LOGINAlex’s Pov The heavy oak doors of the dining room didn’t just close behind Chloe and her mother, Mia—they seemed to seal the oxygen right out of the room. I adjusted my cufflinks, my eyes tracking Mia as she glided toward the table. Her posture was a fortress of aristocratic ice. When Benedict introduced us, her response to me was a clipped, barely audible nod, but the look she directed at Ruby? It was a sub-zero stare designed to make a person feel smaller than dust. I felt the skin across my knuckles tighten. I already knew from Ruby that their relationship was fractured, but witnessing the raw, physical weight of her mother's disdain made a dark, protective anger flare deep in my chest. Beneath the linen tablecloth, I reached out. I found Ruby’s hand, wrapping my fingers completely around hers in a firm, grounding squeeze. I’m right here, the pressure of my palm promised. You are not alone in this room. As the first course was served, the clinking of silverware couldn't
Ruby’s POV The siren was a deafening, relentless shriek that tore the Friday night apart. Flashing red and blue lights sliced through the darkness of the Bells’ estate, casting eerie, violent shadows against the pristine white walls of the mansion. It was 11:00 PM. "Step back, ma'am! Give them room!" a paramedic shouted, but his voice sounded like it was underwater. I couldn’t move. I couldn't breathe. The stretcher was wheeled past me in a blur, and on it lay my father. Benedict Bell. The man who called me his queen. He was bleeding—so much blood, a horrific, gushing crimson stream that wouldn't stop pouring from the jagged stab wound in his side. It soaked through his clothes, stained the white sheets of the gurney, and dripped onto the gravel driveway. "Dad... Dad, please," I choked out, the tears finally breaking through, hot and blinding. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I couldn't play the strong, untouchable woman. I was completely breaking down. Behind me, standing
Ruby’s POV The morning sun sliced through the heavy curtains, painting patterns of bright gold across the rumpled sheets. I stirred slowly, my arm automatically reaching out to the other side of the bed. Cold. Empty. I opened my eyes, blinking against the light. Alex was gone. But the faint, unmistakable scent of him—woodsmoke, clean linen, and that deep masculine warmth—was still trapped in the fabric of the pillows. A soft shiver traveled down my spine as the memories of last night rushed back in a breathless wave. The red lace. The look in his dark eyes when he crossed the room. The bruising, desperate hunger of his mouth against mine, and the heavy, earth-shattering weight of those three words. I love you. I sat up, a slow, radiant smile taking over my face. I pulled his silk robe off the chair, sliding it over my naked body. As I tied the sash around my waist, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. My ginger hair was a wild, tangled mess, my lips were sligh
Alex's POV Tokyo had taken everything from me. Fourteen-hour flights. Back-to-back meetings in glass towers where no one smiled. Nights in a hotel room that smelled like recycled air and loneliness. And through all of it — every boardroom, every handshake, every lukewarm cup of green tea — all I could think about was her. Ruby Bells. She had no idea what she did to me. I'd been careful. God, I had been so careful. Since that first night in this house — the way she'd laughed at something I said and tucked her hair behind her ear — I'd kept my hands to myself and my feelings locked somewhere deep and dark where they couldn't embarrass either of us. She had her boundaries. I respected them. I respected her. But respect only stretched so far when you were in love with someone. The house was quiet when I pushed through the front door, dropping my bag in the hallway. It was late. I'd told her not to wait up. I took the stairs slowly, tie already loosened, jacket draped over my arm.
The penthouse felt entirely too large without Alexander in it. He had been stuck in Tokyo for the rest of the week, buried under late-night video conferences and high-stakes board meetings regarding the new international estate development. With him away, the glass-and-steel walls felt less like a sanctuary and more like a quiet vault. Needing a distraction from the eerie silence and my own looping thoughts, I had done something I hadn't done since the wedding: I invited Chloe over. The elevator chimed, and when the doors slid open, my sister stepped out into the foyer. It was her very first time coming to the penthouse. Her sharp eyes immediately scanned the sprawling, open-concept layout, her gaze mapping the Italian marble floors, the minimalistic luxury furniture, and the breathtaking floor-to-ceiling views of the Manhattan skyline. True to form, Chloe couldn't just admire it. Her upper lip curled into a familiar, slightly bitter pout. "Well," Chloe remarked, tossing her
The heavy weight of the emerald velvet dress was gone, but the lingering adrenaline of the dinner at the Ray estate still hummed under my skin when I woke up the next morning. The master bedroom was flooded with soft, early weekend sunlight, the sheer curtains fluttering slightly from the gentle breeze of the New York skyline. When I walked out into the open-concept living area, the sharp, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and maple syrup hit me instantly. Alexander was standing by the kitchen island, already dressed in a crisp, white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, though he hadn’t put on his suit jacket yet. Stacked neatly on the marble countertop were several high-end artisanal breakfast containers from our favourite bistro, alongside a massive, heavily lacquered wooden chest wrapped in a thick white silk ribbon. "You're up," Alex said, his blue eyes tracking me as I walked toward him in my silk robe. He reached over, pouring a cup of coffee







