* FREEBIES * Chapter 140 : If there was nothing between us… you wouldn’t even get to see me.

Ava reached for the car door handle but hesitated, her fingers lingering against the cool metal. With a deep breath, she sank back into her seat, turning to Alexander. "Mr. Vanderbilt, if Miss Victoria Laurent comes after me again… can I still count on you for help?"

Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable weight behind her words. She wasn’t asking lightly. The Morales family couldn’t compete with the power and influence of the Laurents, let alone the Vanderbilts. Victoria was his girlfriend, and with his support, she could become even more ruthless.

Alexander’s hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze unreadable. A silence stretched between them before he finally spoke. "Why do you think I would take your side?"

Ava met his stare, determined. "It’s not about taking sides. It’s about doing what’s right. At least I never provoked Miss Laurent. She’s the one who sees me as a rival—even though, between you and me, Mr. Vanderbilt, there’s nothing going on."

The moment the words left her lips, she noticed a shift in his expression. His eyes darkened, sharp and assessing. The weight of his stare made her swallow hard.

He leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "How do you have the nerve to say there’s nothing going on?"

Ava felt her breath hitch. Her cheeks burned, her earlier confidence crumbling under his piercing gaze.

Alexander exhaled, turning his focus forward again, his fingers tightening subtly on the wheel. "I’m helping you because there is something between us."

Her heart skipped a beat, his words reverberating through her like a whispered secret she wasn’t ready to hear. The tension in the car thickened, charged with something unspoken.

"Ava," he continued, his voice low, certain. "If there was nothing between us… you wouldn’t even get to see me."

The truth in his statement sent a ripple through her, leaving her momentarily lost. Alexander Vanderbilt didn’t waste his time on just anyone. He wouldn’t be here, in this moment, with her, if she meant nothing.

Before she could gather a response, the door on her side clicked open. "Get out," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

Still dazed, Ava stepped out, her mind a blur of thoughts. By the time she turned to say something, the sleek black car had already pulled away, its taillights glowing like distant embers against the night.

She stood motionless for a moment before sighing and pressing a hand to her forehead. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like the world had momentarily shifted.

Even as she made her way inside and splashed cool water on her face, the weight of the moment lingered. The flirtation, the intensity—it clung to her skin, refusing to wash away.

After stepping out of the shower, the cool air of the room wrapped around Ava’s damp skin. She ran a towel through her hair as she picked up her phone, its screen glowing with a new message from Rachel.

Rachel: "What's going on? I heard Alexander sent Michelle out of the country, caused a huge scene at the Laurent family estate, and even Victoria stepped in. Now Michelle's on a plane and won’t be able to return to New York for the rest of her life. Ava, do you think he's finally coming to his senses? Is this a sudden enlightenment? Is he actually going to end things with Victoria?!"

Ava let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. If only Rachel knew the truth. But she couldn’t tell her that she had played a part in all of this.

Before she could even type a response, another message popped up.

Rachel: "If Alexander and Victoria are having problems, this is the perfect time for you to make a move! You don’t know how many people have been gossiping about them tonight. Victoria is furious—she even posted on social media claiming their relationship is ‘strong as ever.’ Ava, listen to me. Go back to Ashbourne Manor right now, put on something sexy, and wait for him. Trust me, with your body and that face, Alexander won’t be able to resist! Then Victoria won’t stand a chance!"

Ava sighed, rubbing her temples as if she could physically push away Rachel’s relentless scheming. She could hear the urgency in her friend’s words even through the phone.

She exhaled and typed back:

Ava: "Rachel, I’m a little tired. I think I’ll just rest for now."

Rachel hesitated, then responded after a few seconds.

Rachel: "Fine. I get it. With everything happening in the Morales family, you probably have a lot on your mind. Just… don’t miss your chance, okay?"

Ava put her phone down, staring at the ceiling for a moment. She could still feel the warmth of the shower clinging to her skin, but beneath it, a strange coldness settled in her chest.

Was Alexander really coming to his senses? Or was this just another shift in a game where she had never truly known the rules?

She reached for the bedside lamp, turning it off. The room sank into darkness, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Ava slept soundly that night, oblivious to the turmoil brewing elsewhere. Others, however, were not so fortunate—especially the Morales family.

Valentina had meticulously orchestrated a clash between Ava and Victoria, expecting nothing short of total destruction between the two women. She had been present at the hospital earlier, witnessing Michelle’s desperate attempt to stab Ava, and she had relished in the chaos that had unfolded. She had envisioned an explosive fallout, a spectacle that would see Ava humiliated and the Laurents dragged into scandal.

But the night had taken an unexpected turn.

Instead of the disaster she had anticipated, Alexander had stood by Ava’s side. He had shielded her, defended her. The realization struck Valentina like a dagger to the chest. How? How could that nobody, that pathetic woman who had been cast aside for years, now have Alexander Vanderbilt standing in her corner?

Her jealousy burned hot, glowing in her eyes like embers stoked into flames. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was personal.

Valentina clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She had merely wanted to reap the benefits of the Morales family's downfall, but now she felt something far stronger—a seething, uncontrollable hatred.

Ava's life was too charmed, too undeserved. The husband she had stumbled upon, by nothing more than dumb luck, was Alexander Vanderbilt. And he wasn’t indifferent to her. No, that was the most unbearable part. He actually cared for her.

No.

Valentina refused to let this continue. If Ava remained at Alexander’s side, she would become untouchable. There would be nothing left for Valentina.

Her heart pounded with rage as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Outside her room, the sound of glass shattering pierced through the air. Josh had been like this for days—short-tempered, explosive, unraveling at the seams.

Valentina smoothed her hair, gathering herself before stepping out.

Josh stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving with fury. The broken remnants of a vase lay at his feet, shards glistening under the dim light. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists.

"Brother," Valentina said, her voice smooth and coaxing. "Don't lose your temper yet. Michelle is out of the country now, Alexander is clearly siding with Ava, but we still have a chance."

Josh let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "A chance? Do you even understand what’s happening?" His voice was thick with frustration. "Dad is in the hospital because he caught Mom and Kenny. Cheating."

Valentina’s eyes widened. She had known Alfonso was hospitalized, but she hadn’t known why. Her stomach twisted as she processed the implications.

Josh continued, his tone dripping with bitterness. "When Dad wakes up, we’re finished. Mom’s shares will be revoked. Everything will go to Ava. The Morales business will be hers alone!"

Valentina’s breath hitched. That couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen.

She had fought too hard to climb out of the gutter. She had worn rags once. Lived in filth. She was never going back.

Her nails tapped against the wooden frame of the doorway as she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to think. "Mom still has influence over Dad, doesn’t she?" she asked, voice low and calculated.

Josh gave a sharp nod. "She was planning to make sure he never wakes up. But Ava hired two damn bodyguards. No one's been able to get close to him." He let out a heavy breath, rubbing his temples. "And now, Kenny is in the hospital too. I'm starting to wonder if someone knew about him and Mom this whole time and was just waiting to strike."

Valentina's stomach twisted again. If there were another hand at play in this, things could spiral out of control.

Still, she had no time to waste worrying about that.

A slow, knowing smile crept onto her lips. "Then we make things messy for Ava. The grandparents—send them to the hospital. Have them demand to see Dad. Those bodyguards might be good at their job, but they can’t be seen roughing up frail, grieving old people. If one of them gets even a scratch, it’ll be Ava’s problem."

Josh’s face darkened before a slow smirk formed. He let out a low chuckle. "That’s... not bad. We need disruptions, distractions." His grin faded, his voice turning sharp. "But let’s be clear. In order for us to keep our place in this family, Dad has to go."

Neither of them flinched at the words.

Josh had long lost any affection for Alfonso. His mind was clouded with resentment, frustration, and the lingering humiliation of his own impotence. He wanted Ava ruined. He wanted control. That was all that mattered.

Valentina?

Her thoughts were singular, razor-sharp.

She wanted Alexander.

She didn’t care about the Morales business. She didn’t care about Josh or Michelle. The only thing she cared about was that Ava had what she wanted—and that was something she would never allow.

With Alfonso out of the way, the game would reset.

And when it did, Valentina would make sure that Alexander Vanderbilt belonged to her. 

---------

On the outskirts of New York City, in a modest two-story home, Ricardo and Martina sat anxiously at the worn dining table, their eyes locked on Sergio as he stepped through the front door. The dim overhead light flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the room. Martina wrung her hands together, unable to mask her impatience.

"Sergio, how did it go? Did the bank approve the application?" she asked, her voice sharp with urgency.

Sergio sighed heavily as he set his briefcase down on the counter. The weight of the past few weeks had settled into the lines on his forehead. He was a man in his late forties, caught in the relentless cycle of supporting aging parents, raising two sons, and constantly dreading the next round of layoffs at work.

His younger brother, Alfonso, had once been the only other real prospect in the family, but their parents had made a choice long ago. Back then, the family barely had enough to survive, and when it came time for college, only one son could go. They chose Sergio. Alfonso, still a teenager, had been forced to work part-time jobs to cover his brother’s tuition.

And now, decades later, Sergio found himself in an uneasy position—standing on shaky ground, worrying that a pink slip could come at any moment and crush his family under the weight of their $4,500 monthly mortgage.

A few days ago, Ricardo and Martina had managed to track down Alfonso. To everyone’s shock, he was apparently wealthy beyond their imagination. They had returned home that day with an astounding $450,000 in cash—just like that. They had heard rumors that Alfonso’s in-laws, the James family, lived in a luxurious villa in the heart of New York City, and that Alfonso himself owned properties worth millions. On top of that, he was running a company?

Sergio had struggled to believe it. He had spent years grinding away in the corporate world, armed with a prestigious degree, only to find himself one step away from financial ruin. Alfonso, on the other hand—who had never even gone to college—was supposedly living in luxury? It stung.

At first, he had dismissed it as a scam. But when his parents returned with more money than he had ever seen in one place, doubt crept in. And now, standing before them, he had undeniable proof.

He cleared his throat. "Mom, the early repayment was approved. The bank took the money, and we don’t have to worry about the mortgage anymore.”

Martina’s eyes widened in delight, her lips parting in an almost giddy smile. But within moments, that excitement morphed into something else—greed.

"Alfonso’s family must be rolling in money," she mused. "They just handed over $450,000 like it was nothing. You should have seen that villa, Sergio—it’s enormous. Each floor must be thousands of square feet. We could all move in there and rent this place out!"

Sergio tensed. He was jealous, yes, but he also wasn’t blind to the reality of their relationship with Alfonso. Their parents had never so much as checked in on him over the years, let alone offered financial help. Now, suddenly, they wanted to move in? He doubted Alfonso would take them in with open arms.

"Mom," he said, keeping his tone measured, "didn’t you say Alfonso is still in a coma?"

Martina waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, but his second wife has already brought her son into the picture. If something happens to Alfonso, don’t you realize what that means? His entire fortune will go to them! He only has two daughters—Serena and Valentina. You’ve met Serena. Valentina has always been sickly. What can two daughters do? But if you let Alfonso adopt one of your sons, then at least part of the Morales family’s assets will stay with us."

Ricardo, who had been quietly nodding along, spoke up. "Exactly! What can two daughters do? Sergio, listen to your mother. You should come with us to the Morales Group. Alfonso already has a company here in New York. You’re afraid of getting laid off? Don’t be. We’ll all work at the Morales family’s business!"

Sergio felt a surge of anxiety rise in his chest. He had spent his whole life climbing the corporate ladder, always fearful of job instability. But now, hearing his parents talk about Alfonso’s wealth as if it was their birthright, he felt something different—panic. If Alfonso really was in a coma, and his second wife took control, their chance at a fortune could slip away just like that.

His face flushed red, as if the money itself was being stolen from his own hands.

Sergio had always been the favored son. Ricardo and Martina had showered him with attention, always saving the best for him while Alfonso was pushed aside. And when Alfonso had married Elena and had a daughter instead of a son, they had cared even less about him. In their eyes, Alfonso had been a dead end. But now? Now, he was their ticket to wealth.

Just as they were discussing their next move, Ricardo’s phone buzzed. He answered, listened intently, then nodded. "We need to go to the hospital now," he said, hanging up. "If we don’t show up and act like a loving family while Alfonso is unconscious, he won’t recognize us when he wakes up."

Martina pursed her lips, thinking it over, then turned to Sergio. "You stay here and wait for good news," she said. "I’ll make sure Alfonso agrees to adopt one of your boys. Once that’s done, the family’s assets will belong to your child—which means, ultimately, they’ll belong to you."

Sergio’s heart pounded. His lips parted slightly as he processed the implications. The thought of securing a future for his children—of securing his own financial stability—made his hands tremble with anticipation.

His parents were right. If Alfonso truly was as wealthy as they claimed, then securing even a small piece of his empire would be life-changing.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Good luck."

Martina smiled. "Don’t worry. We’ll make sure everything goes our way."

With that, she and Ricardo grabbed their coats and stepped out into the night, their minds already spinning with plans for the future. Sergio sat back in his chair, his mind racing.

For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

Martina and Ricardo rushed to the hospital, their urgency palpable as they pushed their way toward Alfonso’s room. Their desperation, however, was met with an unyielding blockade—two bodyguards standing like statues at the door.

“No entry,” one of them stated firmly, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Martina’s temper flared instantly. “Do you know who I am? The man inside is my son! How dare you stop me from seeing him?” Her voice rose, sharp and indignant. “What exactly are you trying to pull here? And you two—you're just bodyguards, his mere servants! Who gave you the right to defy me?”

She was used to getting her way. When words failed, she resorted to theatrics. Without hesitation, she raised a manicured hand and slapped one of the bodyguards across the face. The crack of skin against skin echoed down the hospital corridor.

The bodyguard barely flinched, his face impassive.

Martina wasn’t done. Frustrated, she shoved against his arm, but it was like pushing a brick wall. Meanwhile, Ricardo, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. With exaggerated weakness, he let himself fall dramatically to the floor, groaning as if in agony.

"Doctor!" Martina shrieked, her voice piercing. "Someone get a doctor! They're trying to kill my husband!”

People in the corridor began to murmur, drawn in by the commotion. The bodyguards exchanged glances, their patience wearing thin. One of them silently pulled out his phone and dialed Ava.

Ava had, for once, enjoyed a decent night’s sleep. But peace was fleeting, and her morning was already stacked with tasks. When her phone buzzed, she picked it up, only to hear about the chaos unfolding at the hospital.

A sigh left her lips. These two again.

Without wasting time, she grabbed her car keys and drove straight there.

The moment she stepped into the hospital lobby, the sight that greeted her was downright embarrassing. Martina and Ricardo were sprawled on the floor, screeching like wounded animals.

"Murder! Murder!" Martina howled dramatically, as if she were a tragic heroine in a play.

Ava didn’t bother masking her irritation. She crossed her arms and spoke coldly. “Had enough yet?”

Martina’s crocodile tears dried up in an instant. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Ava, and a sneer twisted her lips. “Listen to you. Is that how you talk to your elders? No respect, no manners at all. What an ungrateful child.”

Ava inhaled deeply, schooling her features into indifference. Then, her gaze flickered to the bodyguard standing stiffly at the door, a red handprint blooming on his cheek.

"Miss Morales," the bodyguards greeted her politely, knowing she was close to Shelley.

Ava tilted her head, her patience all but gone. "If they don’t stop causing a scene, throw them out the window. I’ll handle any compensation."

The bodyguards, who had endured the elderly couple’s antics for far too long, barely hesitated. They moved swiftly, gripping Martina by her arms and dragging her toward the window.

Martina’s bravado vanished in an instant.

"W-What are you doing?! You wouldn't dare!" she shrieked, kicking wildly.

Ricardo, who had still been lying on the floor for dramatic effect, suddenly turned ghostly pale. He scrambled up the moment he saw Martina dangling precariously over the ledge.

"Stop! Stop this madness!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Serena, have you lost your mind? This is a law-abiding society!”

Ava didn’t so much as blink. "Throw him out too. Every time they cause trouble, toss them both out.”

The bodyguards took her words as permission and stepped toward Ricardo.

The elderly man stiffened, realizing she wasn’t bluffing. His hands trembled as he hurriedly shouted, “Alright! We won’t make trouble anymore! Just put her down!”

Ava raised an eyebrow, considering. If he fainted from sheer terror, she’d only have more issues to deal with. After a long pause, she nodded.

The bodyguards released Martina, and she stumbled to the floor, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Ricardo clutched his chest, still cursing under his breath. “Bastard child… You’ll get your karma for this. Mark my words!”

Ava, unimpressed, merely checked the time on her watch. “You have three minutes to leave. If you come back, I guarantee you’ll be staying here permanently.”

Her tone was calm, but the weight of her words sent a shudder through Ricardo’s spine. He grabbed Martina’s arm, dragging her toward the elevator. She was too shaken to resist.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Martina collapsed against the wall, panting.

Ricardo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “We’ll go back and talk to Sergio. That girl is heartless. Just like her mother.”

Martina’s lips trembled, still too shaken to form a coherent response.

Meanwhile, Ava remained standing in the hospital corridor. She took a moment to address the onlookers, offering a brief explanation to dispel any misunderstandings. Then, she turned to the bodyguards.

"Sorry for the trouble," she said.

One of them waved her off. “It’s nothing, Miss Morales. We’re just glad it’s over.”

Ava nodded and turned her attention to the doctor. “How’s Alfonso?”

"Stable," the doctor reassured her.

A weight lifted from Ava’s shoulders. For now, that was enough.

Back at the Morales humble home, Martina and Ricardo stumbled through the front doors. Sergio, who had been pacing anxiously, immediately turned toward them.

His eyes were alight with hope. “How did it go?”

Ricardo shook his head, still rattled. “Don’t ask. Just get your mother some water first.”

Sergio frowned, confused by their shaken state. But as he moved to fetch the glass, a sense of dread settled in his gut. Whatever had happened at the hospital, it was clear—Serena wasn’t someone they could manipulate so easily anymore.