Trapped in His Ring

Jaxon’s POV

The silence in the penthouse felt heavier than usual.

Jaxon stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the city lights below, yet his mind was miles away — back in that moment when Raina had looked at him with something more than fear. It was confusion, sadness… and something else he couldn’t put a name to.

He let out a breath, tugging the knot of his tie loose as if it were choking him. Maybe it was.

He hadn’t meant for things to go that far. Not tonight.

But the second she had spoken back, that spark in her eyes—so unlike the broken girl from the alley—had triggered something in him. Something that scared him more than he liked to admit.

“Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his palm against the glass. “What am I doing?”

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. She was supposed to stay quiet, stay out of his way, and serve the role she’d signed up for. But Raina Sins didn’t seem to know how to follow the script.

Her tears had haunted him even after she disappeared into the bedroom. And now, the space between them felt like a war zone neither of them had asked for.

He walked over to the cabinet, poured himself a drink, and stared at the amber liquid. He hadn’t even asked her if she’d eaten. Or if she was okay. What kind of man did that make him?

But then again, what kind of man gets trapped into marriage with a woman who only ever sees the monster in him?

The phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the heavy silence.

Unknown Number.

His brows pulled together.

He answered with a guarded, “Yes?”

There was a pause. Then a soft voice, nervous and broken. “Mr. Caleb, I was calling to inform you that the medical results you requested… came back.”

His spine stiffened. “And?”

“There’s no match. She’s not the one.”

He closed his eyes slowly. The bitterness that followed was sharp and ice-cold.

“Of course not,” he whispered.

Raina wasn’t the one.

But why did it feel like she was the only thing in his life that felt… real?

He ended the call and dropped the phone, then leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples.

He should be relieved.

This arrangement could end cleanly. No need for deeper entanglements. No more pretending.

Yet all he could see was Raina, standing in the kitchen earlier—trying to act unbothered, trying to hold herself together. That quiet strength. That fire.

Maybe she wasn’t the one he was looking for.

But somehow, she was the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own past.