A GLIMPSE OF INTENT

VALERIE

I watch as Alexander walks out of my office with that confidence stride of his, the same one that made people either trust him or despise him instantly. I never knew my plans would start to work this fast. It almost feels too easy—like fate itself is giving me the rope to hang him with.

I have him exactly where I want him.

Just a little more effort from him, just a tiny push in the direction I want, and then—then I’ll give in, let him believe he’s winning, before I destroy everything he holds dear.

“Valerie, don’t stress,” I muttered to myself with a cold smirk. “That bingo is yours.”

A low laugh escaped my lips, quiet enough that no one in the building would hear. My coworkers probably think I’m still a diligent lawyer who doesn’t joke around. If only they knew the fire burning beneath this calm exterior.

The rest of the day drifted by in a blur of reviewing documents and responding to client emails. On the surface, I was the perfect professional, but in my mind, every case I handled, every sentence I read, led me back to one man—Alexander Stone.

When the office finally emptied, I gathered my things slowly, savoring the quiet. There’s something about leaving an office after hours, when the lights are dimmed and the world feels still, that makes plotting revenge even sweeter. I locked the door behind me and stepped into the cool evening air.

I decided I couldn’t go straight home—not tonight. My head was too full of plans, calculations, and the image of my sister, Vera, lying motionless in that stiff bed. My chest tightened as the memory flashed in my mind—her pale face, her fingers limp in mine, the machines keeping her alive humming in the background.

Two years.

Two long, merciless years since that night.

Two years since Alexander Stone and his biker gang tore my world apart, leaving my twin sister fighting for her life and me clawing at every scrap of justice I could find. If I stop now, if I let my resolve falter even for a moment, then what was all this pain for?

I pushed the thought down before it could drown me and headed to a small café down the street. It wasn’t fancy, but it was quiet enough for me to think.

The place smelled faintly of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries. I slid into a corner booth, ordered a cappuccino and a slice of cheesecake, and set my bag beside me. As I waited, I pulled out my journal—the one that had become my lifeline over the years. Its black leather cover was worn from constant use, and on the very first page, in bold capital letters, was a single name written with more pressure than any other word on the page:

ALEXANDER STONE.

I traced the letters with my fingertip, a ritual that steadied me. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore; this was about survival. About making sure no one like him ever had the power to destroy someone like Vera—or me—again.

I flipped through the pages, reviewing each step of my plan. Every detail was there, every move calculated. I didn’t leave room for error, but still, I couldn’t stop myself from whispering softly, “What if she never wakes up?”

The thought came unbidden, sharp as a knife to the heart. My throat tightened, and I clenched my fists under the table.

“No,” I hissed under my breath. “She will wake up. She has to.”

My phone vibrated suddenly, startling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I’d been ignoring notifications all day, but maybe it was time to face reality outside of this obsession. I reached into my bag to retrieve it.

That’s when it happened.

My journal slipped from the bag and landed on the floor with a soft thud.

“Damn it,” I muttered, bending to pick it up—but before my fingers could touch it, another hand got there first.

I froze.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze, my pulse quickening as my eyes met his.

Alexander Stone.

What the hell?

My stomach dropped, and for a split second, I wondered if I was hallucinating.

“What the heck?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “Are you stalking me now?”

He grinned, that infuriating, careless grin that made me want to claw his face off. “Nope,” he said lightly, like running into me here was the most natural thing in the world.

I shot to my feet, my hand outstretched toward him. “Give me my journal.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he held it just out of my reach, like a tall boy teasing a younger sibling. His eyes glittered with mischief, clearly enjoying my frustration.

“Alexander,” I warned, my tone low and dangerous. “That’s private.”

“I can see that,” he replied with a maddening shrug. “But I bet it’s just a list of all the people you want to send straight to jail, huh?” He chuckled like it was a harmless joke.

I didn’t laugh.

“Give. It. Back.”

He tilted his head, studying the journal like it was some kind of puzzle, and then slowly, deliberately, he flipped it open.

My blood turned to ice.

“Let’s see who’s next on the list…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned the first page.

Then his expression changed.

Gone was the teasing smile, replaced by something unreadable—shock, maybe, disbelief.

He lifted his gaze to me, his jaw tightening.

“Me?” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Alexander Stone,” he read aloud, his voice laced with incredulity as his eyes bored into mine.

"Why exactly is my name written in this journal?" he asked, his tone sharp enough to make me quiver.

The air between us grew thick, charged with unspoken truths. He stared at me in stunned silence, like the world had just tilted off its axis.

And I… I didn’t look away.