4

Alex's POV

He gave me a quick release?

Did I seem so desperate? My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.

I had never felt so embarrassed in my twenty-two years.

Not when I tripped at my high school graduation, not when Mum caught me smoking at sixteen.

This was deeper; it burned through me like acid. For once, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

I wished I could just stop existing, vanish into nothing so I wouldn't have to face the look on his face; that blank, indifferent stare that made me feel small and stupid.

Tears blurred my vision as I fumbled with the zipper, yanking it up the rest of the way.

My hands shook so bad I almost ripped the fabric.

I grabbed my shoes, not even putting them on, and bolted for the door. I found a side exit and slipped into the garden so I could pull myself together enough to rejoin the guests. I was literally balling my eyes out.

When I joined the guests again, my makeup was smeared, my dress wrinkled, but no one seemed to notice in the pre-wedding buzz.

I pasted on a fake smile and took my seat, heart hammering like it might burst.

When the music started and Mum appeared at the end of the aisle, radiant in her lace gown, my eyes went straight to him.

Dean stood tall at the altar, his tux perfect, smiling that polite smile as she walked toward him.

The very man who had finger-fucked me just an hour ago, his thick fingers slamming deep into me.

And now here he was, vowing forever to her. My eyes watered, blurring the scene, but I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

I wanted to hate him so much; to scream and storm the altar, tell everyone what he'd done. But I couldn't.

That pull was still there. That stupid, aching want that made my thighs clench even now, remembering his touch.

The ceremony dragged on, vows exchanged in soft voices and rings slipped on fingers. Guests clapped and cheered.

I clapped too but numbly. During the reception, mum pulled me into a hug at one point, whispering how happy she was, how she hoped I'd find someone soon too.

I nodded, mumbled congratulations, and excused myself to the bathroom to splash water on my face.

By the time the cake was cut and the night wound down, I knew for sure I couldn't stay.

Living under the same roof with them? Hearing them at night, seeing him every day? It would break me. It can't happen.

So I waited until the last guests left, slipped upstairs to my room, and packed a bag with whatever fit; clothes, my sketchbook, some cash I'd saved.

I sat at my desk with a pen in hand, and wrote the letter.

"Mum, I'm sorry. I can't stay here. I need to figure things out on my own. Please don't look for me. I love you, but this is too much. Alex."

I folded it, left it on the pillow, and snuck out the back door.

I walked to the bus stop with a bag over my shoulder. I thought leaving would heal me, wash away the humiliation, the obsession.

I had hoped with every step that distance would make me forget his eyes, his hands, his voice. I prayed I was right.

FOUR YEARS LATER...

The phone rang while I was in my tiny Boston studio, paint splattered on my hands from the canvas I'd been working on all morning.

I wiped them on my jeans and picked up, not recognizing the number but answering anyway.

"Hello?"

"Miss Alex? It's Mr. Mars."

My heart skipped. The butler. I hadn't heard from anyone back home in years.

"Mr. Mars? Hi. Is everything okay?"

His voice was heavy and tired.

"I'm afraid not, miss. Your mother... she's passed. The funeral is in two days. You have to come back. You're the only true family she had left."

The words hit like a damn punch. I sank onto the floor as my phone slipped a bit from my grip.

"What? No... how? When?"

"Cancer, miss. It came on fast. She didn't want anyone to know until... well, until it was too late. She took her last breath yesterday. I'm so sorry."

I cried my eyes out right there on the cold hardwood. Sobs wracked my body until I felt empty. Mum was gone. And no one told me she was sick? Not a call, not a letter?

The guilt crashed over me; I had run away, cut them off, and now she was dead without me there.

I cried for hours, curled up with memories flooding back; her strict smiles, her endless lectures, the way she'd hug me tight when Dad died. I should have been there.

I booked a flight that night, packed my things in a daze. Boston had been my escape with a quiet life, art school, small shows where my paintings sold okay.

I'd dated a bit, like two men, tried to move on. But no one really stuck.

The plane landed, and I took a cab to the house. My heart beat unbelievably fast the whole ride, thumping against my ribs roughly.

When the familiar gates came into view, my stomach twisted.

Mr. Mars waited outside. He looked older now, his hair fully gray. He hugged me gently.

"Miss Alex, it's good to see you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances."

I hugged back. "Me too. Thank you for calling."

He led me toward the garden where the funeral was set up; a small tent with chairs in rows.

There were just a few people in black, some I recognized from Mum's film world; producers and assistants. Quiet murmurs filled the air.

And then my eyes landed on him.

Dean Billie, standing off to the side. Looking older, yes; his beard now flecked with white strands that made him seem distinguished, his styled hair silvered at the edges.

He was still tall, still broad, but time had etched lines around those blue eyes. My heart tightened sharply, a familiar ache blooming low.

I looked away immediately, focusing on my feet. This was the very reason I'd felt uneasy the whole trip.

Seeing him stirred everything up; the humiliation, the want, the anger. I reminded myself now was not the time for this. Mum deserved better.

The funeral rites started and I stayed quiet but with tears on my cheeks. It ended as fast as it began; the casket was lowered, flowers tossed.

Guests milled about, offering condolences. I shook hands, nodded thanks, but my eyes scanned without meaning to.

I didn't see Dean at all. Maybe he'd left early. Relief mixed with a weird disappointment I hated myself for.

Mr. Mars touched my arm.

"Miss Alex, if you'll come inside. The lawyer's here for the will reading. Just family."

I followed him into the house. The familiar halls immediately hit me with nostalgia. We went to the study, where a man in a suit waited at the desk with papers spread out.

And there, in the corner chair, sat Dean with a tobacco pipe to his lips.

Our eyes met as I walked in; his cold and blue and piercing.

He watched me cross the room, take my seat across from him, then looked away without a word. The air felt so awkward; we hadn't spoken, hadn't even acknowledged each other.

The lawyer cleared his throat, sensing the tension.

"Alright, let's begin. I'm Mr. Hargrove, your mother's attorney. She left clear instructions. I'll read the will now."

He adjusted his glasses and started.

"I, Catherine Chen-Billie, being of sound mind, do hereby declare this my last will and testament. To my staff, including Mr. Mars, I leave individual bequests as detailed in the attached schedule; thank you for your loyalty."

He paused, flipping a page.

"To my husband, Dean Billie, I leave our shared assets as per our prenup, including the vacation home in Aspen and a portion of the film company shares. Dean, you've been my rock these last years. I hope you find peace."

Dean's jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed silent, staring at the floor.

Mr. Hargrove continued.

"And to my daughter, Alexandra Chen, I leave the bulk of my estate; the family home, the remaining company shares, investment accounts totaling approximately a hundred million dollars, and all personal effects. Alex, you were always my light, even when we drifted. I want you to have it all."

I blinked, shock rippling through me. All of it? But then he kept reading.

"However, this inheritance comes with one condition."

Mr. Hargrove met my eyes. "Alexandra must reside in the family home for a full year starting from the date of this reading. During that time, under the guidance of her stepfather, Dean Billie, she must enter into marriage. If not, she loses her inheritance.”