When Love Turns to Ash Novel – Chapter 20
Chloe Davenport’s downfall was swift and brutal.
Disgraced, fired from her PR job before it even officially began, she faced a barrage of lawsuits and public condemnation.
The tabloids had a field day with the “Sociopath Publicist” and her “Loverboy Manager.” Intimate, embarrassing details of their conspiracy were leaked daily.
She was alone in her court-ordered psychiatric facility, abandoned by Julian, her parents offering only financial support to keep her locked away and out of sight.
Jax’s father, a man Jax barely knew, a stern patriarch who valued reputation above all, confronted him.
The Harding name was mud. The family business, built over generations before Jax inherited and neglected it, was ruined.
“You did this!” his father roared, his face purple with rage. “Your recklessness, your scandalous affairs, your utter lack of judgment!”
Jax, numb and hollow, just stared back. “Chloe deserved what she got. So did Julian.”
“And what about that Miller girl?” his father spat. “The one you tormented for years? The one whose brother is now systematically destroying what little is left of our company with his ‘evidence’?”
He clutched his chest, his breath hitching.
“You’ve shamed us all, boy. You’ve shamed yourself.”
Then, he collapsed. A massive heart attack.
He died before the ambulance arrived.
Jax had lost everything. His family. His company. His money. His friends. His reputation.
One night, stumbling out of a cheap bar, he was jumped by some old adversaries, men he’d crossed in his arrogant, careless youth.
They beat him senseless, leaving him bleeding in an alley.
As he lay there, broken and alone, one thought consumed him. Savvy.
He had to find her. He had to tell her… something. Anything.
He scraped together his last few euros and bought a train ticket to Milan, having heard of my success.
He arrived looking like a ghost, disheveled, haunted.
He found me outside my new flagship store, a sleek, minimalist space buzzing with activity. I was laughing with Mateo, discussing plans for our wedding, our future.
I looked happy. Successful. Whole.
The sight of me, so vibrant and alive, so utterly out of his reach, was a physical blow.
He’d destroyed his chance with me. Utterly and irrevocably.
He stepped forward, his shadow falling over us.
“Savvy?”
My laughter died. I turned, my expression freezing when I saw him. Coldness, pure and absolute, radiated from me.
“What do you want, Jax?”
“I… I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
I looked at him, at the ruin he’d become.
“Sorry?” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Sorry for what, Jax? For the years of lies? For the humiliation? For the scars? Or are you just sorry you got caught?”
He flinched. “I have nothing left, Savvy.”
No sympathy flickered in my eyes.
“Good,” I said, my voice like ice. “You deserve nothing.”