005. Promise...

"I won't let you go this time," Alexander murmured to himself, his hand unconsciously moving to his chest where an old ache had started to pulse again.

He walked toward his car parked at the far end of the hotel's lot. His driver stepped forward, but Alexander waved him off.

"I'll drive myself tonight, James. Take the rest of the evening off."

"Sir, are you sure? You look…"

"I'm fine," Alexander cut him off, though they both knew it was a lie. 

The fatigue was already setting in, that bone-deep exhaustion that had plagued him in his past life. But he couldn't show weakness. Not now. 

James hesitated but eventually nodded. "Yes, sir. Call if you need anything."

Alexander slid into the driver's seat and closed the door, shutting out the world. The leather was cool against his back as he leaned into it, closing his eyes for a moment.

This time, I'll do it right.

The memory crashed over him like a wave, so vivid, like it was happening now. 

Two years before his death in his past life, he’d walked into Grand Central Hospital for a private consultation about the illness that was slowly killing him. He wanted to keep it secret from his family, who he saw as vultures ready to take everything he had built the moment he showed any weakness.

It was there, in a secluded hallway near the Director's office, that he'd first seen her.

Helena.

She'd been walking with the renowned Dr. Harold Reynolds. Helena had been laughing at something her grandfather had said, and she looked so alive with genuine joy. 

He'd stopped in his tracks, completely captivated. There was something about her that caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if it was the way her auburn hair caught the fluorescent lights, the musical quality of her laugh, or the warmth in her green eyes. 

But something did, and he didn’t realise he was staring at her retreating figure till he heard Dr Reynolds .

"Well, well. If it isn't the young prodigy himself... Alexander Grant," Dr. Reynolds had said, approaching him with a knowing smile. "Come, let's talk in my office."

Alexander had followed the older man into a spacious office filled with medical journals and family photographs. His eyes had immediately found a picture of Helena on the desk… younger, maybe sixteen, but with that same radiant smile.

"You have my test results?" Alexander had asked, trying to focus on the reason he was there.

"I do," Dr. Reynolds had pulled out a thick file. "Your condition is... unusual, to say the least. The tests show a degenerative illness affecting your nervous system, but it's not like anything I've seen in conventional medicine."

"Can you cure it?"

"Not yet. But I've been working on something… experimental research that could potentially reverse this type of degeneration." Dr. Reynolds had leaned back in his chair, studying Alexander carefully. "However, I'll need more time. More blood samples to analyse your specific case."

"Whatever you need," Alexander had said immediately. "Money is no object."

"I don't want your money, son." Dr. Reynolds had smiled then, a strange, knowing expression. " You know… I saw how you looked at my granddaughter in the hallway."

Alexander had felt heat creep up his neck. "I meant no disrespect, sir."

"None taken." The old man had stood, walking to the window. "Helena is special… brilliant, kind, but naive in ways that worry me.”

He then turned to Alex with a serious look. “How well can you keep a secret?”

“Very well, sir.”

“You see… Helena was switched at birth and lived her first eighteen years with a family that wasn't hers. When I found her and brought her home..." He'd trailed off, shaking his head. "Let's just say not everyone in our family was happy about her return."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm dying, Alexander. Cancer. I have maybe a year, if I'm lucky. And when I die, Helena will be alone. Her parents favour the girl who replaced her. There are people in my own family who see Helena as an obstacle, a threat."

Alexander had remained silent, sensing the old man had more to say.

"I see something in you," Dr. Reynolds had continued. "You're not like the others who'd see her as a pretty trophy or a means to an end. You have honour. Integrity. So I'm going to make you an offer."

"What kind of offer?"

"Marry my granddaughter. Protect her from those who would harm her. Be her shield when I'm gone." Dr. Reynolds had held up a hand when Alexander started to protest. "I'm not asking you to decide now. But I am asking you to promise me this: if Helena ever needs protection, if she ever comes to you for help, you'll give it. You'll keep her safe from her enemies, even the ones in her own home."

Alexander had looked at the photograph on the desk again, at Helena's bright, trusting smile. Something in his chest had tightened… a feeling he couldn't quite name but that felt like fate.

"I promise," he'd said.

"Good." Dr. Reynolds had smiled, looking relieved. "Then I promise you something in return. I'll use my research to find a cure for your illness. I'll need a few months, but I won't let you die, Alexander. We have a deal."

They'd shaken hands, two men bound by promises they'd intended to keep.

But fate had other plans.

Dr. Reynolds had died four months later, his cancer progressing faster than anyone had anticipated. 

And Alexander's health had deteriorated rapidly after that, the illness spreading through his body like wildfire without the old doctor's treatments.

He'd been bedridden for months, weak and unable to move, forced to watch from a distance as Helena, desperate for the inheritance and the protection marriage would provide, had fallen for Michael's lies.

“I broke my promise,” Alexander thought to himself, feeling regret. “I let her marry that bastard. I let her suffer.”

Because he had died too, eventually. 

The illness had claimed him eighteen months after Helena's marriage, and his last conscious thought had been of her, wondering if she was happy, if she was safe.

Then he'd woken up two years in the past; given a second chance, he didn't understand, but wasn't about to waste it.

Alexander opened his eyes, staring at the hotel entrance as Victoria and her mother walked out and got into a waiting car.

This time will be different, he told himself. This time, I'll keep my promise.

He pulled out his phone and dialled his most trusted assistant, Phil. Phil answered on the first ring.

"Mr. Grant? I saw the news. Congratulations on your engagement, though I have to say, it was quite the surprise…"

"Phil, I don't have time for pleasantries," Alexander cut him off. "I need you to dig into Michael Harrison and Victoria Reynolds. Everything. Personal lives, bank transfers, business dealings, hidden debts, affairs, illegal activities. I want every single dark secret they're hiding on my desk by morning."

There was a pause. "That's... quite thorough, sir. May I ask why?"

"Just do it, Phil. I don't pay you to ask questions."

"Yes, sir. I'll have a full dossier in the next twelve hours."

"Make it six."