Chapter 17

The sound of the room door closing snapped me out of my thoughts. I swallowed hard, and we both said at the same time: "One of the students tried to harass me, or rather, tried to assault me."

"What happened? You made my blood boil. I was so worried about you," he said, his brow furrowing at the sound of my words. He ran his hand through his hair. "What exactly happened?"

My blood froze in my veins. My heartbeat quickened in an irregular rhythm. He stepped closer to me, his mouth hanging open in the air. He clenched his fist three times, trying to control his anger, before pulling me into his arms, and that movement made my tears fall.

"I'm sorry. You went through this because of me."

... 

"Where is Alex?"

I came down the stairs, drying my hair. I had been so caught up in everything that had happened that I forgot to ask him about my mom. She wasn't in her room, and I couldn't call her because my phone was broken.

"The master asked you not to wait for him for dinner; he had to leave for an urgent matter."

Samita, the head housekeeper, answered. I still didn't understand why someone as beautiful as her worked here. I shook my head quickly and said, "I'll have my dinner at work. I'll be back by eleven."

I noticed the surprised look on Samita's face. "But Mr. Alexander prepared breakfast himself."

I couldn't have heard that right. It was impossible for someone with his stature and influence to cook. Maybe she was saying that to get me to stay for dinner. Ugh, I was already late for work.

"I don't have time for this. By the way, where is my mom?"

Samita's gaze dropped to the floor. "She went out for a walk with one of her friends."

Her friends? Does my mom have friends here? This day just keeps getting stranger. When did she get better to go out for a walk? I mean, how and who allowed her to go?

I quickly styled my hair and got dressed. I'd deal with my mom when I returned from work. I really didn't plan on living here. True, this house was very close to the university, but Alexander and I… even now, it feels strange living under the same roof.

... 

From Ayor's Perspective:

"You're fifteen minutes late. Why did you make me wait? And why is your phone off?"

That's my brother, the man with a heart of ice. He didn't even greet me. I sighed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'm sorry, dear brother," I replied softly, my voice carrying a hint of guilt.

He didn't seem interested in my apology. Instead, he handed me a set of gift bags filled with souvenirs. Typical of him—cold on the surface, yet always finding a way to show he cared. When I had fought with our father, he was the only one who supported me.

I followed him to his car, the tension lingering between us unspoken but palpable. He answered a call as soon as we got in, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone.

"Getting rid of those seven wasn't difficult."

The chill in his words sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach twisted, and my breath hitched. I had tried so hard to stay away from the family's dirty business. Not after what happened…

My brother's sharp gaze turned toward me, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the way my hands trembled in my lap. My legs felt like jelly.

"You don't have to worry about any of this," he said, his voice calm but firm. "At least, not unless you plan on forgetting our deal. Every time I clean up one of your messes, you owe me. And it's been a long time since I've asked for anything."

He leaned back in his seat, tossing a folder onto my lap. I hesitated before opening it, my heart sinking when I saw the photos. They showed a man in his late thirties, his face sharp and unreadable.

"Tonight, I need you to handle him. Extract all the information about the new sports complex being built next year. Once you have everything, make him disappear."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my thighs. I'd suggested this arrangement—helping my brother with intelligence work—to avoid the heavier sins of the family's assassinations. But even this felt suffocating.

"I'll do it," I said quietly.

He smiled faintly, swirling the wine in his glass, the ice cubes clinking softly. "Good. Be ready by eleven," he said, turning the music up to a deafening volume.

I leaned back, closing my eyes as the music filled the car. For a moment, I wished I could drown in the sound and forget that normalcy was something I would never have.

---

From Alexander's Perspective:

"Now, tell me, Mr. Leeson—do you remember who this is?"

The man was barely conscious, blood streaming from his nose and soaking the floor beneath him. His right eye was swollen shut, and his breathing was ragged. I gripped his hair, forcing his head up.

"It's… Madam Alexander Epix," he stuttered, his voice weak and slurred.

His words only fueled my anger. I slammed my fist into his jaw, the satisfying crack of bone and the clatter of his teeth on the ground easing my fury. He always flaunted that smile—well, not anymore.

"Sir, Uncle Edward Epix wishes to speak with you," my assistant interrupted, stepping into the bloodied cell.

I straightened, wiping my hands on a cloth. So, Edward had caught wind of my movements. Typical. "Tell him I don't have time," I said curtly, throwing the rag aside.

I glanced at the clock. Eleven. By now, Teal was probably fast asleep. The thought of her calmed me for a brief moment, but only briefly.

Leaving the police station, I cast one last glance at the building. "I don't want to see those officers again," I muttered to Max as I stepped into the car. "They're useless. Justice never comes swiftly enough with them."

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the message.

"Madam has left for work at the café. We couldn't stop her."