The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 170: Morning After

ELLA’S POV

Okay. What the hell happened?

My head was pounding like a drum in a rock concert. No, scratch that—like a bunch of monkeys having a rave party inside my skull.

Sweet Lord.

What the fuck did I drink?

I groaned, rubbing my temples as I blinked up at the ceiling. Why was everything so bright? Was the sun angry at me too? What did I ever do to it?

I forced myself to sit up, and that’s when I noticed it.

The smell.

Cologne.

A very masculine, very familiar, very NOT mine scent wrapped around me like a second skin.

What the—?

I looked down.

And there it was.

A T-shirt.

A VERY large, VERY male, VERY NOT MINE T-shirt.

And not just any T-shirt—JASON’S T-SHIRT.

Oh. Hell. No.

My heart stopped. Then it sprinted. Then it stopped again.

I lifted the hem, checking if—no, no, I had my underwear on. Thank God.

But still—WHY the hell was I wearing his shirt?!

I tried to think back, rewind the events of last night like a horror movie I didn’t want to watch but had to.

I remembered... wine. Lots of wine.

I remembered Jason looking like he was about to have a stroke every time I took another glass.

I remembered being carried.

I remembered being tucked in.

And then...

Shit.

I changed.

And if I was wearing his shirt, that meant...

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Oh my God.

I turned, staring at the empty spot beside me.

Did he—?!

No. No, he wouldn’t.

Jason may be a lot of things—a jerk, an idiot, a walking reminder of my ruined pride—but he wasn’t the type to take advantage of me when I was drunk. frёeωebɳovel.com

I took a deep breath. Calm down, Ella. Think.

Maybe... I stole his shirt?

Maybe... he gave it to me to avoid dressing me in those ridiculous lace nightgowns that my father had bought?

Okay. That actually sounds like something he’d do.

Still, he was a dead man.

I swung my legs off the bed and winced.

Yep. Still drunk. Or at least drunk-adjacent.

And I was going to kill Jason King.

If I could just stand up properly first.

Okay, logically speaking, I should have been shy.

I should have been mortified that I acted like a brat last night. That I whined, pouted, cried—cried!—like some spoiled rich heiress who didn’t get her way.

But nope.

I felt zero shame. Nada. Nothing.

All I felt was shitty.

And hungover.

And annoyed at the stupid alarm that I had already thrown across the room yet it still wouldn’t shut up.

I groaned, rubbing my temples.

First priority—coffee.

Jason can wait.

I forced myself up, ignoring the oversized shirt hanging off my frame—his shirt. Jason’s stupid, comfortable, annoyingly nice-smelling shirt.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Coffee first. Existential crisis later.

I shuffled toward the kitchen, hoping—praying—that Jason wasn’t there.

And...

He wasn’t.

Huh.

Not just the kitchen. The whole damn house.

Jason King was gone.

I stood there for a moment, blinking at the silence.

Wow. I get the whole house to myself.

I should be relieved.

I should be plotting my next move.

I should be scheming his downfall.

But instead, all I could think was—

Coffee.

Coffee is all I need.

Coffee. That’s all I needed. Not answers, not explanations, not the embarrassment that was last night creeping up on me like a bad omen.

I shuffled into the kitchen, my bare feet making soft thuds against the cold tiles. My head? Pounding. My stomach? Warring between demanding food and threatening to revolt against me. My mood? Lower than my patience for Jason’s existence.

Priorities, Ella. Coffee first.

I grabbed the coffee beans, dumped them into the machine, and slammed the button harder than necessary. The machine whirred, filling the room with the one thing that could save me from committing murder today.

As I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, waiting for my life elixir, the oversized fabric of Jason’s shirt brushed against my skin.

Right.

His shirt.

I glanced down at myself, taking in the ridiculously large size, the way it hung loosely around my thighs, the faint scent of him still lingering on it.

I scowled.

How the hell did I end up in his shirt? freёweɓnovel.com

I tried to think. Tried to piece together the hazy memories of last night’s disaster.

I remembered the event.

I remembered being the perfect wife for the cameras.

I remembered the wine.

I remembered Jason carrying me out like some doting husband.

And then... nothing.

I groaned. Great. Just great.

Knowing Jason, he was probably laughing his ass off somewhere, gloating about how I’d turned into a spoiled, whiny mess in front of him.

I needed to burn this shirt.

The coffee machine beeped, and I quickly grabbed a mug, pouring myself the only thing standing between me and committing arson today.

As I took my first sip, a thought hit me.

Jason.

That bastard wasn’t here.

Not in the kitchen.

Not in the living room.

Not in the entire damn house.

Did he actually run away?

I scoffed. Coward.

What, did he think I’d wake up, realize what happened, and slit his throat with a butter knife?

I mean... fair assumption.

I took another sip.

Maybe I should.

Or better—maybe I should make him suffer.

I smirked. Oh, Jason. You can run, but you can’t hide.

Because no matter where he went, he was still married to me.

And this game was far from over.

Just then, my stupid phone rang.

I groaned, glaring at the screen as if it had personally offended me. The name flashing? Jake—CEO of Black Empire.

Great.

Just what I needed.

I had completely forgotten about him.

I exhaled sharply before answering. "What?"

A chuckle came from the other end. "Good morning to you too, darling."

I rolled my eyes. "Jake, if you don’t have a reason for calling, I’m hanging up."

"Tsk, tsk. So cold." I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "And here I thought we were partners now."

Partners.

Right.

I had single-handedly secured half the shares of his company—Black Empire, Kingsley’s biggest rival. A move so bold, so reckless, so genius that the Kingsley board would have no choice but to recognize me.

The deal had been the perfect power move. A strategic checkmate.

And yet... here was Jake, acting like a smug bastard.

"I don’t have time for your flirting, Jake. Get to the point."

"Ouch." He laughed. "Fine. Just wanted to remind you—our little partnership will be made public in a few hours. Thought you’d want a heads-up before the business world loses its mind."

I blinked.

Shit.

I had forgotten.

The press release. The storm that was about to hit.

Jake must have sensed my momentary silence because his tone turned amused. "Oh? Did I actually catch you off guard, Kingsley?"

I scowled. "You wish."

"Mmm. I do. But not about business."

I clicked my tongue. "Bye, Jake."

"See you soon, darling."

I hung up, tossing my phone onto the counter.

Crap.

This was going to be big.

The moment the news dropped, it would shake the entire business world. The Kingsleys holding shares in their biggest rival?

It was madness.

And the best part?

My father had no idea.

Yet.

I took another sip of coffee.

I really, really hoped Jason was enjoying his temporary freedom.

Because once this news hit, and my father summoned me for answers, I was going to need something to take my frustrations out on.

And who better than my dear, darling husband?