Chapter 4

Alice’s POV

My best friend stepped in front of me again before I could even process what was happening, her shoulders squared, her jaw set like she was ready to go to war. She spread her arms slightly, instinctively shielding me, even though we both knew she couldn’t protect me from a man like David.

David’s laugh was low and sharp, the kind that carried no humor at all. His eyes flicked over her dismissively before settling into something far colder. “The Neighleys’ affairs are none of the McKains’ business,” he said. His tone dropped, dangerous and deliberate. “Especially not the youngest daughter who’s done nothing but cause trouble. Or do you want me to tear up every contract your father lands next season?”

I felt it immediately, the shift in the room. When David mentioned business, he wasn’t posturing. He was furious.

I saw my best friend stiffen. Her lips parted, then pressed together again. Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening, and for the first time since we’d burst into the room, doubt flickered across her face. She loved me, she’d fight for me, but she also understood what David was capable of. The Neighleys didn’t just ruin people socially, they ruined them financially, permanently.

I knew then that if this continued, she would be the one paying for it. Again. Just like always.

Something in me snapped, quiet but decisive.

Before anyone could stop me, I reached for the nearest bottle of red wine on the table. The glass felt cool and solid in my hand. The room seemed to hold its breath as I lifted it over my head.

My best friend gasped. “Alice, don’t.”

David’s brows knit together, confusion flashing briefly across his face.

I didn’t hesitate.

I tipped the bottle and let the wine pour.

Cold liquid soaked into my hair, streamed down my face, splashed over my shoulders and chest, staining my dress a deep, violent red. The smell of fine grapes filled the air, sharp and overwhelming. It dripped down my spine, pooled at my feet, clung to my lashes until my vision blurred.

I stood there, drenched and shaking, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

I knew Lily too well. Ever since we were children, she’d “never been wrong.” When she made mistakes, I was the one who paid for them. When she cried, I was the one blamed. When she wanted something, it somehow became my responsibility to step aside and give it to her.

And now, even after Lucas’s death, I could see the truth clearly. Her tears never held real grief. If she’d wanted to leave, she could have. She had every excuse. Instead, she chose to stay, to bask in David’s attention, to flaunt it in front of me, his wife.

Through the red haze dripping from my lashes, I saw it. The corner of Lily’s mouth curved upward, just slightly. A smile she thought no one would notice.

My hands trembled as I lowered the empty bottle. Wine stung my eyes, my skin sticky and cold, but my voice came out steady when I spoke. “The matter ends here.”

I wiped at my face with the back of my hand and looked straight at David.

For just a second, something crossed his eyes. Concern. Regret. Maybe even shame. It was faint, fleeting, but I saw it. My heart clenched instinctively, stupidly hoping.

Then he turned his face away, jaw hardening again. “Stop tailing me,” he said coldly. “And don’t ever lay a finger on Lily again.” His gaze snapped back to me, sharp and threatening. “Next time, I’ll make you pay a greater price. Got that?”

He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it at me like an afterthought. The fabric hit my chest and slid down my arms, heavy and useless.

Then he wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulders and walked past me without another glance, escorting her out like she was something precious, something to be protected. The door closed behind them, laughter and music bleeding back into the room like nothing had happened.

The McKain family’s men moved quickly after that. Two of them grabbed my best friend by the arms before she could protest. “Let go of me,” she shouted, twisting violently. “Alice!”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, though my voice sounded hollow even to me. “I’m fine. Go.”

Her eyes burned into mine, furious and helpless. Then they dragged her away, the sound of her heels scraping against the floor echoing long after she was gone.

The room emptied fast. David’s friends filtered out, some avoiding my gaze, others sneering openly. Within moments, I was alone.

The silence hit harder than any insult.

My legs finally gave out. I sank to the ground, the filthy carpet cold beneath my palms, wine soaking into my clothes, my hair plastered to my face. My chest felt empty, like someone had reached inside and scooped everything out.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I just sat there, breathing shallowly, staring at the floor.

Then warmth settled over my shoulders.

I flinched, startled, and looked up.

A coat had been draped around me, thick and still warm with body heat. Not David’s.

Adam Judge stood in front of me, his expression unreadable but serious. I recognized him instantly. The Judge family ran a new energy vehicle empire worth hundreds of billions, yet he’d chosen medicine instead of boardrooms and shareholders. He was one of David’s friends, but he was the only one who hadn’t watched the spectacle with amusement.

His gaze held none of the mockery I’d seen all night.

“Thank you,” I said flatly, reaching to return the coat. Gratitude flickered, but trust didn’t follow. “You don’t need to do this.”

He shook his head slightly and pressed the coat back around my shoulders. “Keep it.”

I hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric. “I appreciate the help,” I added quietly, “but I don’t trust people like you.” The words slipped out before I could soften them. “No offense.”

His mouth twitched, not offended, almost amused. “Fair.”

He glanced around the empty room, then back at me. “My place is nearby,” he said. “You’re soaked and freezing. Would you mind going there to tidy yourself up?”

I pressed my lips together, uncertainty swirling. His tone was straightforward, his posture relaxed but respectful. There was something solid about him, something that felt… safe. And that frightened me almost as much as it reassured me.

“If you’re David’s friend,” I said slowly, “why are you helping me?”

“We’ve barely spoken before,” he replied honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know right from wrong.”

I laughed softly, bitterly. “That didn’t stop anyone else tonight.”

He met my eyes. “I’m not them.”

My thoughts raced. When my best friend defended me, David threatened her family’s business. If Adam helped me, what would David do to him? The question tangled in my chest, tightening with every breath.

He seemed to read it on my face.

“Come with me,” he said calmly. “David won’t do anything to me, even if he knows.”

I stared at him, searching for arrogance or calculation. I found neither. Just quiet certainty.

Before I could change my mind, before fear could convince me to retreat into myself again, he reached out and gently took my arm. His grip was firm but careful, supportive rather than possessive. He helped me to my feet, steadying me when I swayed.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said.