kidnapped her. That single act had torn his entire life apart.

His father was behind bars, his mother had vanished without a trace, the company was seized, and all the family's assets stripped away.

And him? He had no roof over his head. He had scurried like a rat in the dark alleyways, dodging the police at every turn. To step into this hotel, he had to cut his hair, change his gait, and change everything required him to alter his appearance just to avoid recognition.

No one but him knew the torment of how he had managed to survive these days. And if he touched her again, Nathaniel would grind him into the dirt until there was nothing left.

A shiver crept across his back, cold as steel. His hands, resting on his knees, had gone clammy. He couldn't force himself to look at Riya. But he couldn't do what she had asked him to do.

"I can do anything for you," Jaxon stammered, "but killing…" He pulled back slightly, shaking his head. The flicker of horror in his eyes gave him away. "That's not possible. I—I can't do it."

Riya didn't flinch. She stayed cool, one arm draped along the cushion. "Don't you want a life free from worry and tension?" she asked, her tone deceptively calm. "A secure life. No fear of police, no hunger, no running. I can give you that."

Jaxon lowered his gaze to the floor. His mind raced, spinning too fast to settle. He did want that life more than anything. But killing Zara would be suicide. Even if he fled, even if Riya made good on her promise, he knew Nathaniel would eventually find him. And when Nathaniel came, there'd be no mercy.

He lifted his head slowly, his voice probing. "But… why do you want to kill Zara? She is your sister-in-law. Why do you hate her so much that you'd want her gone?"

For the first time, something in Riya shifted. Her face stiffened, the smugness disappearing entirely. Her glare locked onto him like a knife point.

"That's my issue. You don't get to pry into it."

She leaned forward slightly, looking into his eyes. "You think about yourself. Look at the state you are in—your losses, your family, your downfall—it's because of her. Don't you want revenge?"

Jaxon's throat went dry. The word revenge thudded in his chest like a drumbeat. Her stare pinned him down, forcing him to face the anger he had tried to bury.

Yes, he had despised Zara, wanted her to suffer, to beg, to give back what she had stolen from him. But never—never—had he thought of killing her. He had planned to reclaim his shares, clear his father's name, and restore what was his by right.

Riya watched him closely and could see the crack in his expression. "Because of her, you lost your inheritance," she pressed the wound deeper. "You are the only son of the Moore family—the rightful heir. But she snatched every piece of property, every ounce of power from you. She has become the sole owner of the Moores' property. She has stolen your future. Don't you want to make her pay for that?"

Her words dug under his skin like hooks, a dull ache spreading through his chest.

It was true—once he had been the Moore heir, the son who lived in wealth and privilege. Now, he was nothing but a fugitive, stripped of dignity, forced to scavenge scraps to survive. The sting of that humiliation burned through him, reminding him constantly of everything Zara had taken away.

He shut his eyes briefly, rage burning in his chest. How could he forget the humiliation? How could he forgive it?

He had often imagined ending Zara's life. Now, Riya's words only stoked that rage further, pushing him to consider what she had suggested seriously.

"Your father is rotting in prison, and your mother? No one knows where she is and what kind of misery she is facing. Don't you want to take revenge for them?"

Riya studied his expression. "Zara is merciless, cold-blooded. She tore your family apart. It's her own family, too, but she feels nothing. Someone that ruthless deserves a severe punishment, don't you think?"