Chapter 5

“F-ck,” Lazare breathed, his voice tight, barely audible.

His muscles coiled like a spring, fingers braced hard against the wall on either side of her. His breath came hot and shallow. The air between them thinned. Vlada’s back met the cold surface, and his frame closed in around her, leaving no space, no escape.

She could feel the tension pulsing off him—restrained, electric.

And she knew then: he was cornered, and so was she.

She could almost feel the heat rolling off him, not from fear, but frustration—the kind that only surfaced when she got involved. His mother. The one woman who knew exactly where to twist the knife.

“Lazare Ibañez!” The voice came shrill and sharp, echoing through the grand corridor like a gavel. “Who is that girl you're hiding?! This is outrageous! You're engaged! What would Lazarus say if he knew about this filth?!”

Lazare’s jaw clenched. His eyes shut tight as though bracing for impact. Every muscle in his face went still—too still.

Fear clawed at the edges of her mind, but she shoved it down. There was no space for trembling hands or second thoughts—not now.

This moment had always been inevitable. Crossing paths with Alexandria was written in the fine print the day she said yes to Lazare. The woman was more than just his mother—she was a storm dressed in silk and secrets.

Vlada straightened her spine, her heels echoing with purpose. She wasn't the same girl they once dismissed, the one they broke in silence and left to bleed behind closed doors. That version of her was gone—buried beneath the wreckage of broken promises and cold betrayals.

Every scar they gave her had become armor.

Let Alexandria see for herself. Let her witness what pain had forged.

The clock had never favored her—especially not since the ink dried on her marriage papers. But this time, she would set the pace.

And this time, she wouldn't flinch.

Vlada inhaled slowly, pressing a steady hand to his chest before easing him aside. Her flipflops clicked softly against the marble as she stepped forward, her presence unfolding like a challenge. The dim chandelier light caught the edge of her cheekbone, illuminating her calm, unreadable expression.

Across the hallway stood Alexandria Ibañez—her perfectly styled hair unmoved, lips parted in sheer disbelief. Her gaze locked onto Vlada’s face, and for a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then her jaw dropped.

Vlada nearly laughed. The temptation danced in her throat, but she forced it down, keeping her features elegantly composed.

“W-What are you even doing here?” Alexandria finally spoke, the words brittle with shock.

Vlada turned her head slowly, eyes cool and deliberate. She offered a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. “Why don’t you ask your son, Madame?”

A flush crept up Alexandria’s neck, blooming into a violent red across her face. Her hands curled at her sides, but she didn’t speak. Still stunning, Vlada noted—skin untouched by time, diamonds glittering at her ears, posture carved from discipline. But behind the refinement, there it was again: that unmistakable flicker in her gaze, sharp and dark—the one she only ever showed behind closed doors.

Vlada didn’t need confirmation. The mask was still there. Polished. Pretending. But beneath it?

A venomous snake in a designer dress.

Alexandria’s gaze flicked to Lazare, her eyes wide with disbelief, almost pleading. “Lazare... what is going on here?”

He stepped forward slightly, voice calm but tight. “Ma, I can explain—but not here. Let’s talk somewhere private.”

“Somewhere?” she echoed, her voice rising, sharp with offense. Her eyes narrowed toward Vlada. “And what about her?”

Lazare’s jaw tightened, his molars grinding as he muttered, “She’ll stay here.”

A brittle laugh burst from Alexandria’s lips, cold and cutting. “Wow. You’ve got the nerve to say that in front of me? Have you lost your mind? If the paparazzi are outside and they snap a shot of you with another woman in this house—our house—it’s game over, Lazare. For you. For all of us.”

“They already have,” he replied coolly. “Photos are already online.”

Alexandria’s eyes flared. “Don’t tell me…” Her voice dropped, venom lacing every word. “She’s the woman in those pictures?”

Lazare didn’t flinch. “She is.”

“That woman needs to leave. Right now.”

“Ma, she has a name,” he said, voice like steel. “And she’s not leaving unless I tell her to.”

That was it.

Alexandria stormed forward, heels clacking like gunshots against the floor. Without hesitation, she grabbed a fistful of Vlada’s hair and yanked. “If she won’t walk out of this mansion, then I’ll drag her out myself!”

Vlada winced—but her lips curled the slightest bit. Showtime.

“O-Ow! You’re hurting me!” she cried out, voice quivering as she twisted her body just enough to look fragile under Alexandria’s grip.

Lazare was on them in seconds. His hand snapped around his mother’s wrist, pulling her off with a force that made her stumble back. “What the hell are you doing?!” he barked. “Is this how you solve things now? By assaulting people? What is wrong with you?”

His voice shook, not with fear—but with rage.

“I’m asking you to go, Ma,” Lazare said, his voice lower now, but steady. “Please. I can handle this on my own. I’m not a child anymore—and I don’t need you or Uncle Lazarus stepping in this time.”

As soon as Alexandria released her grip, Vlada let herself collapse into Lazare’s chest. He caught her without hesitation, one hand steadying her back, the other brushing gently over her shoulder.

Alexandria’s eyes burned with fury. “Lazarus will hear about this.”

“Fine,” Lazare said flatly, not even looking at her. “But right now, leave.”

He turned his back on her and guided Vlada, his hand warm and protective on her back, until they reached the library. He closed the door quietly behind them, shutting out the storm.

“Sit,” he said gently, helping her into the nearest chair. He crouched before her, carefully tucking strands of hair behind her ear. “Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?”

She shook her head quickly, tears already swimming in her eyes. “No, it’s fine… I guess… I guess she never really liked me. She didn’t back then, and clearly nothing’s changed.” Her voice cracked as the tears finally fell. “I don’t know why I thought it would be different.”

Lazare wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Shhh… don’t think about her. You’re safe now,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”