Chapter- Thirty-three

Chapter 33

Jasmine sat in the back seat of Antonio's Rolls-Royce, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows. She had no idea where he was taking her, but after tonight's events, she wasn't sure she even cared.

She hated this. Hated the feeling of being trapped, of being controlled.

It reminded her too much of the past.

Her grip on her forearm tightened as the memories resurfaced—ones she had buried deep, ones she never wanted to think about again.

Ethan.

She forced her gaze out the window, trying to push his name out of her mind, but it was already too late. His voice echoed in her head, the way he used to twist his words so sweetly, making her believe she was safe with him.

Until she wasn't.

The way he isolated her, made her question her own thoughts. The bruises that never came from fists but from the slow, insidious erosion of her confidence. Five years of that. Five years of gaslighting, of control masked as love, of manipulation so subtle she didn't even see it until it was too late.

Her stomach twisted.

Antonio was nothing like Ethan—he didn't need to manipulate people to control them. He did it through power alone. And that was almost worse.

She hated that he thought he could dictate her next move. That he could order her to come with him like she belonged to him.

She suddenly scoffed under her breath, shaking her head.

Antonio, who had been scrolling through his phone, glanced at her. "Something funny?"

Jasmine exhaled, tilting her head to look at him. "I was just thinking how ironic this is."

He arched a brow. "What is?"

She gave him a dry smile. "That I spent five years trying to free myself from a man who thought he could control me, only to end up in another car with a man doing the exact same thing."

Antonio's expression darkened, his grip tightening around his phone.

"Is that what you think this is?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "That I'm controlling you?"

She met his gaze, refusing to back down. "Aren't you?"

Antonio didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, studying her with an unreadable expression. "Who was he?"

Jasmine tensed. "Who?"

"The man you're comparing me to." His voice was quieter now, but there was a sharpness beneath the surface.

She hesitated before answering. "Ethan." She didn't offer a last name. He didn't deserve it.

Antonio nodded once, as if committing the name to memory. "What did he do?"

Jasmine scoffed, looking away. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

His response was immediate, his tone unwavering. It made her chest tighten.

She swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. "He made me believe I needed him," she said after a moment. "That I was weak without him. That no one else would understand me."

Antonio was silent, waiting for her to continue.

She hesitated before adding, "He didn't hit me, if that's what you're asking. But he… he knew how to break me in other ways."

A muscle ticked in Antonio's jaw. He looked away for the first time that night, his fingers tapping idly against his knee.

"I take it you got away," he finally said.

Jasmine let out a humorless laugh. "I had to rebuild myself from scratch." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It took me years to feel like I could breathe again."

Antonio's gaze flicked back to her, and for the first time, she saw something unfamiliar in his expression. Not pity. Not sympathy.

Understanding.

She didn't know what to do with that.

The silence stretched between them until Antonio spoke again.

"Did he ever try to come back?"

Jasmine's jaw tightened. "No. He knew better."

Antonio nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. Then, after a long pause, he said, "You're wrong, by the way."

She frowned. "About what?"

He turned to her fully, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I'm not controlling you, Jasmine. I'm protecting you."

She held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception.

But she found none.

Jasmine exhaled, leaning back against the leather seat. She didn't want to admit it, but maybe—just maybe—Antonio Romano wasn't the biggest threat to her after all.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, she wasn't fighting alone.