Ruin Me Slowly

Chapter 23

Jane POV

“Carter?” I said into the phone for the third time that night.

No answer.

I stared down at the screen. Still no response. Just a few delivered texts and a growing feeling in my chest that something wasn’t right.

He said he’d be back.

He said it wouldn’t take long.

But now it was nearly midnight, and he hadn’t returned to the house, and he hadn’t called. Not even a simple, “Sorry, running late.”

The King family had slowly peeled away from the dinner table after a very awkward, very uncomfortable meal. I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and yet, my eyes stayed locked on the front door for hours.

“Maybe he’s just still at Empire,” Rosie had said earlier with that voice of hers. Calm. Icy. Unbothered.

Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she knew.

Mr. King, however, seemed more alert. More like Carter.

“I’ll drive down to Empire myself,” he said after checking his own phone. “He always answers my calls unless he’s deep in work. But it’s getting late, and you should rest, Jane.”

He looked at me kindly, and though he didn’t say much, I appreciated the offer.

“I’ll have the driver take you home,” he continued. “You need to sleep. For the babies.”

I nodded slowly, heart heavy. I didn’t want to leave without seeing Carter. But he hadn’t picked up for anyone. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe something had gone wrong at the shoot.

But Rosie… she just stood in the hallway, arms crossed, lips curled into that smug little smile I’d grown to recognize.

She knew something.

I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t have the strength.

I let the driver take me home.

I sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours, just waiting. The dress I wore to dinner still clung to my body, wrinkled now from leaning on pillows and sitting near the window.

No calls.

No texts.

No Carter.

The clock turned past 2 a.m. My eyes grew heavy.

Eventually, I gave in.

I crawled into bed, the silence too loud, and the space beside me too cold.

Click.

The front door.

I sat up in bed like a shot. Light poured in from the hallway as I heard footsteps. Slow. Heavy.

I rushed out of the bedroom, heart racing.

And there he was.

Carter.

His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, his hair messy, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck—or worse, like he drank the whole truck.

“Where were you?” I asked, my voice shaking.

He didn’t look at me. He just walked past me, shoes dragging on the floor, barely holding himself up.

“Carter?” I asked again, following him.

But he didn’t say a word.

He collapsed face-first onto the bed and mumbled something I couldn’t make out before falling asleep. Just like that.

I stood there for a full minute. Frozen.

Then I walked back to the living room, picked up my phone, and opened it.

And that’s when I saw it.

The headline.

“CARTER KING AND EMMA ZIDANE SEEN TOGETHER LAST NIGHT AT EMPIRE”

My heart stopped.

I clicked on it with shaking fingers.

Photos filled the screen.

Emma, smiling with that perfect fake pout, leaning into Carter like she owned him.

Carter, next to her. Looking… too close. Too familiar. Too drunk to know any better.

In one photo, her hand was resting on his arm.

In another, she was whispering in his ear.

And the caption?

“Late-night laughter, drinks, and chemistry—are the King and the Muse back together?”

My stomach turned.

I stared at the images, my chest tightening, my throat closing up.

I scrolled to the comments—because of course I did. Because I couldn’t stop myself.

“Didn’t he just propose to that Ellis girl?”

“Emma’s always been the one. This new fiancée won’t last.”

“Looks like the drama is just getting started.”

I felt like the ground under me was slipping.

The sound of Carter’s quiet breathing echoed from the bedroom.

And I stood in the hallway, gripping my phone, heart breaking into a million silent pieces.