* FREEBIE / NO PAYING * Chapter 27 : You have your pride, and I have mine.

An hour later, Alexander stepped out of the hospital room, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The sterile white corridor smelled faintly of disinfectant and rain—the faint trace of a storm that had passed earlier. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set, as if each drag of smoke might somehow steady the chaos in his mind.

Downstairs, Marilyn’s surgery had finally ended—a simple wound suture, the doctors said—and she was already awake. Serena, still composed despite the long day, followed the doctor to complete the post-surgery paperwork. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she walked ahead, unaware that Alexander had begun to follow a few paces behind, his footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet hall.

After finishing the paperwork, Serena paused in front of a sign that read Gynecology & Obstetrics. For a long moment, she stood still, her gaze distant, then took a quiet breath and pushed open the door.

When Alexander returned from his smoke break—half a cigarette still burning between his fingers—he caught sight of her entering that department. Even from afar, he recognized her gait instantly. The cigarette slipped from his hand, the ember snuffing out as it hit the linoleum.

A dull ache spread through his chest, crawling up to his throat, suffocating him with the acrid bitterness of tobacco and something far more painful—fear.

He followed almost instinctively, stopping by the doorway just in time to hear Serena’s voice from inside the consultation room.

“Doctor,” she asked softly, “what’s the situation with the baby?”

For a heartbeat, the world went silent. Then the words sank in.

Alexander’s hand froze on the doorknob, his pulse roaring in his ears.

The doctor’s voice was calm but grave. “The baby can be saved, but you’ll need to take heavy medication. The treatment will be painful and exhausting.”

Serena’s voice came again—firm, unwavering.

“It doesn’t matter. Just save the baby.”

“There will be injections, punctures… even bed rest for months. It won’t be easy.”

“Doctor,” she repeated quietly, “as long as the baby can be saved, I’ll endure it.”

The doctor let out a long sigh.

Alexander couldn’t listen any longer. The air felt suddenly too heavy to breathe. His hand slipped from the doorknob, and without a sound, he turned and walked away—fast. The hallway blurred before his eyes, his chest tightening with every step until it felt like someone had carved out the air around him.

When Serena finally stepped out, she didn’t notice that he had been there at all. She moved toward a row of waiting chairs, where a pale woman sat trembling.

“I spoke with the doctor for you,” Serena said gently. “He said the baby can be saved—but you’ll need to rest and take the medication as prescribed.”

The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s okay… I’m not afraid of the pain. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Serena smiled faintly, helping her settle down.

When she had gone downstairs earlier to finish the paperwork, she had found the woman in the hallway—pregnant, clothes stained with blood, too weak to stand. Her husband had been gone to pay the fees, leaving her alone, terrified. Serena couldn’t ignore her and had helped handle the documents and ask the doctor about her condition.

Now, seeing the relief on the woman’s face, Serena felt her heart ease a little. A few minutes later, the woman’s husband came running, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, panic still etched across his face. When he saw his wife, he nearly dropped to his knees, clutching her trembling hand.

“Honey,” he whispered, “maybe we shouldn’t keep the baby. You’ve suffered so much already. I don’t even like kids that much… with our savings, we could travel—just us.”

The woman shook her head stubbornly, her tears glistening under the hospital lights. “No. I like children. I want this baby.”

“Alright, alright,” he said quickly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “we’ll keep it. Just don’t get upset.”

Serena stood quietly nearby, watching the couple. The love in their eyes—the desperation, the fear, the tenderness—hit her like a wave she hadn’t braced for.

For a moment, she couldn’t move.

When she had been pregnant with her first child, she had been utterly alone.

No one had held her hand, no one had comforted her. Not even Alexander.

When she had called him for help, he had hung up impatiently—and when she awoke later, the child was gone. Torn from her.

That memory, buried deep, surged back with violent clarity now. The pain of it, sharp and merciless, cut through the numbness that had built inside her over the years.

Her breath hitched. The world tilted slightly, and she had to grip the back of a chair to steady herself. A passerby brushed against her shoulder, snapping her back to reality. She forced herself upright, collecting her paperwork and walking toward the elevator.

She had already gone through her own check-up earlier. The doctor said the recent irregularities were due to stress and exhaustion—nothing serious. With rest and medication, her body would stabilize soon. Relief had washed over her then; she wasn’t pregnant.

Her steps grew lighter as she headed back toward the floor where Marilyn was resting.

But what Serena didn’t know—what she couldn’t have imagined—was that her brief conversation in that corridor had already shattered Alexander from the inside.

He had heard everything, misunderstood everything, and in that moment, something dark and irreversible began to take root in his heart. 

---

When Alexander returned to Chiara’s hospital ward, his body felt strangely disconnected from his mind. He pushed the door too hard, bumping into it with a dull thud before stumbling back a step. The sound startled the quiet room.

Lucca, who had been seated by the window scrolling through his phone, lifted his head with a hint of mockery tugging at his mouth. “What’s eating you?”

Alexander didn’t answer. His eyes, rimmed red with exhaustion, flickered toward Chiara’s pale form lying motionless on the bed. Her small, fragile frame seemed almost swallowed by the white sheets. He stared for a moment longer, then turned silently to leave.

Renzo, who had been leaning against the wall, frowned. His patience snapped. “Mr. Vanderbilt, Chiara hasn’t even woken up yet, and you’re just going to leave?”

Alexander turned his head slowly. His gaze—dull, distant, and eerily empty—landed on Renzo. For a brief second, Renzo faltered. There was something unsettling about that look—like staring into the eyes of someone who’d lost all reason.

Without a word, Alexander brushed past him. Straightening his suit jacket with a mechanical calm, he said quietly, “I’ll consider the engagement with the Reinaldi family. But before that, I want to spend some time with Ms. Reinaldi. You’ll have to give me a little while.”

His voice was low but resolute, carrying the weight of exhaustion more than conviction.

What he didn’t realize was that Serena had been standing just a few feet behind him the entire time. She had come up to the same floor—Marilyn’s ward was nearby—and had heard every word.

When Alexander finally turned, his breath caught for a fraction of a second. Serena stood in the hallway, her eyes dark and unreadable, a paper bag clutched tightly in her hands.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sterile hospital lights cast long shadows down the corridor, stretching between them like an invisible wall.

Alexander’s gaze dropped to the bag she was holding. He imagined its contents—medicine, probably—and the memory of her earlier panic flooded his mind: her trembling voice, her desperate plea to save their child. His lips twisted into a faint, cynical smile.

Renzo, oblivious to the storm brewing between them, broke the silence. “Alright, then. When Chiara wakes up, I’ll tell her the good news. She’ll be thrilled to hear you two are about to get engaged.”

The words landed like a hammer. Then the door closed behind him, leaving only the echo of metal against metal.

Now, only Alexander and Serena remained. The air between them was suffocating.

Alexander’s hand instinctively went to his pocket, searching for his cigarettes. But the thought of her—pregnant once, fragile—made him stop. His fingers froze, and he quietly withdrew his hand.

Serena wanted to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. Ask him. Ask if he really wants this.

When their eyes met, neither moved. The silence stretched. Finally, Alexander turned and headed for the elevator.

“Alexander,” Serena called, her voice trembling.

He didn’t stop.

The elevator doors began to close. In a sudden, reckless motion, Serena wedged her hand between them. The metallic edges nearly clipped her fingers before the sensors forced the doors open again with a ding.

Alexander’s pulse spiked; for a second, his face betrayed panic. He slammed the ‘open’ button and turned to her sharply. “What do you want to say?”

“Do you really want to be with Chiara?” she asked, her voice small but steady.

“Yes,” he said flatly.

Serena inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the bag until the paper crinkled. “No matter what I say, no matter how I explain, you won’t believe that I didn’t hurt Mr. Vanderbilt, will you?”

He didn’t respond. His silence was heavier than any accusation. Seeing her face only twisted the knife deeper in his chest. Every glance at her reopened something raw inside him. It was unbearable.

He pressed the elevator’s close button again.

“I wasn’t the one who hurt Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said, her voice cracking. “When I saw him being stabbed, I ran to help. The black box—he gave it to me. He said it was meant for you. I didn’t know there was a snake inside!”

She said everything—everything except Matheo’s involvement. Even now, she was still protecting him.

Alexander’s lips curled into a cruel, joyless smile. “Serena,” he said softly, “maybe you lost the child because you lie too easily. Maybe God didn’t want you to keep it.”

The color drained from her face. She thought she must have misheard. “What?”

“I’m just analyzing the reason your baby didn’t survive,” he replied coldly.

The world seemed to still. Then—

Smack!

The sharp crack of her hand meeting his face echoed down the sterile corridor. His head snapped to the side, the faint sting blooming across his jaw.

For a heartbeat, neither moved.

The elevator doors slid shut behind them, trapping the two of them in silence once more. 

Blood filled Alexander’s mouth, metallic and bitter, spreading across his tongue. He could taste the violence between them—his lips split, the ache pulsing beneath his cheekbone.

Yet, in that twisted moment of pain, some masochistic part of him thought: At least she’s close.

For once, she wasn’t looking at him as a substitute.

After all, she would never treat Marken like this.

Yes—Marken. The one she cherished. The one for whom she would endure everything, even bringing into this world a child that never should have existed.

Marken, the golden one—the man blessed by heaven, adored by everyone.

And he, Alexander… no matter how brilliant his victories, no matter how meticulously he outshone every shadow, he would always be seen as Marken’s shadow.

His vision blurred red. A tremor ran through his hand as he reached up to touch his face. The sting of her slap burned hotter than the blood trickling from his lip.

Serena was trembling too. Her mind replayed the image she’d seen moments ago—the tender way a husband had helped his pregnant wife out of a car, his hand steady at her back, the gentleness in his eyes. Then she looked at Alexander, whose gaze was clouded with rage and wounded pride.

A chill spread through her chest.

The elevator doors kept sliding open and shut, metallic and impatient, because Serena stood frozen in the threshold. The warning chime echoed in the air, but neither of them moved. The world seemed to hold its breath between them.

Serena finally looked up at him, her voice raw.

“Alexander, I’ve explained, but you won’t listen. Every time you’re hurt, you lash out. The moment I make you uncomfortable, you retaliate twice as hard.” Her lips quivered, but her tone stayed firm. “We’re like beasts tearing each other apart, each one desperate to win. We’re not partners—we’re predators. You have your pride, and I have mine.v  Let’s end it here.”

Alexander said nothing. He only touched the side of his face where she’d struck him, his jaw tightening, the silence between them deafening.

Serena took a slow step back. The elevator doors began to close, the narrow sliver of light between them shrinking until his face disappeared completely.

She was wrong.

She shouldn’t have been moved by him. She shouldn’t have let herself feel.

What she had fallen for wasn’t the ruthless tycoon or the iron-willed heir—it was the flickering softness he sometimes showed her, the rare moments when his mask slipped and vulnerability bled through.

But she had been foolish to forget that this man carried many faces.

Beneath all the polish and control, Alexander was still stubborn. Impulsive. A boy in a man’s body, throwing tantrums in boardrooms and bedrooms alike.

He might have inherited power and prestige, but that didn’t make him any less reckless. And none of that excused the way he hurt her.

So it was over. It had to be.

Serena turned away, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting.

Inside the descending elevator, Alexander stood motionless, staring blankly at the metallic reflection of himself. The floor numbers ticked downward, one by one.

Only when the elevator reached the lobby did he snap out of his stupor.

He jabbed at the buttons for the upper floors, over and over, but none of them lit up.

When the doors opened again, he stepped out, chest heaving, a faint laugh escaping him—bitter, humorless. He looked ridiculous.

Still, he waited.

The elevator continued its descent, this time heading toward the basement. The second elevator nearby was stalled on the higher floors, refusing to move.

After a minute of standing there, impatience clawed at him.

He loosened his collar and took the stairs two, three steps at a time, his polished shoes pounding against the concrete.

By the time he reached the eighth floor, sweat beaded on his forehead, dampening his hairline. He yanked off his tie in frustration, a few buttons snapping loose. He didn’t care.

Then, finally—he saw her.

Serena stood at the end of the corridor, her back to him, wiping at her eyes. The sight hit him like a blade to the chest. The rawness of her grief twisted something inside him.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. Then, instinctively, he smoothed his hair, straightened his wrinkled jacket, and steadied his breath. His voice came out low, softer than he intended.

“Serena,” he called out.

She froze.

The echo of her name—his voice—hung in the quiet hallway like smoke that refused to dissipate. 

*********

Dear Gentle Readers ,

The author noticed that someone imposed a question in the comment of the first book, asking why the author is still updating the first book (or the 1st branch of the story) despite publishing this book (BVEW II) and here is the reason. 

This author had just been informed that he will never get any bonus from writing this story. Therefore, please understand if the required coins (to unlock) are expensive, it is because the chapter is longer or has higher number of words count. Previously, this author is required to do 1,500 to 2,000 words per chapter and that is sufficient because he will get bonus if he updates regularly, however that is not the case for this particular story and that is alright. The author always tries to look at the brighter side of things and for this one, this means that the author can update anytime and how many times he wants ... which this author will do starting today for this book. 

For the original BVEW book, the author still earns bonus if he updates daily with 1,5000 to 2,000 words each day 25 days a month. Hence why, he will continue updating and completing the 1st branch of the story there until it completes. 

Despite everything else, this author has always been open and honest with all of you, our very loyal Gentle Readers, simply because he knows that he is nothing without all of you here, reading this book. And that translates more than monetary value (after all, this author only gets around 200 usd each month from bonus, and somewhere around fifty to one hundred if he is lucky, from coins purchase and gifts), your comments, your thoughts, your review, and even the fact that you are reading his story and enganging with him always brings him tremendous, incalculable joy. It truly does mean the world to him. 

Apologies for the long letter at the start of this chapter, please enjoy. The author will give bonus chapter every 1K reads is reached. 

Yours, E.C.