DANGEROUS ADDICTION: The Woman He Couldn't Replace

"Have you ever told Regina about Rosalie?"

Nathan's question stopped Alexander halfway through signing a document.

The private hospital lounge fell silent.

This wing belonged to Kingston Memorial, one of the hospitals the family had quietly built and funded for two decades — which was the only reason Alexander had a private lounge to sit in at midnight, and the only reason Nathan had followed him here with a folder of contracts that couldn't wait until morning. Work was easier than sitting still. It always had been, for both of them.

Outside, rain slid down the enormous glass windows overlooking the city, while doctors and nurses moved quietly through the corridor beyond.

Alexander looked up slowly.

"No."

Nathan Reeves had spent four years as Alexander Kingston's Chief of Staff. In that time he had managed billion-dollar schedules, defused boardroom disasters, and learned to read his employer's silences better than most people read words. He had seen Alexander cold, calculated, and completely unreachable. None of that surprised him anymore.

What surprised him was how comfortable Alexander seemed saying it.

Six years had passed since Rosalie Hart died, yet her name still occupied spaces in Alexander's life that no one else could enter.

Not even his wife.

"Don't you think she deserves to know?" Nathan asked.

Alexander closed the file in front of him.

"There is nothing to tell."

Nathan almost disagreed.

There was plenty to tell.

Regina didn't know that Alexander still visited Rosalie's memorial every year.

She didn't know he kept a box of Rosalie's belongings locked inside his study.

She didn't know he had spent years funding private investigations into the fire that supposedly killed her.

Most importantly, she didn't know that Alexander had once intended to marry another woman long before Regina entered his life.

The silence stretched between them.

Finally, Nathan spoke again. It was the kind of question he would file under professional suicide if Alexander were in a different mood. But four years beside this man had taught him exactly how much honesty a moment could hold.

"What would happen if Rosalie had survived?"

Alexander's expression hardened immediately.

"She didn't."

"That's not what I asked."

Alexander looked away.

His gaze settled on the hospital room across the hall.

Evelyn Laurent slept inside, connected to machines after the car accident that had nearly killed her earlier that evening.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he answered quietly.

"If Rosalie had lived, my life would have been very different."

Nathan's stomach tightened.

That wasn't the answer of a man who had moved on.

It was the answer of a man still living in the ruins of the past.

"What about Regina?"

Alexander frowned.

"What about her?"

Nathan stared at him.

The question itself felt like an answer.

A nurse stepped into the lounge.

"Mr. Kingston, Miss Laurent is awake."

Alexander stood immediately.

The movement was so instinctive that he didn't even seem aware of it.

Nathan watched him button his suit jacket and walk toward Evelyn's room without hesitation.

Then he said something he would normally never dare say.

"Sir, tonight is your wedding anniversary."

Alexander stopped.

For a moment, Nathan thought the reminder might matter.

Instead, Alexander glanced at his watch and replied calmly.

"Regina understands."

Then he walked away.

Nathan remained where he was.

The frustration sitting in his chest had nothing to do with business. As Chief of Staff he had sat across from senators, managed hostile acquisitions, and kept Kingston Group running through three separate crises without losing composure. None of that required what he felt right now.

It had everything to do with a woman who had spent three years loving a man who never once looked up long enough to see it. Regina Kingston had built her own architecture firm from nothing, had chosen Alexander freely, had asked for nothing except to be chosen back.

And he had spent their anniversary at another woman's bedside.

Unfortunately, Nathan and Alexander weren't alone.

Someone else had heard every word.

Regina stood at the far end of the corridor, hidden from view by a marble pillar.

The insulated food container in her hands suddenly felt heavier than it should.

She had spent the afternoon preparing Alexander's favorite meal.

She had driven across the city to surprise him.

She had even convinced herself that tonight might be different.

Now she felt foolish.

Not because Alexander had forgotten their anniversary.

That wasn't new.

What shattered her was hearing how easily he spoke about another future.

A future that didn't include her.

"If Rosalie had lived, my life would have been very different."

The sentence echoed inside her head.

Over and over.

Like a wound refusing to close.

Regina looked toward Evelyn's room.

Through the glass panel, she saw Alexander standing beside the hospital bed.

His expression had softened.

The concern in his eyes was impossible to miss.

She couldn't remember the last time he had looked at her that way.

Perhaps he never had.

A painful realization settled inside her.

She had spent three years competing against a dead woman without knowing it.

And somehow she was still losing.

Regina lowered her eyes.

Inside her handbag rested two things.

A small velvet box containing the anniversary gift she bought for Alexander.

And a sealed envelope.

The pregnancy report she had collected that morning.

She had imagined handing it to him tonight.

She had imagined surprise.

Happiness.

Maybe even a hug.

Now the thought embarrassed her.

A soft laugh escaped her lips, but there was no amusement in it.

Only disappointment.

Without another glance toward the hospital room, Regina turned and walked away.

Neither Nathan nor Alexander noticed her leave.

An hour later, Kingston Manor glowed beneath the rain.

The dining room looked beautiful.

Candles illuminated the long table.

White roses filled crystal vases.

Soft music drifted through hidden speakers.

Everything was exactly as Regina had planned.

Everything except her husband.

The clock struck midnight.

Still no Alexander.

Still no message.

Still no explanation.

Regina stared at the untouched dinner before quietly removing her wedding ring.

She placed it beside the folded divorce papers she had prepared weeks ago but never found the courage to use.

For a long moment, she simply looked at them.

Then she signed her name.

Regina Kingston.

The ink was barely dry when her phone vibrated.

Unknown Number.

She almost ignored it.

Something made her answer.

A woman's frightened voice whispered from the other end.

"Mrs. Kingston... are you alone?"

Regina sat upright immediately.

"Who is this?"

The woman sounded terrified.

As though she was afraid someone might hear her.

"You need to leave the mansion."

A chill ran through Regina.

"What are you talking about?"

The caller's breathing became uneven.

Then she whispered something that made Regina's blood turn cold.

"Rosalie Hart never died."

The line went dead.

Regina stared at the screen.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Slowly, she lowered the phone.

Then she noticed something that hadn't been there before.

A photograph rested in the center of the dining table.

Regina froze.

She was certain the table had been empty seconds ago.

With trembling fingers, she picked up the photograph.

It was a picture of her.

Sleeping.

Taken inside her bedroom.

On the back, someone had written a single question in elegant black ink.

DO YOU STILL THINK YOU'RE THE WIFE?