Chapter 17 Hunted
1242 Words
The boardroom suddenly felt smaller.
Gena stared at Jared.
“Outside my apartment?”
His expression remained unreadable.
But his eyes—
His eyes looked dangerous.
“Ado confirmed it.”
Her stomach tightened.
“How did they find my address?”
Jared slipped his phone into his pocket.
“They followed records.”
Fear crawled quietly beneath her skin.
Her condominium had always been her refuge.
Private.
Peaceful.
A place untouched by business and scandal.
And now—
Reporters stood outside it.
Waiting.
Watching.
Like hunters.
She hated the feeling.
Jared studied her face.
“You’re not going home.”
The command irritated her immediately.
“No.”
His jaw flexed.
“No?”
“I said no.”
“You think this is optional?”
Her spine stiffened.
“I’m not hiding.”
His expression hardened.
“This isn’t bravery.”
“And this isn’t prison.”
Silence sharpened between them.
Then—
His voice lowered.
“They’ll camp outside.”
Her pulse wavered.
“They’ll question neighbors.”
The image disturbed her.
“They’ll take photos.”
She looked away.
“And twist whatever they get.”
The room quieted.
Because unfortunately—
He was right.
But still—
She hated agreeing with him.
“I can manage.”
Something dark crossed his face.
“Why do you always insist on suffering alone?”
The question startled her.
She looked back.
And for a second—
He almost sounded frustrated.
Not controlling.
Frustrated.
“Because I’m used to surviving,” she answered softly.
His jaw tightened.
The answer clearly displeased him.
Before either could continue—
Ado knocked.
“Sir.”
Jared opened the door.
“The car is ready.”
He nodded.
Then looked at Gena.
“You’re staying at the mansion.”
Again—
Decision made.
Again—
Without asking.
She crossed her arms.
“I didn’t agree.”
His gaze darkened.
“And I didn’t ask.”
The arrogance instantly reignited her anger.
“You’re impossible.”
His voice remained calm.
“You’ll thank me later.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Ado quietly pretended not to exist.
Wise man.
Then Jared spoke again.
And this time—
His tone carried warning.
“You’re not going to that apartment.”
The certainty unsettled her.
Not because he sounded angry—
But because he sounded serious.
Very serious.
And somehow—
That frightened her more.
Outside J Corporation—
Chaos waited.
The moment the elevator opened toward the private parking area—
Voices erupted.
Cameras flashed.
Security struggled.
Gena instinctively froze.
So many reporters.
More than she expected.
Questions exploded immediately.
“Mrs. Jacobo!”
“Did you marry for money?”
“Were you secretly involved with Mr. Jacobo while he dated Sarah Valencia?”
“Did you trap him?”
The cruelty hit harder in person.
Her fingers tightened.
And suddenly—
The headlines no longer felt distant.
They felt sharp.
Humiliating.
One reporter shoved forward.
“Mrs. Jacobo, did poverty motivate the marriage?”
That one hurt.
Pain flashed briefly across her face.
And immediately—
Jared noticed.
His expression cooled dangerously.
Then—
Without warning—
He stepped in front of her.
The movement happened so naturally—
So protectively—
That she almost missed it.
His body shielded hers from the crowd.
Security closed around them.
But Jared remained closest.
A wall.
Solid.
Unmoving.
His voice turned icy.
“Move.”
The reporters hesitated.
His eyes swept across them.
And suddenly—
No one looked brave anymore.
“You want statements?”
His voice sharpened.
“Speak to legal counsel.”
Another camera flashed.
“Sir, is it true Mrs. Jacobo hid her background?”
Something dangerous surfaced in his expression.
“My wife’s history is not scandal.”
The words stunned her.
The reporters quieted.
And Jared continued—
“Her achievements are public.”
His gaze remained cold.
“If your journalism depends on humiliating a woman for being poor—”
His jaw tightened.
“You should reconsider your profession.”
Silence.
Even the cameras slowed.
And standing behind him—
Gena felt something strange.
Warmth.
Confusion.
Because this—
This wasn’t obligation.
He sounded angry.
Personally angry.
Security quickly guided them toward the car.
The doors shut.
And finally—
Silence.
Heavy breathing filled the vehicle.
Gena stared out the window.
Her chest still hurt.
Jared remained beside her.
Unusually quiet.
Then—
His voice came low.
“Did they touch you?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“The reporters.”
His expression remained hard.
“Did anyone touch you?”
The question surprised her.
“No.”
His shoulders loosened slightly.
Relief?
No.
Impossible.
She looked away again.
“You didn’t have to say those things.”
He frowned.
“What things?”
“To the reporters.”
His eyes remained forward.
“They were disrespectful.”
“You defended me.”
The car grew quiet.
Then—
His answer came simply.
“They insulted my wife.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
That word again.
Wife.
But this time—
It sounded different.
Less possessive.
More protective.
And somehow—
That unsettled her more.
Meanwhile—
Inside Sarah’s condominium—
Champagne sat untouched.
The actress stood near the window while another entertainment article played on television.
This time—
The footage showed Jared shielding Gena.
Protecting her.
Publicly.
The sight poisoned her mood.
Her investigator sat nearby.
“We found more.”
Sarah turned.
“Tell me.”
The man handed over another folder.
“She grew up in a small province.”
Sarah skimmed the papers.
Scholarship.
Part-time work.
Medical records.
Then—
Her eyes stopped.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
A slow smile touched her lips.
“What is it?” the investigator asked.
Sarah looked at the document again.
A name.
A former employer.
And a difficult period from Gena’s past.
The smile widened.
“People love scandal,” she murmured.
Then softly—
“And I’m about to give them one.”
By evening—
The mansion welcomed them with uneasy silence.
The maids bowed politely.
But the atmosphere felt tense.
As though the house itself sensed trouble.
Gena stepped out of the car first.
Exhaustion settled heavily inside her.
She wanted nothing more than sleep.
And distance.
Unfortunately—
Jared followed closely.
Inside the living room—
She finally stopped.
“I’m tired.”
His gaze lingered on her.
“I noticed.”
“I’m going upstairs.”
“You’ll eat first.”
The command irritated her immediately.
“I’m not hungry.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“You barely ate lunch.”
Her brows lifted.
“You monitored that too?”
His jaw tightened.
“I observe.”
“No,” she muttered. “You supervise.”
Something dangerous flickered inside his eyes.
Then—
Unexpectedly—
His voice softened.
“Eat.”
The single word surprised her.
Not because of authority.
But because—
He almost sounded concerned.
And that—
That was unfamiliar territory.
She hesitated.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
A small victory.
The maids quickly prepared dinner.
And for a while—
Silence settled between them.
But upstairs—
Unseen—
One of the younger maids hurried nervously toward Jared’s study.
Because a package had arrived.
No sender.
No note.
And when she opened it—
Her face lost all color.
Because inside—
Were photographs.
Old photographs.
Of Gena.
And someone clearly wanted Jared to see them.
- Writer
