تسجيل الدخولALEX'S POV
The aroma waking me up at eight in the morning wasn't the standard, sterile scent of the villa's professional catering. It was warm, savory, and distinctly rich—the smell of melted butter, seasoned eggs, and fresh herbs. I rolled out of bed, threw on a charcoal-grey cashmere sweater and dark jeans, and followed my nose down to the rustic French kitchen. Ruby was there. She was humming a soft, nameless tune, her vibrant ginger hair tied up in a loose, messy bun with a few stray curls framing her face. She wore an oversized white linen shirt over denim shorts, looking completely at home as she deftly flipped a classic French omelet in a copper skillet. Beside her, a stack of perfectly golden, fluffy pancakes sat warming, next to a bowl of fresh, macerated Riviera strawberries. "You're up," she said, glancing over her shoulder with a bright, easy smile. "Sit. I hope you're hungry. My dad taught me how to cook, and he always said a vacation doesn't truly start until you've had a proper homemade breakfast." I slid into the wrought-iron chair at the small wooden dining table by the window, watching her bring over the plates. "I didn't peg you for a chef, Ruby." "There's a lot you don't know about me, billionaire," she teased, setting a plate in front of me. I took a bite of the omelet. It was incredible. The eggs were perfectly creamy, folded with sharp gruyère cheese and fresh chives, the flavors rich and comforting. It tasted like home—something I realized I hadn't experienced in a very long time. As we ate, the quiet clinking of silverware against porcelain filled the sunny room. I watched her sip her coffee, her expression relaxed. But the ghost of Chloe's midnight phone call was still echoing in my mind. The threat was looming, and I needed to understand the playing field. I set my fork down, leaning back. "You aren't really close to your sister, are you?" Ruby paused, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She furrowed her brows, her green eyes dimming slightly. "Not exactly. We've never been close. I was adopted." I leaned in, holding her gaze. "Hm." "But Chloe is a mutual person," Ruby continued, a small, wry laugh escaping her lips as she set her cup down. "She can be evil, and somewhat caring when it concerns her. It's complicated." I watched her closely, testing the waters. "You don't have friends?" Ruby gasped, her eyes widening as she fake-angered, pointing a strawberry at me. "Alexander! Are you calling me lonely?" A genuine chuckle escaped my throat. I raised my hands in mock defense. "I'm simply stating my observation." "No, actually," she said, her expression softening into something raw and reflective. She looked out the window at the shimmering sea. "It's always been Chloe versus me all my life. She loves the spotlight, so she steals so much of it that even a glimpse isn't left for anyone else." "Hm. That's deep," I replied, a tightening sensation forming in my chest. "Yeah," Ruby sighed, a faint, melancholic smile touching her lips. "But weirdly enough, I do miss her and my dad right now. She would have found a way to create some sort of dramatic scene in front of my dad by now just to get his attention." I picked up on the omission in her sentence. "You aren't close with your mum?" "Not at all. She's Mrs. Bells to me," she said bluntly. A flash of cold, detached bitterness crossed her face when she uttered those words. I hated that look on her face. I hated that a family who was supposed to protect her had made her feel like an outsider in her own home. Sensing the mood getting too heavy, Ruby shook her head, her vibrant hair swaying. "Enough about me. What about you, golden only-child of billionaires?" I laughed, the tension breaking. "What do you want to know?" "Your growing up," she said, leaning her chin on her hand, looking at me with genuine curiosity. "How was it?" The dark image of violent, rushing river water flashed in the back of my mind for a split second, but I quickly locked it away. "It was lonely... till James moved in. Then it became chaotic." Ruby let out a melodic laugh that echoed beautifully in the quiet kitchen. "James is very opposite from you. He's so free." I arched a brow, playing along. "Are you saying I'm uptight?" She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "No... but I do think you keep your guards up. You don't know how to let them down." I said nothing. I just stared at her, captured by how easily she could read through my armor. Ruby bit her lip, a sudden spark of mischief in her eyes. "So, were you seeing anyone before our wedding?" "Not officially. Just flings," I replied smoothly, taking a sip of my black coffee. "So the rumors are true about you being in every woman's pants?" she asked, a knowing smirk on her lips. I shrugged, a slow grin spreading across my face. "What can I say? It's a solid reputation to keep." Ruby laughed, shaking her head. But as her laughter faded, I found myself genuinely curious about her past. I leaned forward. "Were you seeing anyone?" "No, I wasn't," she said, her tone dropping into something flat and tinged with an old, lingering hurt. "I've only dated one guy in college... and Chloe slept with him on my birthday. And a day before our anniversary." D*mn. That's crazy. My chest constricted with a sudden, sharp pang of protectiveness. Chloe wasn't just a spoiled socialite; she was a predator who systematically stripped Ruby of everything that made her happy. And then, a sickening realization hit me like a physical blow. I slept with Chloe in December. A cold sweat broke out across my shoulders. If Ruby found out about what happened at the Saddleson Hotel... if she found out that I, too, had been a part of Chloe's twisted game to hurt her... it would completely destroy the fragile bond we were building. I wouldn't want her to find out about Chloe and me. It would hurt me to hurt her. I couldn't let that happen. I had to bury that secret forever. "It's the least on the list," Ruby murmured softly, breaking me out of my spiraling thoughts as she began stacking our empty plates. I cleared my throat, checking my watch as I stood up from the table, needing to clear my head and handle the PR team regarding the anonymous threats Chloe was making. "I have to meet up with some clients in town. I will be back in two hours." I paused, looking down at her, wanting to erase the sad look from her eyes. "Then... we can take a walk this evening and see the views. Together." "Reallyyyy?" Ruby beamed, her entire face lighting up. She really had a contagious smile. It was so bright, so full of genuine joy, that I couldn't help but smile back, the heavy weight in my chest lifting just from looking at her. "Thank youuu! I will be ready in two hours," she said, her voice bouncing with excitement. "Okay," I murmured, stepping toward the door. I paused, looking back at her one last time. "And... thanks for breakfast, Ruby." "Anytime, billionaire," she called out. As I walked out to my car, the smile faded from my face, replaced by a cold, ruthless determination. Chloe was playing with fire, and I was going to ensure Ruby never got burned. RUBY'S POV After Alex left for his meeting, the silence of the massive villa settled back in. I took my time heading upstairs to the east wing to wash off the scent of breakfast and the lingering tension of our conversation. I turned on the marble shower, letting the steaming water ease the knots in my shoulders. Once I was dry, I walked into the sprawling walk-in closet and picked out a dress that felt effortlessly chic for a warm French afternoon. It was a ribbed, knit midi dress in a soft, burnt-orange hue that made my ginger hair pop. It hugged my curves comfortably, featuring a subtle halter neckline that left my shoulders bare to catch the Riviera breeze. For my hair, I didn't want anything too fussy; I simply brushed out my natural waves, leaving them to cascade damply down my back, and secured the front pieces with two tortoise-shell claw clips. I swiped on a bit of lip balm, slipped into a pair of flat leather slides, and grabbed my hardcover book. The shaded stone porch overlooking the Mediterranean was absolute paradise. I curled my legs up on the plush outdoor sofa, the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves below making it easy to finally get lost in the pages of my novel. I was just getting to a good chapter when the soft clicking of heels on stone interrupted me. "Madame Ray?" Monique, the head housekeeper, stepped onto the porch, looking unusually tense. "Forgive the interruption, but you have a visitor downstairs." I blinked, slowly closing my book. A deep frown creased my forehead. "A visitor? Are you sure they aren't looking for Alexander? He's out for a few hours." "No, Madame. She specifically asked for the new Mrs. Ray," Monique replied, her voice dropping into a formal, guarded whisper. "She is waiting in the grand sitting room." Confusion swirled in my chest. I didn't know a single soul in France, and my family certainly wouldn't send anyone without a warning. I set my book down on the side table, smoothed out the skirt of my knit dress, and walked inside, my leather slides padding softly against the cool marble floors. When I stepped into the grand sitting room, the air instantly felt different. Sitting elegantly on the cream velvet sofa was a striking brunette. Her hair was styled into a flawless, glossy blowout that bounced perfectly against her shoulders, and her piercing, ice-blue eyes scanned the room with a cold, practiced authority. She was wearing a stunning, undeniably attractive designer sundress—a tailored, cream linen piece with intricate navy blue embroidery along the corset-style bodice. She sat with perfect, old-money posture, one leg crossed over the other, a designer handbag resting casually beside her. She looked up as I entered, her lips curving into a perfectly rehearsed socialite smile. "Hello," I greeted her smoothly, keeping my voice neutral as I walked further into the room. The brunette stood up, her movements fluid and practiced. "You must be Ruby. Hello, darling. I'm Victoria. Victoria Davenport." She extended a manicured hand, her ice-blue eyes taking in my casual knit dress and damp hair in a single, sweeping glance. "I'm an old friend of Alex's. I happened to be in France for the holiday weekend with some of the girls, and when I heard you two were in town, I simply had to come by and congratulate you both on the wedding." "Thank you," I replied, masking my suspicion with a polite smile as I shook her hand. "That's very kind of you. Please, sit. What would you like to drink? Wine is fine?" "Wine is perfect, thank you," she purred, smoothing her dress as she sank back into the velvet cushions. I turned to Monique, who was lingering near the archway. "Monique, please bring us a bottle of the chilled white wine." Monique nodded and disappeared. Victoria leaned back, her eyes wandering up to the high, frescoed ceilings of the room before landing back on me. "It really is a beautiful house for a honeymoon," she said, her smile widening. "Thank you," I replied, sitting on the armchair opposite her, crossing my ankles. "Alex mentioned it belonged to his grandmother." "Oh, yes, I'm well aware," Victoria chuckled softly, a patronizing glint flashing in her blue eyes. "Alex and I used to come here every single Christmas growing up. The Ray family always hosts the most marvelous holiday retreats. I practically know every hidden hallway in this estate." Hm. A subtle, territorial flex. I kept my expression completely unbothered, nodding politely. "How nostalgic for you." Monique returned, pouring two glasses of wine before quietly exiting. Victoria lifted her crystal glass, taking a slow, elegant sip before locking her gaze onto mine. "So, tell me... how is life as a newlywed wife? It must be quite the adjustment." "I'm still blending in," I replied evenly, matching her measured tone. "Of course, darling. I mean, especially with your new society," Victoria said, her voice dripping with forced empathy. "Hosting the planned events for the year... it's entirely your responsibility now, you know. The Ray matriarch always spearheads the calendar." My brows furrowed slightly. "Events of the year?" Victoria gasped softly, placing a hand over her chest, though the surprise didn't reach her cold blue eyes. "Oh... Alex didn't inform you? Sweetheart, you're Mrs. Ray now. You are his right hand. The Ray family foundations, the autumn galas, the corporate charity auctions—they all fall on you now. The elite world expects a certain standard." The implication was clear as day: You're a small-town girl who doesn't belong in this league. I felt a sudden rush of heat in my chest, but I forced it down, refusing to let her see a single crack in my armor. I offered her a cool, devastatingly calm smile. "Hm. Thank you for informing me, Victoria. I appreciate the heads-up, and I will certainly look into it." "Oh, it's absolutely fine, really. I'm here to help," she said smoothly, setting her half-empty wine glass down on the table. She checked her delicate diamond watch and stood up. "Well, I should be heading out now. I don't want to overstay my welcome before Alex gets back." She paused, looking at me with a calculating tilt of her head. "If you're free tomorrow afternoon, you should join our society lunch. The girls and I planned a little trip here last weekend, and we'd love to have you." I stood up, keeping my posture regal. "Okay. I would love to come. Please send the address." "Of course, darling," Victoria smiled, stepping toward the grand foyer. "Give my regards to Alex." "I will. Have a safe drive," I replied, walking her all the way to the heavy mahogany front door. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the polite smile vanished from my face. I leaned my back against the wood, my chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. I knew the Bells name was little known in New York, but the Rays... the Rays were on an entirely different, terrifying level. I rubbed my temples, Victoria's passive-aggressive warning echoing in my mind. What the hell are 'events planned for the year'?Mia Bells’ POV The humidity of the New York midnight clung to the tinted windows of the Maybach parked in the shadow of an industrial pier on the Hudson River. Inside, the only light came from the dim glow of the dashboard. Mia Bells sat perfectly straight, her sharp chin tilted up, her tailored cream silk coat draped over her shoulders. At fifty-four, she had spent decades navigating the volatile currents of Manhattan’s elite. She knew exactly what it took to keep an empire standing, and more importantly, what it took to keep it from burning down. The rear door clicked open, bringing in a rush of cold river air. A middle-aged man in a wrinkled dark suit slipped inside, breathing heavily. He looked frantic, his eyes darting to the front where Mia’s driver sat, unmoving as a statue. "Do you have it?" Mia’s voice was smooth, devoid of any warmth, slicing through the quiet car. The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick, legal-sized manila envelope, his hands trem
Ruby’s POV The air inside the abandoned warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago smelled of rust, old rain, and impending victory. Chloe had selected the location—a sterile, concrete loft space currently under development by a Bells subsidiary. It was completely private, entirely secure, and far away from the prying eyes of the Magnificent Mile. Outside, the cold Midwestern wind howled against the reinforced glass windows, but inside, the tension was thick enough to suffocate. I paced the length of the concrete floor, the heavy soles of my designer leather boots echoing sharply against the space. I had traded my regal Manhattan silks for a sharp, tailored black trench coat, my ginger curls pulled back into a sleek, severe ponytail. Behind me, Chloe sat at a temporary metal desk, her fingers flying across the keys of her encrypted laptop, her icy blue eyes scanning lines of digital data. Allie Grace stood near the reinforced door, a half-eaten bag of artisanal chips in on
Ruby’s POVBy Wednesday morning, the penthouse had officially settled into a state of high-society cold war.I sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, the bright mid-week sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the pristine white porcelain plates before me. Betty moved silently around the space, pouring a fresh cup of green tea and setting down a small bowl of mixed berries and granola. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence I fully commanded.Since Sunday afternoon, Alexander hadn't set foot inside the apartment. He had sent a brief, clinical text message late Sunday night stating he was staying over at James’s apartment. I had replied with a simple, detached 'Okay.' We hadn't spoken a single word since. I hadn't spiraled, I hadn't checked the blogs, and I certainly hadn't let myself feel the sting of his absence. I was surviving on pure, unadulterated Bells pride.The heavy click of the private elevator doors broke the quiet.I didn't t
Ruby’s POV The penthouse living room still smelled faintly of the morning’s abandoned mimosa and cold anger when Betty’s soft, hesitant footsteps approached the chaise lounge. I was sitting with my legs drawn up, wrapped in a plush, oversized cream silk robe that felt like the only shield I had left in Manhattan. My wild ginger curls were tied loosely in a silk scrunchie, and my face was completely bare, save for the dark circles of humiliation lingering beneath my green eyes. "Madame Ray," Betty murmured, bowing her head deferentially. "There is a Miss Allie Grace downstairs. She insists on seeing you. She... she is carrying a bakery box and refused to leave." I blinked in surprise, my green eyes narrowing slightly. "Allie Grace? What is she doing here?" Before Betty could even offer an answer, the private elevator chimed, and Allie Grace stepped directly into the living room. She didn't look like she was here to gossip or poke around for high-society secrets. She was bal
Ruby’s POV The penthouse was dead silent when the Rolls-Royce dropped me off past midnight. I didn't bother turning on the main chandeliers. I walked through the cavernous, darkened living room, letting the heavy, emerald velvet train of my gown sweep over the cold Calacatta marble floor. I was exhausted, but it was a dizzying, triumphant kind of exhaustion. The gala had been an absolute masterpiece. Even without Alexander by my side, I had commanded that ballroom. I kicked off my Chanel heels, poured myself a generous glass of red wine from the crystal decanter, and collapsed onto the massive velvet sofa. I pulled down the structural zipper of my dress, letting the rich fabric fall loosely around my waist so I could breathe. I turned on the massive television screen, picking a random, mind-blowing thriller movie to fill the silence. He wants drama, I thought to myself, staring at the screen as I took a slow sip of wine. He thinks I’m going to throw a high-society tantrum, c
Alex’s POV The air in Chicago didn't just feel cold; it felt entirely hollow. The Davenport estate sat on the frozen, secluded outskirts of the city, surrounded by towering iron gates and a suffocating wall of ancient pine trees. By the time my private jet touched down and the secure SUV pulled up the winding, gravel driveway, it was past midnight. The historic stone mansion loomed in the dark like a mausoleum, its windows dark save for a single amber light glowing from a second-floor window. My chest felt tight, an aggressive, suffocating weight pressing down on my lungs as I stepped out into the biting wind. I hadn't slept a single wink on the flight. My mind was a chaotic cocktail of exhaustion, a lingering, frustrating guilt over leaving Ruby in the dark back in Manhattan, and a primal, terrifying urge to see the blood of my blood. The heavy oak front door swung open before I could even reach for the brass knocker. Victoria stood in the dimly lit foyer. She had trad







