Zade didn’t drive fast. He drove angry.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened with every block he passed, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. The city lights flickered past the windshield, but he saw none of it. All he could see—burned into the backs of his eyelids—was the look on Alex’s face when he caught her with Brenda. The stammer in her voice. The flush of guilt she couldn’t hide fast enough.
She’d been digging again.
And not alone this time. No. She’d been digging with Michael.
Michael.
The very name felt like acid on his tongue.
Zade wasn’t even sure which part of it pissed him off more—the betrayal, or the boy she betrayed him with. A weakling. A soft-spined, lovesick puppy who had once dared to call himself her boyfriend. Did she go crawling back to him behind Zade’s back? Did she smile at Michael the same way she used to smile at him before the engagement became public? Did she let him touch her?
The thought made his knuckles go white against the wheel.
He didn’t even register pulling off the road until he heard the tires screech against the curb. The car jerked to a halt on the side of an empty street, somewhere halfway between downtown and nowhere. He slammed the door behind him, pacing to the edge of the sidewalk, shoving a cigarette between his lips with trembling hands.
The lighter clicked once. Twice.
On the third try, the flame caught.
He inhaled sharply, the smoke biting down his throat as if punishing him.
Why was he so worked up? She'd gone behind his back before. Months ago, she'd tried to investigate him too. That had been fine. Expected. Smart, even. She didn’t know him then.
But now?
Now, she’d had dinners with him. Shared cars. Traded polite glances and quiet smiles. They kissed, damn it. Not just kissed—she kissed him herself. And he didn't pull away. Let himself imagine—for a dangerous, foolish second—that they were becoming something less than enemies.
Stupid.
Zade threw the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot.
A black Mercedes slid to a stop behind his car, headlights dimming. A door opened.
“You’re not exactly subtle, you know,” Andrea called out, stepping onto the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. “Parking in the middle of the road like that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to look suspicious.”
Zade shot him a look. “Go home.”
Andrea arched a brow, strolling closer. “Let me guess. Girl trouble?”
“Shut up.”
Andrea laughed, tipping his head back. “So it is about her.”
Zade didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Andrea walked past him, clapping him once on the back as he turned back to his own car. “Careful, brother. You’re starting to sound like you care.”
Zade stared after him long after the taillights vanished.
***
The dining hall of the Hales mansion was silent, cold, and blindingly bright—like a courtroom dressed in silk. Simon Hale sat at the head of the table, flanked by Melissa, his sister, on his left, and Robert, his third son, on his right. Their expressions were carved from the same block of polished stone: unreadable, but ready to judge.
Zade and Andrea took their seats in silence.
Simon didn’t look up. “How’s the situation with the Steels?”
Zade straightened. “Under control.”
Melissa sipped her wine. “You said that last month.”
“And it was true last month.”
Andrea smirked. “Until recently.”
Zade’s eyes snapped to his brother. “Don’t.”
Simon’s fork clinked against his plate. “Andrea tells me the girl—Alex—is causing complications.”
“She’s not,” Zade said coldly, giving Andrea a warning look, a silent "we'll talk about it later".
“You’re defending her?” Melissa asked, voice like glass.
“No.” His voice was calm now, but his hand was clenched beneath the table. “I’m saying she won’t cause problems. I’m handling it.”
Simon set down his utensils, finally meeting Zade’s eyes. “If you fail, Zade, you’re no longer one of us. I will not tolerate weakness in this family.”
Zade didn’t blink. “I won’t fail.”
The silence that followed was louder than shouting.
The meal continued. Zade barely tasted a thing.
***
Later that night, Zade sat in his home office, alone.
The house was silent. Even Andrea had gone to bed.
He sifted through the newest reports from the Hale Corporation’s regional board—strategies, quarterly projections, staff reviews. Boring. Predictable. Safe.
And then, something slipped out from between the pages. A photo.
Alex.
She was smiling, head tilted slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder. It wasn’t a posed shot—it looked like someone had taken it candidly during a company event. Probably a gala. She wore deep navy, eyes lit with something that wasn’t quite joy. Something quieter. Private.
Zade stared at it longer than he meant to.
His mind drifted backward, unbidden.
It had been about a year ago. He’d been at Steel Corp, shadowing a merger proposal with Luca and several other senior partners. They’d taken a short break between meetings, and she’d come into the room for something—papers, a forgotten file maybe.
He remembered the way she had barely glanced at him.
But the others noticed her.
He had heard them.
“Look at that,” one man had muttered under his breath, grinning. “No wonder Luca keeps her close. If she were mine…”
The rest of the sentence had been filth. Laughter. Agreement.
Zade hadn’t said anything then. Hadn’t even flinched.
But later, he found the same man in the building’s private restroom.
Broke his arm in three places.
When questioned, he’d said the man attacked him first. Claimed he was unhinged, aggressive. Conveniently, the man had a history of violent incidents. HR believed it. Luca had him fired immediately.
Zade never mentioned what he heard.
Never told anyone why he did it.
He placed the photo of Alex down on the desk, face down this time.
He didn’t need to look at it again. He already knew the face too well.
Something deep in his chest ached.
He didn’t let it breathe.