The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Ella POV

I knew the media frenzy would stir up trouble, but I didn’t expect Jake, the CEO of Black Enterprise, to lose his mind over it. Apparently, he hadn’t taken the revelation that I was a Kingsley heir too well. The moment the news broke, my phone lit up with his name flashing angrily on the screen.

"Miss Kingsley—or should I say Mrs. Soon-to-be-King?" Jake’s voice came sharp and biting the second I picked up. "Do you know how this looks for us? Partnering with the competition’s daughter? You lied to me, to the shareholders, to everyone!"

I rolled my eyes, holding the phone a little away from my ear to save myself from his fury. When he finally took a pause to breathe, I decided to step in.

"Jake," I said calmly, leaning back on the plush couch in my father’s villa. "Are you done?"

"No, I’m not done!" he snapped, his tone rising. "Do you realize the backlash we could face? You’ve made a fool out of Black Enterprise by withholding this critical information!"

"Oh, please." I chuckled, brushing off his tantrum. "First of all, I didn’t withhold anything. Let me ask you this: Did I ever change my name when dealing with you?"

Jake hesitated. "No, but—"

"Did I ever disguise myself or hide my face during our negotiations?" I interrupted, my voice calm but firm.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," I said, cutting him off again. "You assumed I was just another businesswoman with no connections. You didn’t bother to ask, and it wasn’t my job to give you my entire life story. If your team didn’t do their due diligence, that’s on you, not me."

Jake sputtered on the other end of the line, trying to come up with a retort but clearly failing. "You could have—"

"I could have done a lot of things," I said, my patience thinning. "But let’s not act like this is some grand betrayal. This is business, Jake. If anything, partnering with me strengthens your position, considering the Kingsley influence. But if you want to terminate the deal because your ego is bruised, go ahead."

There was silence for a beat before Jake’s voice returned, now dripping with indignation. "We need to talk about this in person. This isn’t over."

I smirked. "Sure, we can talk. But not right now—I’m a little busy planning my wedding. Or rather, my father is busy planning it, and I’m making sure he doesn’t turn it into a royal coronation."

Jake muttered something unintelligible and hung up in a huff. I tossed my phone onto the coffee table and sighed, running a hand through my hair.

It was exhausting dealing with people like him, but I couldn’t dwell on it. There was a bigger issue at hand—making sure my father didn’t go overboard with the wedding preparations.

The man was a perfectionist, and when it came to his only daughter’s wedding, he was pulling out all the stops. I had to keep reminding him that this wasn’t a gala or a political summit; it was just a simple wedding.

Well, as simple as it could be when the Kingsley name was involved.

Tomorrow was the wedding day. My wedding day. And yet, if someone had walked into this villa, they’d probably mistake me for the least excited person in the entire building. My father? Thrilled. Jason? Impossible to read, but I could tell he wasn’t exactly dragging his feet.

But me? The bride?

Let’s just say my enthusiasm for this "grand union" wasn’t exactly radiating.

"Ella, darling, you need to try on this gown again," one of the wedding coordinators chirped, holding up the custom couture masterpiece as if it were the Holy Grail. It sparkled like a star had exploded onto the fabric, but honestly, it felt more like a heavy chain weighing me down.

"Didn’t we already do this twice?" I mumbled, slumping further into the plush couch.

"Yes, but the adjustments—"

"Are fine," I said, waving her off. "It’ll look the same tomorrow. No one’s going to notice a half-inch difference in the hem, and frankly, I don’t care."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before she decided to cut her losses and leave the room, clutching the gown like it was her lifeline.

I sighed, leaning back and staring at the high ceiling of the villa. Marble floors, chandeliers, floral arrangements everywhere—this place was starting to look more like a royal palace than a home. My father had outdone himself, as always.

"Ella," his deep voice boomed from somewhere nearby. Speak of the devil.

"Yes, Dad?" I called back, not bothering to sit up.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, looking proud and smug as ever. "I just spoke to the chef. The seven-course menu is finalized, and I’ve personally ensured that every dish is perfect."

"Seven courses? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nonsense," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "This is a Kingsley wedding. It should reflect the grandeur of our name."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Right. Because the gold-plated invitations and ice sculptures weren’t enough of a hint."

He ignored my sarcasm, stepping further into the room and crossing his arms. "You don’t look very excited, Ella. Tomorrow is your big day. You should be glowing."

"I’ll glow tomorrow," I said with a fake smile. "Right now, I’m conserving energy."

He didn’t look convinced but didn’t push further. Instead, he gave me a pointed look and said, "Remember, this isn’t just to torture you, but to protect you from the vultures out there. To protect the family. The legacy."

Ah, yes. The legacy. The ever-present elephant in the room.

"Got it, Dad," I said, my voice void of enthusiasm.

With a satisfied nod, he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement about this wedding. The media had turned it into the event of the year, my family was treating it like a royal coronation, and Jason—well, he hadn’t exactly complained about the arrangement.

But me? I just wanted it to be over.

Not because I hated Jason or anything. In fact, he was probably the only saving grace in this entire ordeal. He was kind, funny, and surprisingly patient with all of this chaos. But the pressure, the expectations, the constant reminders of how this was about the family and not me—it was all so suffocating.

"Just one year," I muttered to myself, staring out the window at the sprawling garden below. "One year, and then I’m free."

That was the deal. A one-year marriage contract to appease my father and secure the Kingsley name. Jason was in on it, of course, and he’d been a good sport about the whole thing. But deep down, I wondered if he was secretly hoping for something more.

And that thought scared me more than anything else.

I knew Jason liked me—he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. There were the lingering glances, the way he always seemed to be there when I needed him, and, of course, that little confession. He hadn’t pushed it since, and for that, I was grateful.

For now, I liked how things were between us. We had a good rhythm going, and more importantly, we weren’t enemies anymore. That, in itself, was a miracle.

Back in the day, after the incident at the diner where I accidentally embarrassed him, we couldn’t stand each other. I found him insufferably cocky, and he thought I was an arrogant know-it-all. Those days were a battlefield of snide comments and subtle jabs. Looking back, it was kind of hilarious how petty we both were.

But now? Things were different.

We’d grown up, for starters. Jason had matured into someone who wasn’t just tolerable but actually kind of great. He was still confident—okay, borderline cocky sometimes—but it came with a charm that wasn’t there before.

So, yeah, this wedding wasn’t going to be awful or weird. Awkward, maybe. But not bad.

If anything, the best part about this whole arrangement was that I didn’t have to marry some stranger or someone I despised. Jason and I might not be in love, but at least we got along.

I let out a small laugh, thinking about how far we’d come. Who would’ve thought that the boy who once vowed to ruin me would end up being the man I walked down the aisle with?

Jason wasn’t the worst option in the world.

And for the sake of this ridiculous charade, I was willing to give it my best shot. As friends. Because that’s what we were, right?

Friends.

I told myself it was enough.

I should’ve known better than to answer a call from an unknown number the night before my wedding. The excitement and chaos of the day had dulled my usually sharp instincts. But the moment I heard her voice, regret came rushing in like a tidal wave.

Amber.

"Hello, Ella. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding with Jason. But I don’t think you’ll be so smug after you know what I know," she said, her tone dripping with malice.

I didn’t bother letting her continue. My patience for her drama was non-existent, and I wasn’t about to let her ruin the one shred of peace I’d carved out for myself in this whirlwind. I hung up before she could spew any more venom.

But then, my phone pinged.

A message from the same number. Attached was an audio file.

For a moment, I debated ignoring it. Amber thrived on stirring chaos, and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. But curiosity has always been my downfall. The urge to know, to understand, to confront the truth—no matter how ugly—was too strong.

I hit play.

At first, I couldn’t place it. The voices were muffled, laughing, almost casual. But then, clarity hit me like a freight train.

Jason. Dylan. Max.

Their voices were unmistakable, and the words that followed shattered every illusion I’d built around my relationship with Jason.

"...bet I could get her to fall for me first," Jason’s voice rang out, light and confident.

Dylan laughed. "Please, you’re not that smooth, man. She’s way too smart for that."

"I’m telling you," Jason continued, unbothered. "Ella’s not as cold as she pretends to be. She just needs the right approach."

"Right approach?" Max chimed in. "Or the right lies?"

More laughter followed, and I couldn’t bring myself to listen to the rest. I slammed the phone down, my hands trembling.

"Oh, please," Max shot back. "Don’t act like you weren’t all in when we made it. You wanted that yacht as much as I did."

"You’re missing the point," Jason said, exasperated. "This isn’t about the yacht or the bet anymore. It’s about Ella."

A bet.

I was a stupid bet so they can win a stupid yacht.

All of it—his good gestures, his friendly interactions, the way he made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could trust someone again—had been a game.

Stupid.

How could I have been so stupid?

My chest tightened as anger surged through me, hot and unrelenting. My thoughts spun in a chaotic blur, each one louder than the last. Tomorrow, I was supposed to marry him. To stand before everyone and promise forever to the man who had turned me into a joke, a pawn in his childish game.

Friends? My foot! Jason King was nothing but a lying, conniving jerk.

Suddenly, everything felt different. The anticipation I’d tried to build for this wedding? Gone. Replaced by a storm of betrayal and heartbreak.

One thing was clear—I wasn’t going to let him, or anyone else, make a fool of me again.