Free Web NovelChapter 160: Friends Getting Roasted
Elena’s POV:
Apart from my father being a crazy fan of Jason and his stupid request—no, scratch that, it was more like a demand for grandchildren—nothing else about this situation was sitting right with me. The way he spoke about it so casually, like I could just get pregnant to check off his wish list... I almost choked on my coffee again thinking about it. He’d be waiting for a while, that much I knew. I’d sooner throw myself in front of a bus than let him get his hands on my future grandkids... but that was beside the point.
What did make me happy, though—scratch that—what made me feel a bit of a sense of control in this swirling mess, was the fact that he mentioned I would officially become the CEO of Kingsley Enterprises within three days. That was something I could hold onto. Something I could actually build on, even if my marriage to Jason felt like a joke.
Three days. That was it. Three days until everything changed. I would be the one in charge. No more being stuck in the background, no more being treated like a little girl in my father’s eyes. I could do this. I would prove myself, with or without Jason’s support.
And for that, I didn’t need him—at least, not in the way my father thought I did.
Jason. Ugh. Even just thinking about him made my blood boil. He was so smug, so damn convinced that because he cooked me breakfast and played the perfect husband for a morning, it would somehow fix everything. He had no idea what kind of mess he’d stepped into, and I wasn’t sure if I should feel sorry for him or laugh at his naive optimism. frёeωebɳovel.com
But CEO. That was real. That was power. I didn’t need to sleep with him to make things work—I just needed to focus. Get my position solidified. Get the company into my hands.
And then? Maybe I could finally put the past behind me. Maybe I’d find a way to make Jason regret ever being a part of my life. For now, though, I had bigger fish to fry than some stupid bet, or the man who made me feel like a fool.
As for my father—he can kiss his grandchildren goodbye. That would never be a part of my plan, no matter how many times he brought it up. I wasn’t about to play his game and bend to his every ridiculous demand. If he thought I’d get pregnant to secure my position in the company, he was sorely mistaken.
I would win his approval without needing to follow his outdated, patriarchal expectations. I would prove I didn’t need to be tied to some perfect image of a family to be worthy of taking over the Kingsley empire. My work, my drive, my skill would do all the talking. I would earn my place at the top—not through a marriage, not through a child, but through everything I could do on my own.
Jason? He could keep playing house and pretending to be the doting husband for all I cared, but he wasn’t the key to my success. He was just an annoying side character in my bigger plan. If my father thought he could pressure me into things by dangling the carrot of "grandchildren" in front of my face, he was gravely underestimating me. I’d do it my way, on my terms. And when I sat in that CEO chair in a few days, I’d have the power to call the shots.
As for Jason... I’d make sure to remind him every single day of what he got himself into. And he’d regret it. He’d regret all of it.
After my father finally left (with that ridiculous "grandchildren" nonsense still hanging in the air), I dragged myself back to my room. The whole morning had been a series of uncomfortable moments—my father going on about my "future grandchildren" while Jason played the doting husband, cooking me breakfast like he actually gave a damn. Pfft. Yeah, right.
But now, back in my safe, cold fortress of a room, I had work to do. There was no way I was going to make a fool of myself in the upcoming board meeting. I had to prepare—thoroughly. I grabbed my laptop, cracked my knuckles (a little dramatic flair never hurt anyone), and dove into research on Kingsley Enterprises. I wasn’t about to embarrass my father in front of all those sharks just because I didn’t know what I was talking about.
I got into the groove of it, typing away like a woman on a mission.
***
I had spent the better part of the afternoon holed up in my room, buried under a mountain of notes and research. Every click on my laptop felt like a step closer to saving my reputation. After all, my father had just announced that I’d be taking over Kingsley Enterprises at the upcoming board meeting in three days, and I wasn’t about to stumble into that arena like an amateur. I had to know everything—financials, operations, strategies, everything. There was no room for error, especially with the way my father had been looking at me lately, like I was his personal chess piece.
After hours of staring at graphs and pie charts, my stomach growled, and the faint pang of thirst crept up on me. I needed a break.
I stood, stretching my stiff limbs, and decided to head downstairs. A glass of juice would be a good start. Maybe even a snack. I could care less about whatever Jason was up to; the last thing I wanted to do was interact with him right now.
As I descended the stairs, the familiar sounds of hushed voices and nervous laughter reached my ears coming from the kitchen. I paused mid-step, frowning, Max and Dylan were here. It wasn’t the usual friendly chatter that you’d expect from three grown men—no, this sounded more like they were psyching themselves up for some battle. Not that I cared.
I kept my head down as I walked into the kitchen, but the moment I entered, everything came to a screeching halt. The conversation immediately stopped, and I could feel the weight of three pairs of eyes on my back. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Jason, Max, and Dylan stood frozen like deer caught in headlights, their nervous energy crackling.
I didn’t give a damn. I went straight for the fridge, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. My movements were deliberate, nonchalant even, as I poured myself a glass. I could feel their gaze following me, but I couldn’t care less. As far as I was concerned, they didn’t exist.
But then Max called out my name.
"Ella," his voice was hesitant, like a man about to walk into a lion’s den. "Listen, we just... we just wanted to say we’re sorry. About the bet. We were idiots, okay? It was a long time ago, and we ended it—"
I didn’t let him finish. I turned slowly, locking eyes with him and cutting him off with a sharp tone.
"Save it, Max."
The room went silent for a beat. I could see Dylan shift uncomfortably from where he stood, trying to find some form of dignity in the middle of the mess they’d created. But it was too late. The anger I had buried deep inside me all day was finally bubbling to the surface, and I wasn’t about to let them off easy.
"We really didn’t mean to hurt you," Dylan chimed in, clearing his throat awkwardly. "We just... we got caught up in it. It was stupid, and we know it."
I let out a small laugh, not a humorous one—more like a bitter, sardonic chuckle. It felt like I’d just tasted something sour, and I wasn’t about to swallow it.
"Wow. How sweet," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’re sorry? That makes it all better, doesn’t it? A little ’sorry’ to wipe away the mess you made? Too bad I’m not buying it."
I saw Max wince, and for a split second, I relished in the discomfort I was causing. But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
"Let me get this straight," I said slowly, raising my eyebrow as I took another sip of my juice, letting the silence stretch. "You three made a bet about me. To get me to get involved with you and then dump me like trash for what? Your amusement? A stupid yacht? And now you’re here, trying to convince me that I’m supposed to just forgive you because you ’ended it’? No, I don’t think so."
Dylan opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. I raised a hand to silence him.
"Newsflash," I continued, voice sharp like the crack of a whip. "I don’t care about your stupid bet. I don’t care that you’re sorry. And I certainly don’t care if you think you’ve ’changed.’ The fact that you three even thought this was okay to begin with—that’s what I can’t forgive."
Max and Dylan exchanged nervous glances, like they were trying to figure out where they went wrong. It didn’t take a genius to see that they were starting to sweat. Good. They deserved to feel uncomfortable.
I could see the gears turning in their heads. They were looking for the right words, but I wasn’t interested in hearing them. Not anymore.
"Look," Dylan said, his voice almost pleading. "We never meant for this to go this far. You’ve got to understand—"
"No, don’t ’come on’ me!" I snapped, my voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You all are going to regret ever thinking it was a good idea to mess with me. And trust me, you’ll regret it even more when you realize what you’ve unleashed."
Max swallowed hard, looking like he might have fainted on the spot. He glanced at Dylan, and I could practically see the panic in his eyes. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done. The illusion of their "good intentions" had shattered, and now they were left to pick up the pieces. Jason walked off back to a corner when he saw things had gotten heated up. Good choose.
I took another slow sip of my juice, savoring the power I had in that moment. They didn’t know how much worse it could get for them, but I did. And I wasn’t going to let them off the hook.
"Now, do yourselves a favor and get out of here," I said, voice low and dangerous. "Before I make your lives even more miserable. And don’t you ever think I’ll forget this."
Max looked like he was about to say something, but I was done listening. Without a second glance, I turned on my heel and walked out of the kitchen, feeling their eyes on my back as I went.
I didn’t need to say anything more. They got the message.
I was finished with them, and I was done pretending to be the ’forgiving’ one. The truth was, they hadn’t just hurt me—they’d made a mistake that would cost them. Big time.
And if they thought they could come back from that? They were sadly mistaken.
