Serena hobbled down the quiet hospital corridor, her crutch tapping against the floor in an uneven rhythm. She paused outside Alexander’s room, leaning against the cold, sterile wall for support. From inside, Layla’s muffled sobs slipped through the thin crack of the door, raw and aching.Every word carried through, striking Serena’s ears like small daggers. Her fingers tightened around the crutch as memories surfaced—Alexander, with that unyielding voice of his, declaring he would marry Layla. He had even set the date for the following week.That was more than two weeks ago. The wedding hadn’t happened yet, postponed because of his condition. But Serena knew the truth: once he opened his eyes, Layla would still be waiting there to claim him. And he would choose her.Serena couldn’t understand what Alexander saw in Layla. But if he cared for her… he must have his reasons. That thought alone hollowed her chest.Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a long moment before she let it fall
The first thing Serena heard as she clawed her way back to consciousness was the murmur of unfamiliar voices, blurred yet urgent.“Ms. Morales should wake up soon.”“Her head—any damage?”“No, just a concussion. She’ll feel dizzy for a few days, but nothing permanent.”“And Mr. Vanderbilt?”“Still in the ICU. If he makes it through today, he has a chance.”The moment Alexander’s name cut through the haze, Serena’s heart lurched. Panic chased away the fog in her mind.Alexander.Images of him in the chaos slammed into her memory—his body shielding hers, the roar of the flood, the earth collapsing beneath them. His chest, his head—both wounded. And then the kiss, light but devastating, lingering on her lips like a promise made in desperation.Her throat tightened. Is he really alright?She wanted to speak, to ask, to demand answers, but her body betrayed her. Her tongue felt like lead, her chest too tight to draw enough air. Darkness pulled her under again.---When she woke next, it wa
Serena was certain she had heard Alexander’s voice echo through the stone labyrinth. Her pulse spiked with hope, but the walls of the pit she was trapped in were impossibly smooth, offering no handhold to climb her way out.Alexander, meanwhile, stood in a dim corridor not far away. In a straight line, they were close—agonizingly close—but the winding, twisting passages bent sound, making her calls ricochet in strange directions. It was as if Serena’s voice was both beside him and far away at once.“Serena!” he called, his voice hoarse with urgency.The echo carried back faintly. He broke into a run, his boots hammering against the damp floor. The passage abruptly ended at a gaping opening, and he lurched to a stop, gravel tumbling over the edge of the sheer mountainside. If he had taken one more step, the abyss would have swallowed him whole.He slammed the door shut with a curse, chest heaving. These obvious wooden doors carved into the stone walls? Nothing but death traps—each one o
Rex slowed every so often, casting quick glances over his shoulder to make sure Alexander was still on his heels. For a man fresh from injury, Alexander’s stamina was impressive; he kept stride with the dog, jaw tight, determination written all over him.By the time they reached the top of the hill, the scene carried its own heavy silence. The lawn stretched wide, freshly trimmed, but subtle signs betrayed the chaos that had taken place—patches of grass flattened, disturbed soil, the faint outline of hurried footsteps.Alexander crouched low, pushing aside a clump of damp blades. His sharp eyes caught it—a smear of blood, faint and watery, almost erased by the rain. The sight made his chest constrict like a fist had closed around his heart.Rex lowered his head, sniffing furiously. But the steady drizzle that had soaked the ground all night had muddled the scents. The dog paced in a circle, whining softly, then paused as if deciding.Alexander had already barked out orders through his
Dear Gentle Readers, This author understands the frustration over the last chapter and could only pray that you will trust this author that every chapter, every paragraph, every sentence has their own meaning and purpose. Serena may not be able to open up yet, but it is within her character’s arch. You have read from the very beginning of this story, you must have seen how each character grew naturally and evolves. Yours, E.C. ---When Serena stormed out of Manhattan Villa, she felt as though her whole body were burning. Rage coiled inside her chest, mingling with a suffocating helplessness she could barely endure. Layla’s smug talk about pregnancy echoed in her ears, colliding with Alexander’s cold words about getting rid of the child. The contradiction made her head pound violently, as if someone were striking an anvil inside her skull.Still, she didn’t forget to scoop up Max on her way out.After spending a short while cooling down at Le Châteauesque Manor, trying and failing
The hall of the Manhattan Villa was dimly lit, the amber glow of a chandelier spilling across polished marble floors. Hugo lounged on the sofa, glass in hand, while Layla perched tensely at the edge of her seat.The moment Alexander stepped through the doorway, Layla’s heart leapt. Relief washed over her features.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” she breathed, almost like a plea.She made a move toward him, but Hugo caught her wrist with casual firmness, tugging her back before she could embarrass herself.Hugo knew women. And he knew Layla especially well. The glimmer of anticipation in her eyes told him exactly what she was thinking—that Alexander had finally abandoned Serena and was here, returning to her.But Hugo also knew the man upstairs. One look at Alexander’s stormy expression, taut with unspoken confusion, was enough to know that if Layla tried to close that distance now, she’d be burned.Alexander didn’t so much as glance at them. His long strides carried him straight past, his figure sw