The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

JASON’S POV

I spotted Max and Dylan across the room, their usual carefree selves now awkwardly hanging back, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Smart move.

Their eyes flicked over to me, and I could see the unspoken question hanging between us: Is this really Ella? The same Ella we all knew, the one who used to be sarcastic, playful, but somehow always had that fire in her eyes. Was that version of her gone for good? Had she came back.

I didn’t need to say anything. I just shook my head.

Max frowned slightly, and Dylan’s lips tightened as if they knew exactly what I meant. This wasn’t the Ella we used to joke around with. This was... something else. Something cold, calculating, and more than a little dangerous.

And as I stood there, pretending to be her perfect husband in front of the cameras, I realized something I couldn’t escape:

I didn’t just marry a woman. I married a force of nature. A nature I had underimasted.

A force that was slowly grinding me down, one smile, one kiss, one damn look at a time.

At least not everyone was oblivious to my misery. Max and Dylan—the two people who probably knew me better than anyone else in this messed-up situation—were casting me these apologetic glances. It was clear as day that they pitied me. Hell, I could practically hear their internal monologues screaming "You poor bastard."

I remembered back to when I first agreed to this insane marriage contract. Back then, I was so naïve, so convinced that everything would turn out okay. I had convinced myself that it was all just a matter of time—time to win Ella’s heart, time to prove that I could change, that I wasn’t the same guy I was when the bet started. My head was full of plans, daydreams, fantasies... and yeah, probably some overblown confidence that I’d be able to break through her walls.

But now?

I just wanted the year to end.

Not because I didn’t love her—I still did, more than I had ever thought possible—but because what I was living through? This wasn’t the dream I had envisioned. Not by a long shot. The woman I thought I’d married, the one I could have a future with, was now some twisted version of herself, barely recognizable. She was karma incarnate, holding grudges like she was collecting them in a jar and using them to break me down piece by piece.

I couldn’t deny it—I loved her, but this was beyond what I ever imagined I’d face. The coldness, the resentment... It was like living in a constant storm, and I had no idea how to weather it.

Hell, at this point, I wouldn’t wish this situation on my worst enemy.

Every time I glanced at Ella, all I could think was: What the hell happened?

The way she looked at me now—cold, calculating, like she was always five steps ahead and I was just some pawn in her game—it was enough to make me want to crawl out of my own skin. At the event, she was the perfect wife, the one I had dreamed of—sweet, gentle, and full of charm. She made me believe, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, this could all work out. But the moment I looked into her eyes, I knew better.

That wasn’t Ella. That was a version of her I didn’t recognize, the one built on bitterness, and spite, and resentment. She was playing a role, a character in some twisted drama, and I was the unwilling audience.

I thought back to the kiss we had shared for the cameras. It was supposed to be romantic, sweet, a way to seal the deal in front of everyone. But it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt like I was signing my soul away to some devil, a woman who had me trapped in her web, and I was too far gone to escape. The way she pulled me in, her lips soft but her touch ice cold—it was like she was marking me, reminding me that no matter how much I loved her, she would never forgive me for what I had done.

I was starting to feel like a puppet on strings, a prop in her perfect little world, where nothing was as it seemed.

I looked at Max and Dylan, who were still hanging around the edges of the event. They exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of this new version of Ella. I could see the pity in their eyes, even though they were trying to hide it. They knew what this was—knew what I was walking through. I gave them a quick shake of my head. They didn’t get it, not really. They didn’t know the torment I was going through, the internal battle between loving the woman in front of me and despising what she had become.

It was a game to her. A game of power, control, and payback.

And me? I was just another pawn on her board.

The worst part? I still loved her. I couldn’t help it. No matter how she treated me, no matter how hard she pushed me away, it didn’t change the way I felt. I still cared for her, still wanted to make it work.

But she wasn’t the same Ella I had married.

I took a deep breath and forced a smile for the cameras, playing my part in this charade. Smile, Jason. Just smile. It’s all for the show.

As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but notice Ella’s behavior shifting. The more she sipped on her wine, the more I saw her walls coming down—or maybe I should say, crumbling. I knew she was getting a little tipsy, and that’s when my mind started spiraling.

She was already walking on thin ice with me, but now? If she kept going down this road, I was terrified she’d spill everything. I could already see it—the scandal, the ruin. My blood ran cold just thinking about it.

She wasn’t just drinking for fun, either. The way she was tossing back glasses like they were water—it was like she was trying to forget something. Or maybe, someone. But in the back of my mind, I was screaming at her to stop, because the last thing I needed was for her to lose control and start talking. I didn’t need her blurting out to the world that our marriage was a damn contract. Or worse, the bet.

My heart raced as I thought about Mr. Kingsley. God, if he found out... I was done for. No, we were done for. My entire world, my reputation, everything I had worked for—it would come crashing down. I couldn’t let her tell anyone.

The idea of him finding out was enough to make me break into a cold sweat. I knew how much he loved his daughter, how far he would go to protect her. But what would he do if he learned that I had made a bet on her, that everything between us was nothing but a game to begin with? Not to mention the fact that our marriage had been built on a contract that I had secretly hoped would turn into something real... eventually.

I saw her laugh at something her father said, but the way her head tilted, the slightly glazed look in her eyes—it only made my anxiety worsen. She wasn’t in control anymore, and I was scared to think about what would happen if she wasn’t careful.

I had to stop this.

I can’t let this go on.

The last thing I wanted was for Mr. Kingsley to show up in the middle of a crisis, especially when he was already suspicious of me and this whole situation. If he found out the truth, he wouldn’t just disown me. He’d ruin me.

I quickly moved to Ella’s side, trying to be casual but stern.

"Ella, maybe you should slow down with the wine," I suggested, my voice low enough to keep the conversation between us.

She turned to look at me with a soft smile, her eyes still a little distant. "Oh, Jason. Stop being such a buzzkill. It’s just wine," she said, waving me off.

But I wasn’t having it. My nerves were shot, and I couldn’t take the risk of her blurting out something stupid in front of everyone.

"Ella, seriously," I said again, my hand gently reaching for her glass. "You’ve had enough for tonight."

She raised an eyebrow at me, clearly amused. But behind that amusement, there was something dangerous in her gaze.

"Are you trying to control me now, Jason?" she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

That tone sent a chill down my spine. The last thing I needed right now was to get into a fight with her in front of all these people, especially with her tipsy. If this turned into something bigger, there was no way to clean it up.

I forced myself to smile. "Just looking out for you. You know, husband duties," I said, hoping to play it cool.

But deep down, I was panicking. The more she drank, the more she seemed like a ticking time bomb. She was angry, and when she got angry, who knew what she might do or say. I wasn’t even sure I could talk her down.

She didn’t answer me right away, and for a second, I thought she might push me away. But instead, she took a long sip of the wine, finishing the glass, and then set it down with a deliberate clink.

"Fine, Jason," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her gaze was sharp. "You win. I’ll stop drinking. Happy now?"

I nodded, relieved that the worst hadn’t happened yet. "Thanks," I muttered, although I wasn’t sure whether she was playing me or actually listening to me.

She gave me a quick, almost mischievous smile. "I don’t know what you’re so worried about. I’m not going to make a scene. Not yet, anyway."

That didn’t help my nerves one bit. My pulse was still racing.

"Ella, please—"

But before I could say anything else, she leaned over to kiss my cheek, her lips brushing against my skin in an almost affectionate gesture. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if she was just playing another role, but either way, my stomach twisted.

I had to stay focused.

"Just—just remember what’s at stake here," I said quietly, trying to steer her away from the wine and the drama that seemed to be brewing between us.

Her smile faded for a moment as she looked me dead in the eyes, the humor gone and replaced with a coldness that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Trust me, Jason. I know exactly what’s at stake."

And for the first time that night, I believed her.