The weekend passed like a breath Alex hadn’t realized she'd been holding for months.
For once, the house felt like a home and not a battlefield. Alex spent two whole days wrapped in the kind of peace she used to dream of when she was a little girl hiding behind her father's office door, listening to stock calls and boardroom rants like bedtime stories. Instead of stressing over press leaks or analyzing contracts, Alex made soup with her Mom—well, technically she sat on the stool and gave orders while she tried not to burn the vegetables. They read from her favorite poetry books, played three rounds of chess, and of course, Alex lost every single one. Nova would smirk and act surprised, pretending not to notice Alex let her win, but the sparkle in her eyes always gave her away.
Luca even managed to smile that weekend. A rare, genuine one. It didn’t reach his eyes—nothing really did these days—but it was something. He’d hover in the hallway while Alex tucked a blanket around her Mom, then retreat to his office to pretend he wasn’t listening to their laughter drifting through the walls.
But Monday came fast, and with it, the reminder that peace was just a borrowed hourglass—one that never stopped pouring.
Zade’s car arrived at the crack of dawn. Black, sleek, and ominous as always. Alex didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear his voice or breathe in the suffocating silence that clung to them every time they were forced into a shared space. But this was a public event, and public events required performance.
As Alex climbed into the back seat, he didn’t look at her. Just drove. His knuckles were pale on the steering wheel, jaw tight, blonde hair perfect.
“Try not to embarrass me today,” he muttered without warning, eyes still on the road.
Alez turned to him slowly, narrowing my gaze. “You’re worried about embarrassment? That’s rich. Just being seen next to you is humiliating enough.”
He exhaled sharply, but didn’t respond. The rest of the ride passed in a thick, blistering silence. Her hands clenched the hem of my coat. He didn’t so much as glance in her direction again. And Alex hated how that made her heart twist.
By the time they reached the venue, a swarm of flashing cameras greeted them like flies to fresh meat. Paparazzi shouted their names, asking for photos, demanding quotes, speculating everything from wedding dates to family inheritances. Zade stepped out first, expression unreadable, then turned back to offer his hand.
Alex ignored it and stepped out on her own.
“Smile,” he said through gritted teeth. “The press needs something shiny to look at.”
Something in her snapped. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or the sheer gall of him pretending to care about optics after everything. Whatever it was, she acted without thinking.
Alex grabbed his collar and kissed him.
Right there, in front of every single reporter, sponsor, and camera flash. Her lips crashed into his with the force of a tidal wave, catching even herself off guard. But he didn’t pull away. His hands came to her waist instinctively, fingers tightening like they were remembering something they shouldn't. The kiss deepened, his fingers clinging to her sides almost too desperately. Electricity buzzed up her spine. And for a second—just a second—it felt real.
When Alex finally pulled back, breathless and glaring, he stood there stunned—perhaps more shocked than she ever saw him be before. Quiet. Eyes unreadable.
Neither of them said a word. They simply turned and walked into the venue like nothing had happened.
Inside, the building was packed. Wealth dripped from every chandelier, every tailored tuxedo and polished shoe. The kind of charity event that wasn’t really about charity at all. Just a stage for power games disguised as philanthropy. Zade disappeared toward the podium where he was scheduled to speak. Alez wandered toward the edges, grateful to fade into the crowd.
That was, until I felt a presence behind me.
“Playing the devoted fiancée now?” a voice murmured at her shoulder. Alex turned and instantly regretted it.
Andrea.
Her stomach tightened.
“I thought we made it clear,” he said, voice low and even. “You’re not welcome around here.”
“I’m not here for you,” Alex said flatly, trying to step around him.
He shifted, blocking her path. “No, you’re here to play games. To dig. I know what you and your little friends are doing.”
Her breath caught. Her eyes darted across the room, but no one was watching.
Andrea leaned closer. “Consider this your final peaceful warning. Back off, or the next time we talk, it won’t be words.”
“You threatening me?” Alex hissed.
He smirked, cold and satisfied. “You think this world belongs to you because you have a pretty smile and a famous last name. But you don’t know what we’ve built. You don’t know how deep it goes.”
“I don’t need to,” Alex snapped. “I just need proof.”
Andrea’s gaze darkened. “Then you’ve already signed your death certificate.”
Before she could retort, he was gone. Slipped into the crowd like a shadow.
Alex stood frozen, heart pounding, unsure if it was from fear or fury. Her mind raced. Did Zade know? Did he send Andrea to intimidate her? Was he trying to silence her now?
“Are you okay?” a voice asked.
She turned. Zade stood there, a drink in hand, watching her with furrowed brows.
Alex straightened quickly. “Of course.”
He didn’t press. Just looked at her for a long, unreadable moment. “Your lipstick’s smudged.”
She wiped it with the back of her hand, refusing to let him see how shaken she really was. “Don’t act like you care.”
“I don’t,” he said evenly. “Just trying to maintain appearances.”
He walked away before she could speak. Left her standing there, cold and trembling despite the heat of the ballroom.
And for the first time, Alex realized something terrifying.
The real danger wasn’t Zade Hale.
It was what she was becoming just to beat him.