Page 134 of The Jaded Notes

That was two years ago. Now Leon Baker, the man who destroyed my father and tried to do the same to me, sits in his office knowing that one word from me burns his entire empire to the ground.

My label thrives because he has no choice but to watch me succeed. He knows that every deal I make and every song that hits number one is another reminder of how I’ve turned the tables.

He has no clue that Crowne Ventures International backs every decision I make or that my freedom was bought with invisible technology and offshore accounts that can’t be traced back to Jaxon. Nobody knows that because that’s how we have it set up.

He lets me run the show. All I do is make money and help his bottom line. He’s basically an angel investor when it all comes down to it.

And Leon… Well, that’s where I get a fabulous taste of retaliation.

All Leon knows is that I hold his life in my hands now. If he ever tries to hurt me or mine again, I’ll ruin him the same way he destroyed everyone else. But none of that power means shit if I can’t get her back.

Livianna turns onto Pacific Coast Highway, and my stomach drops as the realization slams into me like a bat to the face. She’s going to Malibu. To someone’s house. Someone who can afford oceanfront property and the kind of privacy that money can’t usually buy.

Someone who isn’t me.

The Audi slows and turns into a gated driveway that screams wealth and discretion. I pull over further away and across the street, parking beneath windswept palms as outrage and heartbreak wage war in my chest.

The house rises from the coastline like something out ofan architectural magazine. Modern glass and steel, all clean lines and expensive taste, overlooking the ocean like it owns the fucking horizon.

It’s the kind of place that appears in lifestyle spreads about successful men and the lives they build for the women they love. Everything I never gave her. Everything I was too fucked up to provide.

Through my windshield, I watch her step out of her car with a smile that could power the entire coastline. She’s wearing a short fall dress that wisps around her thighs in the evening breeze.

Her hair is loose with soft waves that make my chest crack open with memories of tangling my fingers through those luscious locks while she whispered my name like I was the only man alive.

She pulls out her phone. Even from this distance, I see the way her face transforms as she answers.

She laughs, that musical sound that used to be mine, and spins in a fucking circle like she’s dancing to music only she can hear. She must disconnect because she slips her phone back into her bag and skips inside.

“Goddammit.” I light a cigarette with hands that won’t stop shaking. “She’s never spun in a circle over me.”

She disappears into the house, and I’m left sitting in my car like some deranged stalker. Then I see it.

Shadows move behind expensive curtains. He’s in there with her, and I’m out here watching while my imagination runs wild with images that make me want to put my fist through something.

Whose place is this? Is she cooking dinner with him? Will they curl up on the couch while he runs his fingers over her soft skin? Is she letting him touch her in ways that used to belong to me?

The thought makes me want to storm through that frontdoor and remind whoever the fuck he is that some things can’t be replaced.

But I can’t.

The truth is, I lost the right to fight for her the moment I let her believe I slept with Zara to keep her safe.

Time and time again, I was abused and chose my anger over Livianna’s heart, choosing everything that was slowly killing me over the one person who could’ve saved me.

My phone buzzes against the console. Three missed calls from Bren and a text that makes my blood run cold.

Guns:Bro, where are you? We’re supposed to be in the studio reviewing the US tour logistics. You better not be doing anything crazy.

Too fucking late for that. I’m already here, witnessing the woman I love disappear into someone else’s life while I sit on the outside like the broken bastard I’ve always been.

The lights in the house dim, and I catch a glimpse of movement upstairs. Two silhouettes close enough together that my vision tunnels with blinding rage. I take a long drag of my cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs in a way that seems appropriate.

At least I can control Leon now. At least I have power over the man who tried to knock me down, the way he hurt the people I love. But power over my abuser means nothing if I can’t have power over my own heart.

The cigarette burns down to my fingers. I get out of the car and drop it, crushing the butt under my boot. I pick it up and toss it into a nearby disposal for soiled, tied-up dog bags.

The palm trees sway above me as I pace beneath them. My leather jacket does nothing to cut the chill that’s settled in my bones.