Chapter 1The Ex I Hid Away

At the bar, my assistant Chloe was crying her eyes out over a breakup.

Someone chimed in to comfort her: "Who hasn't had a trash ex? Let's have a contest. Who has the most embarrassing ex? Maybe that will make Chloe feel better."

The girls started throwing out their horror stories:

"I dated a guy who was obsessed with feet. It was his whole personality."

"I dated a guy who was so cheap, he made me Venmo him for the gas used to drive to my house."

"I dated a guy who wore a fedora unironically in 2023."

The atmosphere heated up. Suddenly, someone turned to me.

"Harper, you've been quiet. What about you? You must have a past."

I stared at the amber liquid in my glass, feeling a bit buzzed.

"I have one."

Everyone leaned in, interested. "You have such high standards. You turned down CEO Preston last month. Your ex must have been a god, right?"

I sniffled. I glanced at a tall figure working behind the bar in the distance.

I looked away and said indignantly, "He was an old man."

The group gasped. "Like... a silver fox? A billionaire daddy?"

I shook my head.

"A thug. Uneducated. Bad temper. And he did time in prison."

The group was stunned. "So... he must have treated you like a queen, right?"

I suddenly remembered that summer five years ago. His voice was cold as ice.

Harper, I’m done with you. We’re done. Leave and don't come back.

Treat me like a queen? Hardly.

I downed my drink, my throat burning.

"He was a scumbag."

"I moved in with him when I was sixteen. We were together for four years, and in the end, he dumped me."

The table erupted in sympathy.

"Damn, Harper, you win."

"That’s not just an ex, that’s a criminal record."

"You really lowered your standards for that one."

Chloe wiped her tears, curious. "But Harper... did he at least save your life or something?"

My eyes drifted back to that figure in the shadows.

"Yeah," I whispered. "He saved my life."

* * *

When I was sixteen, my stepmother sold me.

The buyer was rumored to be a killer fresh out of prison.

I was dragged to a run-down house by an old woman—his grandmother—and pushed in front of a tall man.

"Jax, this is the wife I found you."

The man was tall, with sharp brows and eyes that looked like they could cut glass. He looked terrifying.

"Nana, have you lost your mind? That’s a child."

The fixer standing next to us laughed nervously. "She’s sixteen, a real beauty. Let her do housework for two years. When she’s legal, you get a marriage license."

Jax cursed, his voice like thunder. "Get out! I’m not an animal!"

I stood there, trembling, not knowing what to do.

The fixer got desperate. "You’ve got a record, Jax! Who else is going to marry you? Your grandma saved every penny to get you a wife. Her family already took the cash!"

Jax walked up to me. The air around him dropped ten degrees.

"Where do you live?"

I whispered the address of the trailer park.

He turned around, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me out the door.

The "return" process was violent.

My stepmother didn't want to give the money back. She stood on the porch, screaming. "You took the goods! Who knows if she’s still clean! No refunds on used goods!"

I stood there, humiliated, wishing the ground would swallow me. My father sat on the steps, smoking, saying nothing.

Jax picked up a beer bottle from the trash and smashed it against the porch railing.

"Nobody told you? I just got out for manslaughter."

He pointed the jagged glass at them. "Want to make it two?"

My stepmother screamed and threw the envelope of cash at him.

He turned to leave.

As soon as he stepped off the porch, my stepmother slapped me across the face.

"Useless trash! Now we have to find another buyer! The guy in the next town only offered eight grand!"

I shook violently.

I didn't know what kind of hell awaited me next.

On the drive back, I had thought about ending it. Jumping out of the car. But I was a coward. I was sixteen. I wanted to live. I wanted to go to school.

Suddenly, the front door was kicked open.

Jax was back.

He didn't say a word. He threw the envelope of money back into my stepmother's face.

Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of that house.

"Is that your biological mother?" he asked, his voice shaking with rage.

"No," I stammered. "But... my dad is real."

He cursed under his breath. "Wait here."

He went back inside.

I heard my father scream.

I don't know why, but the tears finally broke through. Being sold, being hit—I was numb to it. But in that moment, standing in the dirt driveway, I cried.

I followed him to his beat-up truck, tears streaming down my face.

"Why are you crying?" His tone was still harsh. "You were tough enough a minute ago."

I didn't speak.

He scratched his head aggressively, messing up his hair.

"Fine. Just... come home with me for now."