Marla’s POV

There was nothing I could do when Jason decided to take Chestnut and get ready for the race. I crossed my arms, watching him with a sinking feeling in my chest. I knew this was all for show. Shane, his mistress, was here, and he was putting on a performance. They thought I didn’t know about them, but I knew everything.

When the signal went off, the race began, and the horses bolted forward. Jason rode Chestnut with his usual confidence, while Shane stood beside me, clapping and yelling like a cheerleader.

"Go, Jason! Go, Chestnut!" she shouted, her voice grating on my nerves.

The way Shane cheered for Jason felt too comfortable, too practiced. It was clear she’d been in this position before, rooting for him like she belonged by his side.

Suddenly, gasps erupted from the crowd. My heart dropped as I focused back on the race. Chestnut was struggling. His pace slowed, his legs faltered, and then he stumbled, throwing Jason off to the ground.

“Oh my gosh!” Shane screamed, rushing toward Jason without a moment’s hesitation.

I stayed where I was, watching the scene unfold. Deep down, I thought he deserved it.

Minutes later, Shane returned, clinging to Jason like a lifeline, her arm wrapped around his waist. Jason’s face remained stoic, his presence commanding despite what had just happened. He walked with deliberate steps, ignoring the medical team tending to Chestnut as if it didn’t matter.

“This is your fault!” Shane snapped suddenly, spinning toward me and pointing a finger.

“You’re the one taking care of the horse, aren’t you? No wonder this happened—you’re neglecting him!”

Her voice was sharp, but her accusation didn’t faze me. I raised my hands, not out of guilt but frustration.

“What are you talking about?” I said sharply. “That horse was handed to me today.”

Before I could say more, Jason’s cold, firm voice cut through.

“Enough.”

I froze. His gaze shifted to Shane, silencing her immediately. His tone didn’t rise, but the authority in it was undeniable.

He leaned closer to Shane, speaking in low tones I couldn’t hear, and she nodded, still looking upset. Jason then turned to me briefly, his eyes narrowing as if daring me to say another word. I didn’t.

Minutes later, Chestnut was back on the field, looking far too weak to be running again.

“Chestnut, go!” Shane yelled, bouncing with excitement.

Jason’s attention was fully on the horse now, his posture relaxed but deliberate. He didn’t rush. Instead, he stood still, waiting for the animal to approach him, and it did, obediently.

I noticed the way Jason interacted with Chestnut. His movements were precise, almost calculated. It wasn’t kindness—it was control. Even the horse seemed to understand who held the power here.

Shane, hovering beside him, asked softly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jason gave her a glance, but he smiled at her, a genuine smile I never received from him, “I’m fine.”

She brushed her hand against his arm, her touch lingering. Jason allowed it for a moment before running his fingers through her hair, as if he owned her. Their gazes locked, and the connection between them was obvious.

Watching them, my chest tightened with anger.

The race organizers announced a break, and people began to wander around. I thought about sitting next to Jason, but Shane beat me to it, slipping into the seat beside him like it was her rightful place.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” she asked sweetly, though she didn’t wait for an answer.

I stayed quiet, biting back the urge to lash out. Let her act like she was winning. I knew better than to challenge Jason openly in public.

As soon as Shane sat down, she grabbed Jason’s hand without hesitation, intertwining her fingers with his. What angered me even more is that he didn’t pull away. He let her.

The whispers from the crowd reached my ears, sharp and cruel.

“Isn’t Jason engaged to Marla? Why does it look like there’s something between him and Shane?” someone murmured.

“Why isn’t Marla saying anything? Doesn’t she care?” another voice added.

I swallowed the shame building inside me. Their judgment felt like a weight pressing down on me.

The speakers boomed, cutting through the murmurs.

“Everyone, we have an announcement! There’s going to be another racing competition. Riders, get ready and prepare your horses!”

The energy picked up again as people gathered in excitement. Shane turned to Jason, her voice dripping with smugness.

“I placed a $50,000 bet to support Marla’s horse!” she said, loud enough for me to hear.

Her tone made my blood boil, and her smirk was infuriating when she glanced at me.

“Thanks,” I said flatly, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted.

Inside, I was agitated. Let her brag. Let her think she had the upper hand.

It wouldn’t last forever.

Marla’s POV

Suddenly, an announcement echoed through the air: "The second race will now begin!"

Without hesitation, Jason stood up, his presence commanding as ever. Shane clapped enthusiastically beside him, her excitement almost nauseating.

Jason mounted Chestnut with a single, fluid motion. His authority was unshakable, and despite my irritation, I couldn’t deny that he looked completely in control.

“Go, Jason!” Shane cheered loudly, as if she were his personal cheerleader.

Chestnut started strong, taking an early lead. But halfway through the race, it became obvious something was wrong. The horse looked tired, its pace slowing. Jason’s expression turned cold, his frustration visible even from a distance. Despite his efforts, Chestnut only managed to finish in third place.

As Jason dismounted, Shane spun toward me, her eyes blazing.

"You’re not taking proper care of your horse! Chestnut always looks exhausted! You’re such a lazy owner!"

With Jason not nearby, I refused to back down. Raising an eyebrow, I gave Shane a look that could cut glass.

"You don’t know a damn thing," I snapped. "So shut your mouth before I make you regret it."

Shane blinked, stunned by my boldness, but she quickly recovered, her face twisting with anger. Before either of us could escalate further, Jason appeared, his sharp gaze immediately silencing the tension.

"What the hell is going on here? Are you two fighting?" His voice was calm, but the dominance in it was unmistakable.

I clenched my fists, shooting Shane one last glare before turning to face Jason. But before I could speak, Shane jumped in, her tone sharp.

"You’re only in third place, Jason, and I just spent $50,000 betting on you!"

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret.

Jason didn’t flinch. Instead, he shrugged, his tone cold and decisive. "Then I’ll buy the horse that came in first place. Problem solved."

His words weren’t directed at Shane—they were aimed at me. His icy blue eyes locked on mine, as if he wanted to offer some twisted version of reassurance.

But I wasn’t having it. "I’ll check on Chestnut," I said flatly, turning on my heel before either of them could say another word.

I made my way to the horse farm, my anger simmering beneath the surface. Chestnut stood in his stall, looking utterly drained. I grabbed some feed and gently placed it in front of him, feeling a pang of guilt for the way he was being used.

As I fed him, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Are you Jason’s fiancée?" a woman’s voice asked.

I turned around, recognizing her as the farm’s administrator.

"Yes. Why?"

She hesitated, then gave a small smile, as if what she was about to say wasn’t important.

"Oh, nothing. It’s just… Chestnut was sold. Jason arranged it earlier today."

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch.

"W-What?"

She shrugged, as though it was just business. "The horse that won first place? That’s going to replace Chestnut. Jason made the deal right after the race."

I stared at her, unable to process what I’d just heard.

"Jason loved that horse," she added thoughtfully. "But, well… I guess he loves winning more."

"Where is he now?" I asked, my voice low but steady.

"In the VIP lounge, I think. He’s with someone—"

I didn’t wait for her to finish. The anger inside me had reached its boiling point. I stormed off toward the VIP lounge, each step fueled by frustration and disbelief.

When I reached the door, I noticed it was slightly open.

"Jason!" I called out, but my voice faltered as I heard something inside.

I froze.

"Oh, Jason!" Shane’s voice rang out, breathless and filled with desire.

"Oh, fuck, Shane. You’re so fucking delicious." Jason’s voice was low, guttural, and unmistakable.

My heart stopped. I stepped back, the reality of what was happening crashing down on me. The sounds—the slap of skin, the wet noises, the moans—left no room for doubt.

I stood there, paralyzed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Every part of me screamed to turn away, to leave, but I couldn’t move.

My world shattered in that moment, and all I could do was stand there, drowning in the betrayal.

Marla’s POV

“Jason! Ahh!”

“Shane! Fuck! I’m cumming!”

The pain I felt from what I was hearing was unbearable. I couldn’t see it, but I could imagine what was happening to them. That image, that feeling—it hurt deep inside. At that moment, I knew what I had to do—I made the decision to cut them off completely.

I walked back to the administrator, my mind a mess, and then I saw Chestnut. Even though it wasn’t easy, I couldn’t help but feel attached to Chestnut in some way. After all, the poor horse was being dragged into all this chaos. I didn’t want the first-place horse that Jason bought for me. I just wanted it to go back to its original owner.

“Please, just give it back to the original owner,” I said. My voice echoed with anger and pain. Before I left, I warned them, “Before Jason asks, tell him it was my order.”

I turned around before anyone could respond.

When I returned to the mansion, everyone was surprised to see me come back by myself. “Lady Marla, where’s Lord Jason?” they asked, but I didn’t answer any of their questions. I just walked straight to our room.

Once inside, I let everything go. I started tearing apart everything that had anything to do with him. His things—his figurines, his clothes—I threw them around, ripping them apart. Even the gifts he gave me. The shoes, the bags—everything. I wanted it all gone!

I walked out, and the servants were standing there, watching me. It was like they could hear the destruction I was causing inside. “What? Why are you staring?!” I shouted at them. They all flinched, scared, and immediately ran off in all directions. But I wasn’t done. I wasn’t satisfied yet.

I went to the living room and smashed the TV, destroyed everything he owned—anything I knew he’d bought with his money. It was all chaos. The maids and servants could only watch, helpless, as I raged through the house.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Then, I saw him—Matthew. He stood there, watching me, probably trying to figure out what to say. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a cold stare.

“Proceed according to the plan,” I whispered.

Matthew was taken aback by what I said. “Are you sure, Lady Marla?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I replied, my voice loud, even though I couldn’t stop myself from yelling. “I’ll make him regret this! I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done!”

I was determined. My plan was simple: I would make it look like I had been in a car accident. I knew it would shake him, and Matthew could sense the intensity in my words.

“Yes, Lady Marla. I’ll arrange everything,” Matthew responded, bowing his head as if he had no choice but to follow my lead.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I had to keep my composure, even though I could feel the madness creeping in. But... I had loved him. And in the end, it was only pain that was left.

I told the servants to clean up the mess, and it didn’t take long for Jason to storm into the mansion. His footsteps echoed through the hall, sharp and deliberate. When he saw me, he walked straight toward me, his expression dark and unreadable, though there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes.

"Why did you leave without a word?" His tone wasn’t frantic—it was sharp, cold, and demanding. "And why didn’t you accept the first-place horse I arranged for you?"

There was no warmth in his voice, just a calculated edge. He didn’t care about me or the horses. This was about him—his pride, his image.

"I don’t care about horse racing," I said firmly, my voice icy. "And I don’t care about that horse."

For a moment, he just stared at me. His piercing gaze bore into mine, as if he were dissecting me, trying to measure how far he could push. But I didn’t flinch. I kept my expression cold, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing what I was thinking.

Then, without warning, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. His grip was firm, almost possessive, and his voice dropped to a low murmur. "You don’t have to care about the races or the horses," he said. "But you will care about me. And I’ll make sure of it."

His words weren’t a promise—they were a command.

I pull my arm free and shoved him back, glaring at him. "Do whatever you want, Jason," I said with disdain, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside me.

He didn’t react, his face a mask of calm authority. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show his emotions. He was the kind of man who didn’t need to win arguments—he controlled them.

"Dinner’s ready," I added, my tone cutting, before turning my back on him and walking away.

You’ll see my vengeance, Jason. You’ll regret this.