A Line Crossed

The next morning, Emma woke up feeling unsettled.

She had barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes—

She saw him.

Standing in that dimly lit office.

The way his voice had dipped into something dangerous.

Something unchartable.

She told herself it didn't matter.

That this was temporary.

That Alexander Westwood was just a powerful man protecting his interests.

But deep down—

She knew that was a lie.

—

Breakfast with the Devil

Emma expected to eat alone.

She was wrong.

When she walked into the kitchen, Alexander was already there—

Seated at the massive island, sipping black coffee.

Dark suit.

Crisp white shirt.

Every inch the ruthless billionaire.

Their eyes met.

"Morning," he said smoothly.

Emma hesitated.

"Morning."

She glanced at the table.

A full breakfast had already been prepared.

Omelets.

Fresh fruit.

Even a pastry basket.

She raised a brow.

"Are you expecting company?"

Alexander smirked.

"Just you."

Emma narrowed her eyes.

"Did you cook this?"

His lips twitched.

"Do I look like a man who cooks?"

Emma sighed, taking a seat.

"Of course not."

—

A Dangerous Conversation

They ate in silence.

But the air between them was heavy.

Charged.

Finally—

Alexander spoke.

"I have a question for you."

Emma glanced up.

"Should I be worried?"

His smirk deepened.

"Maybe."

Emma exhaled, setting her fork down.

"Fine. Ask."

Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

His gaze was sharp.

Unyielding.

"Why do you refuse help?"

Emma blinked.

"What?"

"You fight me at every turn," he said simply. "Why?"

Emma's stomach tightened.

"Because I don't need saving."

Alexander studied her.

Then—

"Everyone needs saving at some point."

Emma's breath hitched.

She hated that he could see through her.

Hated that he was right.

But before she could answer—

His phone rang.

His expression darkened.

And just like that—

The moment was gone.

—

A Call That Changed Everything

Alexander answered the phone with a clipped, "Speak."

Emma watched as his posture stiffened.

His grip on the phone tightened.

Whoever was on the other end—

It wasn't good news.

When he hung up, his jaw was like stone.

Emma frowned.

"What happened?"

Alexander exhaled slowly.

Then—

His gaze met hers.

"You were right," he murmured.

Emma's brows furrowed.

"About what?"

Alexander hesitated.

Then—

"The press isn't letting this go."

Emma's stomach sank.

"The story is growing. They're digging into your past, your family…"

He paused.

"And they're not stopping."

Emma's hands curled into fists.

Of course, they weren't stopping.

Because that's how the media worked.

They didn't just expose secrets.

They created them.

Twisted them.

Used them until there was nothing left of a person.

Emma's voice was quiet.

"What did they find?"

Alexander's jaw ticked.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

Emma's temper flared.

"That's not your choice to make."

Alexander's gaze sharpened.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But I'm making it anyway."

Emma's breath caught.

She should be furious.

She should demand to know the truth.

But before she could—

Alexander spoke again.

"They're outside."

Emma's pulse spiked.

"Who?"

Alexander's expression darkened.

"Reporters. Paparazzi. Maybe more."

Emma's heart pounded.

She felt trapped.

Like a cornered animal.

"Emma," Alexander said softly.

She looked up.

He was watching her carefully.

Assessing her.

"Trust me," he murmured.

Emma swallowed.

She shouldn't.

She really shouldn't.

But somehow—

She already did.

—

An Unwanted Visitor

The day was chaotic.

Reporters swarmed outside the building.

Cameras flashing.

Shouting her name.

Emma stayed inside.

But by the afternoon—

The real storm hit.

A security guard knocked on the door.

Alexander answered.

The guard hesitated.

"Sir, there's a woman downstairs asking for Miss Carter."

Emma froze.

Her blood turned ice cold.

Alexander's eyes snapped to her.

"Who?" he demanded.

The guard glanced at Emma.

"She says she's her mother."

The room fell silent.

Emma's stomach churned.

Not her.

Not now.

Alexander's voice was low. Controlled.

"Emma?"

She swallowed hard.

Then—

"Don't let her up."

Alexander held her gaze.

Then—

He turned to the guard.

"You heard her. Send her away."

The guard nodded and left.

But the moment the door closed—

Alexander turned back to Emma.

His expression unreadable.

"You want to tell me what that was about?"

Emma wrapped her arms around herself.

"It's nothing."

Alexander's gaze hardened.

"You and I both know that's not true."

Emma looked away.

This was not a conversation she wanted to have.

Not now.

Not with him.

But Alexander wasn't letting it go.

"Emma."

Her breath hitched.

And just like that—

She knew.

She wasn't leaving this room without answering him.