At six in the morning, the first pale streaks of dawn washed over New York’s skyline as Alexander’s black sedan rolled back into the city. He looked worn from the overnight drive, his sharp profile catching the cold light as one of his men leaned forward from the passenger seat.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” the man began cautiously, “we’ve confirmed it. The people who tried to take Ms. Morales out that night—they were sent by the Whitehall family.”Alexander’s dark eyes narrowed, a glint of steel cutting through his fatigue. “The Whitehall family? Beatrice?” His tone dripped with skepticism. “She’s not even important enough in that house to pull something like this.”The man shook his head. “Not Beatrice. Her brother—Edmund. Tristan Whitehall’s golden boy. The old man favors him above anyone else. And with the Whitehalls’ current heir on his deathbed, Edmund’s gearing up to take the position.”Alexander leaned back against the leather seat, jaw tightening. The Whitehalls weren’t just rivals; the
The night was heavy with silence as Serena pressed her foot on the gas. The car hummed steadily, headlights cutting through the endless stretch of dark road. From the passenger seat came the faint sound of Miriam sniffling, the kind of quiet sobs that trembled in her chest.Serena didn’t press her for words. She simply kept her focus on the road, hands steady on the wheel, giving Miriam the space to crumble without judgment.She had memorized Miriam’s address earlier, and after nearly an hour of driving, the car finally rolled into a narrow street lined with modest homes. The warm glow of light spilling through the curtains of Miriam’s house made Serena slow her breath. Her parents were still awake, waiting.Without a word, Serena reached for the box of tissues in the console and pulled one free, extending it across the console. “Wipe your face. Your parents are probably still up.”Miriam accepted it with trembling hands, dabbing at her swollen eyes. Her voice was hoarse, almost broke
The following days blurred into a haze of overwork. Serena pushed herself past exhaustion, staying late in the office two nights in a row, her desk littered with files and half-finished coffee cups.No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t reach Alexander. Each call rang into silence, and she had no idea he’d flown to Italy.She tried Jonathan too—again and again—hoping to catch some news about Rex. But his answers were always the same: Rex wasn’t at Manhattan Villa. No matter how she pressed, Jonathan gave nothing away.Left with no answers, Serena buried herself in work. But when night fell and the office lights went dark, the silence pressed harder. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind replayed one moment over and over—the night she had been rescued.That voice.Even though it had sounded slightly different, distorted somehow, it tugged at something deep in her memory. Too familiar to dismiss. The first time, she’d convinced herself it was her imagination, a produ
Italy glittered under the night sky, the streets alive with golden lights and restless energy. From the rooftop terrace, Alexander had the city spread out before him like a jewel—crowded piazzas pulsing with laughter, distant cathedral domes gleaming under the moon, and winding streets that never truly slept.He ended a call and tossed the phone aside, lifting his glass of deep red wine. The alcohol burned slightly as it slid down his throat, doing little to steady the restlessness coiling inside him. His gaze drifted over the pool beside him, the water shimmering in sapphire ripples beneath the soft glow of lanterns. A platter of fruit and chilled drinks sat untouched at the table’s edge.The scene was picture-perfect. The kind of setting made for two.If Serena were here, it would’ve been more than perfect.He could imagine her slipping into the pool, the reflection of city lights dancing across her skin. Maybe he’d steal a kiss, or two… and if she didn’t stop him, things could easi
The underground arena trembled as Alexander stepped onto the stage, his face hidden behind the cold steel of a mask. The lights above glared down, catching the edge of the black iron, casting him as both myth and menace.For a beat, the crowd was hushed. Then a deep, guttural shout split the air.“God! God!”The voice came from a hulking man in the front row, and in seconds, the chant spread like wildfire.“God! God! God!”The walls shook with the roar. Sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke thickened the air until it felt like everyone in the room was breathing the same feverish madness.Alexander’s masked figure was a legend here. Every rare appearance burned into the memory of the men who worshipped him, the women who wanted him, and the gamblers who cursed his name while losing fortunes. He never lost. Not once.Years ago, in his first notorious match, he had faced two lions at once. The crowd had bet on the beasts, their odds stacked against him. Alexander bet only on himself. By th
Serena’s lips parted, ready to snap back, but the words stuck in her throat. She remembered her promise to Lucca—his warning, his favor she had already accepted. Wes was far away in Hollywood, yet here she was, caught in a room with Alexander Vanderbilt, his presence looming over her like a storm cloud.A sharp pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She gripped the bedsheet so tightly her knuckles whitened, her nails digging into the fabric as if she could claw herself out of the moment. For a fleeting second, she hated herself—hated how torn she felt, how powerless.But no matter what, she knew the truth: she could never beat Chiara.Her voice came out low, almost defensive. “You don’t know him.”Alexander’s gaze darkened. His tone was cold enough to chill the air. “You haven’t slept with him, right?”Serena shook her head faintly. “No.”The ice in his eyes didn’t melt. He studied her as if he were peeling away her layers, searching for a lie beneath her skin. His jaw flexed, then he sh