The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 172: Jealousy Mixed With Drunkenness

JASON’S POV

Staring at the stupid Black Corp conference on my screen, my jaw clenched so hard I thought I’d break a tooth.

And there she was—Ella Kingsley, in all her glory and splendor.

Radiant. Gorgeous. Deadly.

She was smiling at the press, looking like a queen addressing her subjects. The cameras loved her, flashing like they were capturing the second coming of royalty. And she was eating it up.

But my eyes? fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

They weren’t on her.

They were on the stupid bastard standing beside her.

Jake. Fucking. Jake. CEO of Black Corp.

And his filthy, filthy hand was on the small of my wife’s back.

Mine.

My hands curled into fists on the desk. He was looking at her like she was the greatest treasure in the universe.

Yes, idiot, she is—but she’s mine.

Even if she was my tormentor, even if she lived to make my life hell, even if she would burn my world to the ground just to watch me suffer—

She was still mine.

And the whole damn world knows it.

Jake should know it too.

My phone was in my hand before I even realized it, my fingers gripping it so hard it nearly cracked. My mind was screaming at me to be rational, to calm the fuck down.

But nope.

Because apparently, I was turning into a jealous husband.

A jealous husband... over the same woman plotting my downfall.

Fucking fantastic.

I should have turned the screen off.

I should have ignored it.

I should have been the bigger person.

But no. I was glued to the damn thing like an idiot.

The camera zoomed in on Ella as she shook hands with Jake, her smirk just a little too smug for my liking. Oh, she was enjoying this. Every inch of her radiated confidence, power, and that signature "I’m untouchable" attitude.

Jake leaned in, whispering something in her ear.

And she laughed.

Laughed.

I saw red.

Before I could even think, I slammed my laptop shut so hard that my assistant outside probably thought I was breaking the damn office.

"Sir?" his voice hesitantly came from the other side of the door.

"What?!" I barked, running a hand through my hair, trying to calm the hell down.

"There’s been an... update. From the media."

I exhaled sharply. "Just say it."

"...It’s about Mrs. King."

Of course, it is.

"Spit it out, then."

"She’s now officially announced as the second-largest shareholder of Black Corp."

I froze.

"What?"

"She owns half the shares of our biggest rival now, sir."

The room spun.

This had to be a joke. A cruel, messed-up joke.

How the hell did Ella manage that?

My company was already limping because of her little stunt with the charity donations, and now she had control over Black Corp?

My mind started racing.

No. No, this wasn’t random.

This was a power move.

She was coming for me.

And not just to ruin my life, but to dominate the business world while doing it.

I grabbed my phone again and, without thinking, dialed her number.

Ringing.

No answer.

Ringing again.

Still nothing.

"Of course, she’s ignoring me," I muttered under my breath.

Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto the desk and leaned back in my chair.

One thing was clear.

Ella wasn’t just playing games anymore.

She was out for blood.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t even mad about the power move.

I was mad about the way Jake looked at her.

And that?

That was a problem.

I should start fighting back, right?

Or was it the whiskey talking?

I squinted at my half-empty glass like it held the answers to my life problems. But nope. Just amber liquid. Not a single damn solution floating in there.

"Did you see how that stupid Jake was flirting with her?" I slurred, pointing at nothing in particular.

"Yep," Max replied, smirking. "You’re getting drunk."

I ignored him and slammed my glass down. "That slimy bastard doesn’t even care that she’s married!"

Max snorted. "Of course, he doesn’t. He’s Jake. He’d flirt with a lamppost if it had legs."

"She’s mine!" I declared, jabbing a finger at my chest. "My wife!"

Dylan and Max exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

"Bro," Dylan said between laughs, "you really shouldn’t say that near her."

I scowled, narrowing my eyes at them. "Why the hell not? It’s true."

Max wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Because if she hears you claiming her like some caveman, she’ll probably hack your company again and donate your remaining assets to build a sanctuary for homeless raccoons."

Dylan nodded seriously. "Or worse, she might actually divorce you and marry Jake just to spite you."

My heart stopped.

I froze.

Divorce? freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Oh hell no.

I shot up from my seat so fast my chair nearly fell over. "Over my dead body."

Max held up his hands. "Relax, man. It was just a joke."

"It’s not funny," I snapped, grabbing my coat. "I need to go."

Dylan raised a brow. "Where?"

"Home," I said, already walking away.

"To do what?" Max called after me.

I paused. What was I going to do? Barging into the house drunk and demanding my vengeful wife stop making my life a nightmare didn’t seem like the smartest plan.

But I wasn’t about to let Jake think he had a chance.

I turned back slightly, grinning. "To remind my wife who she belongs to."

Dylan groaned. "Oh, Lord. This is going to be a disaster."

Max grinned. "And I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

"I can drive," I grumbled, trying to grab my car keys back.

Max didn’t even blink before wrestling them out of my hand like I was a toddler asking for candy.

"Nope," he said flatly.

Before I could argue, both he and Dylan dragged me into the backseat, stuffing me inside like a sack of potatoes.

"This is kidnapping," I slurred, crossing my arms like a pouty child. "And you’re both stupid. Everyone is stupid. Especially that stupid Jake, touching my wife like he owns her."

Max sighed, glancing at Dylan. "Are we sure he should go home to Ella like this?"

I snapped.

I pointed a very wobbly, accusing finger at him.

"She is my wife, not Ella!" I declared proudly, as if I had just unlocked the meaning of life.

Dylan groaned. "If we take him to Ella like this, tomorrow we might have to attend his funeral."

Max nodded solemnly. "And I hate funerals."

I glared at them. "You idiots! Why are you stopping me? I want my wife!"

They both ignored me.

Betrayal.

Utter betrayal.

So, like any reasonable drunk man, I whipped out my phone and called my wife.

The phone rang.

And rang.

Then— she picked up.

Score!

"They are taking me away from you!" I immediately complained into the phone. "They don’t want me to see you!"

Ella paused. Then, in her no-nonsense voice, she demanded, "Are you drunk, Jason? And who the hell is ’they’? Are you being kidnapped?"

I smirked.

She cared.

My wife cared.

I completely ignored the fact that she was more concerned about me being kidnapped than actually missing me and instead focused on my victory.

Still holding the phone, I turned to Max and Dylan and grinned.

"My wife wants me home!" I yelled proudly. "She told you to bring me home!"