LOGIN(In this chapter, Ava will only be referred to as Serena Morales when the context is about Alexander’s wife otherwise she will be referred as “Ava/Miss Alvarez”, the designer)
---
Ava jolted back to reality, her heart racing. She quickly straightened up, putting distance between them.
Alexander, still leaning against the couch, remained still, eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was exhaustion—but for a brief moment, she wondered if he had even been awake.
Her cheeks burned.
Hurriedly, she pulled the blanket over him, barely taking a breath before making her escape.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Alexander’s eyes flickered open. He glanced upward, a shadow of confusion in his gaze. But almost as quickly, he shut them again, dismissing the moment as a drunken dream.
Outside the hotel, the cool night breeze helped Ava collect herself.
Her fingers brushed over her lips.
The first time had been during that ridiculous truth-or-dare game—a deliberate, thirty-second kiss. This time, it had lasted mere seconds. Short, but far more intense.
She let out a heavy sigh.
What the hell was that?
For her sake, she prayed he wouldn’t remember.
The last thing she needed was another misunderstanding, especially now that she was about to ask for his help.
---The next morning, Ava had nothing to do.
With all her contracts canceled, there was no point in preparing for Charleston until she resolved the mess in New York.
By 11 a.m., she decided Alexander should be sober enough for a call.
On the other end, Alexander was in the middle of a meeting. He glanced at the caller ID, something flickering in his gaze.
Then, without hesitation, he silenced his phone and gestured for the executives to continue.
Ava, hearing the automated voicemail message, frowned.
Busy? Ignoring me?
Unable to wait, she decided to go to the Vanderbilt family office herself.
There, Jonathan greeted her. "The president is in meetings until five, but he’ll have a thirty-minute break at two. You can wait in his office."
Left with no other option, she sat and waited.
Thirty minutes later, the office door opened. She quickly stood up—only to find herself face-to-face with Diana.
Her stomach dropped.
Diana’s expression was cool, amused even. "Ava, are you aware that Alexander is married?"
Ava’s hands clenched.
Diana set her bag down and continued, "Do you need me to call his wife? There was already an incident in your studio with Patty. Do you really want another one? If this keeps up, no one in this industry will dare to work with you."
It was clear—Diana knew about Patty.
She also knew how easily Ava’s reputation could be destroyed.
"Mrs. Richardson, I can explain—"
Diana ignored her, pulling out her phone. "Father, give me Serena, Alexander’s wife’s number. I need to speak with her."
Serena.
Ava felt her pulse quicken.
Diana had never met Alexander’s wife, but Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. had spoken highly of her. Now, Diana intended to involve her directly.
Diana’s tone was calm, but her intent was firm. She had never met Alexander's so-called wife, but the old man had always spoken highly of her. If she was as reasonable as he claimed, then she needed to step in.
After all, someone was openly interfering with Alexander, and worse—he had allowed it. Letting Ava sit in his office like that? It was unacceptable.
Diana wasn’t one to meddle in his personal affairs, but Alexander was a married man. If word of this got out, the Vanderbilt family would be thrown into chaos. The others would start stirring up trouble, and she needed to put an end to it before it escalated.
If Alexander hadn't admitted it himself, Diana would never have even considered the possibility of him being involved in a one-night stand. That wasn’t like him. If there was another woman, it should have been Victoria—at least that would have made some sense.
Victoria was an old flame, someone Diana could understand. But this? A designer with a questionable reputation? It was unacceptable.
On the other end of the line, Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. frowned. Until now, no one in the family had ever asked for Serena’s contact information. Diana had never inquired about it before either. But now? Something was off.
His eyes narrowed as his mind immediately ran through the possibilities. "Diana," his voice came sharp and laced with suspicion. "Is Alexander messing around outside?"
Diana hesitated.
That single pause was all it took for the old man to confirm his worst suspicions. A deep, thunderous bang echoed through his office as he slammed his hand onto the table.
"Tell that brat to get back here immediately!" he roared then coughed loudly before continuing, "I want to see him within thirty minutes!"
Diana inwardly winced. If I had known he’d react this way, I wouldn’t have made the call.
Still, there was no turning back.
Leaving Ava behind, she strode toward the conference room.
---The meeting was abruptly cut short.
Alexander, frowning, listened to Jonathan’s whisper before sighing.
He already had a feeling what this was about.
Before leaving, he glanced at Ava.
"If you’re in a hurry, wait at my hotel tonight."
The statement was straightforward, but to Diana, who overheard, it sounded like an admission of guilt.
Her jaw tightened.
---By the time Alexander arrived at the Vanderbilt estate, Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. was already waiting.
"You bastard!" The old man’s voice shook with fury. "KNEEL!"
Alexander hesitated for only a second before obeying.
The butler silently handed the old man a whip.
Without another word, the first lash landed hard across Alexander’s back.
Pain burned through him, but he remained silent.
"You—" Another strike. "—dare—" A third. "—to cheat on Serena?"
Alexander’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move.
The strikes continued, one after another, leaving angry red welts across his back.
From a distance, Grace gasped, eyes wide.
"Father—!"
"Shut up!" Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. barked. "No one pleads for this brat!"
He turned back to Alexander, breathing heavily. "Do you think marriage is a joke? Serena is your wife! And you—!"
Another snap of the whip. Blood seeped through Alexander’s shirt.
Grace wanted to intervene, but she knew better.
Minutes passed before the old man finally threw the whip aside, exhausted. His body trembled, his breath ragged.
Still kneeling, Alexander remained composed.
The old man exhaled, shaking his head.
"I don’t care how you feel about her," he said finally. "You’ve consummated this marriage. You have a duty to her. I won’t tell Serena about this, but you owe her an apology. Buy her a gift. Make it up to her. And if I ever hear about another woman again—"
A cold, furious glint flashed in his eyes.
"—you won’t just be the one paying for it."
Alexander’s stomach twisted.
For some reason, the thought of Serena being punished for something she had nothing to do with… unsettled him.
"Get out!" the old man snapped. "(Cough, cough.) And buy her something nice."
With that, he turned away, signaling that the conversation was over.
Alexander stood, his back throbbing in pain.
Diana offered him his coat. He didn’t take it. Instead, he looked at the old man one last time and said, "Take care of your health, Grandfather."
The old man scoffed. "I’ll live to be a hundred, you ungrateful brat."
Alexander said nothing as he started walking away.
Just as Alexander turned to leave, Mr. Vanderbilt Sr.’s voice rang out once more, firm and unwavering.
"Buy Serena a gift. You owe her for this disgrace. Even if she remains unaware, you still need to make amends."
Alexander's jaw tightened. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, but he showed no outward resistance.
He already wanted nothing to do with that woman—now, he was expected to compensate her?
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
A beat passed before he finally responded, his tone devoid of warmth.
"Alright."
---
Once they got out of The Vanderbilt Villa gates, Diana caught up with Alexander and sighed, "Xander, I didn’t think Father would get so mad. I’m really sorry.”
"Aunt Diana, this isn’t on you. It’s between Ava and me,” Alexander said coldly.
Diana’s face turned cold at the mention of Ava. "Look, I don’t mean to butt in, but you’ve already been whipped. Just let it go and break it off with her. Who knows what Cornelius Vanderbilt will do next time, and she might get caught up in it too.”
Alexander replied, "Aunt, I know what I’m doing.
Diana knew pushing it further would just make things worse, so she stayed quiet.
When he got into his car, he barely touched the seat. The pain radiated through his spine, making it unbearable to lean back.
His phone rang. It was Ava.
"Mr. Vanderbilt, I’m at the hotel. Are you coming back tonight?"
His grip on the wheel tightened. Cold sweat formed at his temple.
"Mm."
His voice was flat as he hung up.
Ava waited in the hallway, relieved when she finally saw him approaching.
"Mr. Vanderbilt, I wanted to discuss—"
Ignoring her, he swiped his keycard and stepped inside.
She followed, closing the door behind them.
Something felt off.
A faint, metallic scent lingered in the air.
Her brows furrowed.
Was that… blood?
Alexander casually removed his jacket but hesitated when he remembered she was there. Instead, he lowered himself onto the couch.
"Did my aunt interfere with your orders?"
Ava blinked.
He remembered.
"Yes," she admitted.
"Did your studio take a hit?"
Her heart warmed slightly at the unexpected question. "It’s alright, but because I wasn’t very well-liked there to begin with, some designers are upset with me."
Alexander exhaled. "I’ll handle it. My aunt won’t bother you again."
Relief washed over her. "Thank you, Mr. Vanderbilt."
For a moment, there was silence.
A heavy, lingering tension.
Ava quickly stood. "I won’t disturb—"
A knock at the door interrupted her.
"President, is your injury alright?"
It was Jonathan.
A first-aid kit in hand.
Ava froze. Injury?
Her eyes darted to Alexander, realization dawning.
That faint scent of blood. The stiffness in his movements.
He was hurt.
Upon closer inspection, Ava noticed the faint sheen of sweat on Alexander’s forehead and the unnatural pallor of his lips. Something was wrong.
Jonathan, who had just entered with a first aid kit, paused in surprise when he saw her. He hadn't expected Ava to be here. Seizing the opportunity, he turned to her with a hopeful smile.
"Miss Alvarez, since you’re already here, could you help the President with his medication? You’re more meticulous than I am, and your hands are gentler," he said smoothly, setting the medicine box down.
Ava hesitated. Alexander had helped her multiple times—how could she refuse now?
Without waiting for a reply, Jonathan conveniently found an excuse to leave. He had seen this woman in the President’s presence far too often for it to be a coincidence. Something was definitely going on between them. But whether it would develop further? That depended entirely on Alexander...
It had been three days since Colton’s grand birthday banquet, and the gossip still hadn’t died down.Even those who hadn’t been there in person had heard about the scene that unfolded—about Serena, her parents, and the shocking revelation of her background.In New York’s upper circles, news like this spread faster than perfume in a ballroom—and lingered longer than scandal should. The elite could forgive crimes of passion, even financial ruin, but origins were another matter.And in this circle, bloodlines were currency. [Her mom used to be a prostitute, then married after quitting. Her dad’s been to prison, and her brother’s still behind bars. Isn’t that a whole family of criminals?][Alexander must be hypnotized by her. Why else would he be interested in such a low-born woman?][Please, Chiara’s status is leagues above hers. Anyone with sense would choose Chiara in a heartbeat.]The messages bounced from one private group chat to another, whispered in lounges and at charity teas.N
Alexander gently stroked Serena’s back, his touch firm yet careful, as if afraid she might break apart beneath his fingers. She clung to him in silence, her breathing uneven, her face buried against his chest.When they finally returned to the Manhattan Villa, the city had grown quiet under a curtain of late-night drizzle. He drew her a warm bath, helping her undress and steadying her trembling hands. The faint scent of lavender soap filled the air, softening the tension that lingered between them.After she slipped into the bath, Alexander stepped out, closing the door behind him with quiet restraint. He descended to the first floor and stood near the open balcony doors, the cold November air brushing against his skin. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag, the ember glowing faintly against the dark.The phone in his pocket buzzed. It was Colton.“I’ve looked into Elliot and Quinn,” Colton began, his voice low and grave. “They might be working for someone, but their background in
Serena’s heart lurched in disbelief. Kissing me here? In front of everyone? Has he lost his mind?Her thoughts flared, but before she could push him away, Alexander broke the kiss. He didn’t let her go, though—his hand slipped to the small of her back, drawing her firmly into his chest as if to shield her from the stares around them. His scent—clean, faintly woodsy, familiar—wrapped around her in a confusing comfort.At that exact moment, Colton approached from behind, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. The chatter that had filled the room just moments ago had died out completely. Every pair of eyes was locked on them, mouths parted in stunned silence.“What’s going on?” Colton asked, his brows furrowing slightly at the frozen scene before him.Alexander’s voice was calm, even casual. “She’s late,” he said, his arm still around Serena. “Allow me to introduce her properly—Serena is my girlfriend.”The words dropped into the room like a thunderclap.For a moment, no o
Alexander stood silently in the doorway, his tall figure framed by the golden light spilling from the chandelier. His mere presence seemed to draw the air out of the room—sharp, heavy, commanding. He didn’t say a word, yet the tension shifted instantly.Across the room, Quinn froze. Her face drained of color before she quickly ducked behind Elliot, clutching the sleeve of his jacket like a terrified child.“Elliot… you talk to him,” she whispered, her voice trembling.But Elliot wasn’t much braver. The moment his gaze met Alexander’s cold, expressionless eyes, his knees nearly buckled. Everyone could feel it—the oppressive aura that came with Alexander Vanderbilt’s arrival. His silence spoke louder than anyone’s words.Elliot’s lips twitched before he finally stammered, “Serena, y-you’d better give us an explanation!”Serena stood across from them, her posture straight but her hands slightly trembling. Until Alexander walked in, she had felt cornered—trapped between humiliation and he
Quinn and Elliot had been waiting in the service corridor for nearly an hour, pacing back and forth like restless hens. But the moment Serena appeared at the entrance of the hall, Quinn lit up as if she'd spotted prey.“Serena!” she screeched, her voice slicing through the quiet elegance of the space—loud enough to bounce off every marble pillar.Quinn and Elliot never imagined they would step foot in a place like this. Dorian had told them—quite proudly—that every guest invited tonight had a net worth of at least two billion dollars. Quinn didn’t even know how many zeros were in a billion; she only knew it sounded like a number that could change her life.As they were escorted in earlier, the two of them gaped openly at the sprawling estate. The villa stood like a castle, with glittering glass windows towering over manicured lawns. A massive swimming pool shimmered under golden lights, and beyond it stretched an endless expanse of green.They didn’t know what a golf course was. To th
Serena pushed herself upright from the couch, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain as she pulled it back just enough to see outside.The street was still swarming.Hundreds of fans pressed against metal barricades, their signs flashing under the streetlamps. Phones glittered like a constellation of artificial stars, pointed toward Serena’s window as if waiting for her to appear. The noise—shouting, chanting, camera shutters, security radios crackling—merged into a suffocating wall of sound.At least the worst of the frenzy had died down; security had begun pushing the crowd back meter by meter. For the first time all afternoon, people inside the building could actually step outside safely.“Ms. Morales,” Marilyn called softly, her voice breaking the heavy moment, “it’s seven. We really do need to leave now.”Serena pressed her lips together, drawing in a slow breath before turning. Whitney was curled on the bed, still pale, still shaken.“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be b







