LOGINObviously because I already told them I’d be there and as a premium client, I get these fancy treatments and all. “Sit,” he said, not looking at me. I did. He turned then, eyes sharp behind his glasses. “You’ve had two heart attacks,” he said plainly. “Your cardiac muscle fibers are weakened. Your body compensates until it cannot.”He pulled up scans on a tablet. “And the tumor,” he continued, tapping the screen. “Still stable in size. Still inoperable due to location. Which means the headaches are expected.” I clenched my jaw. “The drug we’ve been researching is not ready,” he added. “And I will not test it on you prematurely.” “Surgery,” I said. “Not an option,” he replied. “Risk outweighs benefit.” Silence settled between us. “So what,” I asked finally. “I just wait.” “No,” he said. “We manage.” “First,” he said, scrolling through my chart, “we escalate your medication.” He explained that the current analgesics were no longer sufficient. He would switch me to a strong
Alex POVI did not leave the café directly. I drove for five minutes first. Long enough to be certain no one was watching my patterns. Long enough to make sure the route blurred. Then I pulled over and called my driver. “Pick me up,” I said. “Come with a new car and Send the other car home.” I gave him a different landmark than the café. Security was not paranoia. It was habit. It was not that I believed my driver would betray me. If he ever did, he would not go free. But I had no appetite for unnecessary drama right now. No loose threads. No overlapping circles. The Rolls Royce arrived quietly, like it always did. I slid into the back seat and let the door close behind me. The silence inside the car was immediate and complete. Thick carpeting. Soft leather. The kind of comfort that did not announce itself but insisted on being felt. No wonder this car cost a fortune. I leaned back and closed my eyes. The day replayed itself without permission. Jane’s name circled in red.
Alex POVI did not react. Years of training had burned that instinct out of me. But something shifted in my chest anyway. Not shock. Recognition. “Explain,” I said. “She leaked the photos,” he replied calmly. “Directly. Intentionally.” He paused. “She wanted them to be found.” I leaned back. Jane Brewk. Of course. She had been everywhere before Aria arrived. Panels. Interviews. Think pieces. Award shortlists. She had mastered the art of being adjacent to brilliance without ever becoming it. Until Aria. “Before Aria,” Joe continued, reading my silence accurately, “Jane was the most visible literary voice in her lane. Not the best. But the most present.” Visibility is currency. And Aria had disrupted the market without even trying. “When Aria’s manuscript started circulating,” he went on, “Jane lost three invitations within two months. One book club deal. One speaking engagement. One long term brand partnership.” He slid another document forward. “All of those went to A
Alex POV By the time the lawyers filed out of the conference room, I was already regretting the lack of sleep I had last night. My head throbbed, not the dull, manageable kind, but the sharp, insistent pressure that sat behind my right eye and pulsed like a warning. The kind that made light feel louder than it should and voices scrape against the inside of my skull. I loosened my tie the moment the door closed. The room felt too warm. Or maybe my body was just tired of pretending it wasn’t under siege. I walked back to my office in silence, ignoring the greetings, the subtle glances, the careful distance people kept when they sensed a storm they were not invited into. My palm pressed briefly against the wall as I passed my assistant’s desk. Just for balance. Just for a second. That was new. Inside my office, I shut the door and leaned against it longer than necessary. The city sprawled outside the glass like it always did: confident, loud, indifferent. I crossed to my desk, ope
Alex POV The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. Silence fell instantly. “I did not call you here for a morality play,” I said coldly. “And I did not pay you to turn a woman into a villain for your convenience.” Ten pairs of eyes locked onto me. “I know the facts,” I continued. “I know what the public thinks. What I want are action steps. Legal ones. Concrete ones.” I leaned forward, voice steady but lethal. “I want to know who leaked those images. I want to know how far the defamation goes. I want options. Injunctions. Cease and desists. Lawsuits if necessary.” No one spoke. Good. “And let me be very clear,” I added. “Aria Dane is not to be framed as collateral damage in any strategy you present. Any plan that sacrifices her reputation to protect mine will be rejected.” A lawyer on my left adjusted his glasses. “Understood.” “Good,” I said. “Now start again. This time, do your job.”The room had shifted. The earlier stiffness was gone, replaced by something sha
Alex POVAfter everything Ethan did, after watching Aria get reduced to headlines and hashtags like she was an object, I realized something uncomfortable.I had been reacting.Angry. Defensive. Protective in the loud ways that made things worse.What Aria needed was not noise.She needed air.Leah told me she had shut everyone out. No visits. No calls. Curtains drawn. The kind of silence that isn’t rest, but hiding. The kind you slip into when the world decides your pain is entertainment.That knowledge sat heavy in my chest.So I thought carefully. Strategically. Like I always do when emotions threaten to ruin judgment.I couldn’t show up at her door again. That would only push her further into herself. I couldn’t send Leah with some grand plan either. Aria would smell pity a mile away, and pity would hurt her more than the scandal ever could.What she needed was dignity.Work.A reminder that her voice still carried value even when the world tried to drown it out.That’s when I reme







