Hospitals had a way of making time feel both still and sharp. Alex had sat curled into the stiff plastic chair all night, legs pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The ticking of the clock on the wall became louder the longer her mother stayed asleep.
Nova hadn’t moved since they admitted her. Just the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Machines beeped occasionally, distant and cold. The doctor had said she was stable—for now. Exhausted. Her body had shut down, demanding a full stop. They’d begin a new treatment plan, something that could delay the progression. But no one said reverse. No one said cure.
Just delay.
Alex had tried not to cry. She needed to be strong—for Luca, for her mother, for the company. But every few hours, her eyes would blur anyway, and she’d wipe them fast, hoping no one noticed.
No one did.
It was around 6 a.m. when she heard the soft shuffle of leather shoes in the corridor.
Zade.
She knew the sound of his footsteps now—too confident for a stranger, too calm for someone with nothing to hide. Before he could reach the hospital room, Alex was already on her feet, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her with a firm click.
He stopped when he saw her. “Alex.”
“You’re early,” she said, voice flat. “Or late. Depends on how you look at it.”
“I just wanted to check on Nova,” Zade replied, gaze steady. “I heard—”
“Don’t,” she cut in. “You don’t get to pretend right now. Not after what you said at the gala.”
Zade tilted his head slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“You said my father looked like his own father. And I’ve been thinking about it all night.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “How do you know what my grandfather looked like, Zade?”
He blinked. A slow inhale. “There’s a photo at Steel’s. In the old executive hallway. I saw it weeks ago.”
Alex didn’t even flinch. “There are no family photos at Steel’s.”
A silence passed between them. The kind that prickled under the skin.
Zade’s jaw clenched. “Then maybe I saw it online. You’re the Steels—there are public records, interviews, charity galas, old press kits—”
“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “You knew what he looked like. You said it too quickly. Too confidently.”
“I came here to be supportive,” Zade bit out. “You want to interrogate me instead? Be my guest. But don’t expect me to stay.”
He turned, walking away with those same careful steps, like nothing rattled him. Like he didn’t just confirm something with his silence.
Alex stood frozen in the corridor long after he was gone.
When she returned to the room, Luca looked up from Nova’s bedside. His hand was curled gently around hers, thumb stroking her palm. Nova hadn’t stirred once.
“I’m going home,” Alex said quietly. “Just to get a few things. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
Luca nodded without question, his voice quiet. “Drive safe.”
But she didn’t go home to rest.
Not even close.
***
The house was empty, but not quiet. The air buzzed with questions. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even changed clothes. She walked straight to Luca’s office, where the scent of old leather and paper filled her nose like incense.
She didn’t hesitate.
Box after box came down from the top shelves, her fingers smudged with dust as she opened folders, scanned pages, flipped through files. Some were old financials, others old personal letters—Christmas cards from CEOs, invitations to luncheons, even thank-you notes from politicians. Everything you’d expect from a high-powered legacy family.
But she wasn’t looking for what she expected.
She was looking for what didn’t belong.
The sun was well above the horizon by the time her fingers found it—a brittle photo tucked inside a file marked “1973–1985 – Personal”.
Two families stood side by side on the white-bordered photo. On one side—her father, younger than Alex was now, wearing a navy sweater. Her grandfather beside him. Strong shoulders. Sharp jaw. Smile tight like he knew too much.
Next to them—a second man with a cigarette between his fingers, his wife at his side, hand on the shoulder of a light-haired boy with striking eyes.
Those eyes.
Alex’s stomach clenched.
She flipped the photo around.
Scrawled in thick blue ink on the back:
“Steel Company x Hale Enterprise – Initial Deal Meeting, 1983.”
Alex felt like the floor dropped beneath her. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, matching the buzz of panic that pressed against her ribs.
Hale.
Zade Hale.
This wasn’t a coincidence.
She grabbed her phone with trembling hands and opened his contact. Her fingers hovered over the call button, then dropped it. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.
Instead, she turned back to the box and pulled out a paperclip-bound stack of reports—meeting transcripts, memos, dates. One caught her attention.
A partnership negotiation that collapsed in 1984.
A scandal. Accusations of laundering.
And three months after the last recorded meeting—her grandfather was murdered.
Everyone said it was a break-in.
But maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe it was something more.
Something inherited.
Alex stared at the photo again, tracing the boy’s face.
Zade had known her family longer than he ever let on.
And if his family had something to do with her grandfather’s death…
Then what was he doing here now?
Why was he suddenly her partner, her savior, her arranged fiancé?
Her stomach turned. Rage. Betrayal. Fear.
All of it at once.
She looked down at the card one more time and whispered the name like it was poison.
“Zade Hale.”