You like Alex?

Ashley's POV

"You should smile more often; the children love happy people."

Of course they did. I approached the children while Alexandrai and Ian unloaded the supplies we brought from the car. The orphanage staff could have helped, but seeing the mighty Alexandria Hale personally carrying boxes was a sight I never expected.

We played various games—hide-and-seek, twenty questions, and sharing our favorite colors. Saint Mary's was one of the best-run orphanages in the nation, partly because it was under the protection of the Hale family. Rumors claimed that a Hale heir had been adopted from here, though that seemed absurd. The births of all Hale heirs were recorded meticulously, right from conception. I had even written a case study on it during college.

Alexandria was that heir—the golden child, born after several miscarriages. His mother's pregnancy was treated like a national treasure, with the finest educators preparing him from the moment he could walk, and talk. Now, he led the family and skillfully kept greedy relatives at bay. He was a flawless leader, but as a husband? … A monster. 

Lunch arrived, and the children rushed to the long table where chefs had prepared a feast. I noticed a little girl lagging behind. "Hey, Lydia," I called, reaching for her small hand. she took mine instantly. "What's wrong? You didn't play as much as the others." Lydia was beautiful… pale green eyes, delicate features, her hair neatly tied in a bun despite the heat. The other children had abandoned their extra layers, yet she remained perfectly composed. Her sudden question made me halt in my tracks.

"You like Alex?" What had I done to give her that impression? I avoided him at every turn.

 "Well… he's my husband," I said casually, not wanting to weigh her down with the truth. Lydia wasn't convinced. "I know you're married to him," she stated plainly. "Ms. Kimberly told us months ago. But do you like him?" her directness unsettled me. There was something about her—an unusual insight, as if she understood more than she revealed.

 "Well, people marry because they like each other," I responded lightly. "So yes, I like him." A soft smile broke across her face, her posture relaxed. It was odd—she looked almost... relieved. It was strange—she looked almost… unburden of a great load. She wasn't too young to be his daughter, but it didn't quite fit. Alexandria was too meticulous. He had no patience for chaos, either in business or personal matters. "Lydia," I crouched down to her level, unable to contain my curiosity. "Why do you care so much if I like him?" She studied me, her expression impossible to read.

 "You don't know, do you?" A shiver ran down my spine. She turned her gaze to the long table, where Alexandria stood with his sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, his dark hair tousled. A child's ribbon was holding his ponytail together. He laughed—a deep, genuine sound. His eyes shone with something I had never seen before…. Happiness. This wasn't the man I knew. Cold, ruthless, always calculated. Here, among these children, he appeared different. Softer. For the first time, I was seeing the man that others admired, the one I had only heard about. Lydia's voice was quiet yet firm.

 "He doesn't smile much. But with us, he always makes sure we're happy. I don't have much time left, and I want him to be happy." I froze. "What do you mean you don't have much time?" She let go of my hand and pulled off her cap, My breath caught in my throat. Her head was bare. Smooth. 

Oh my God! 

The paleness, the fatigue, the quiet resilience, It all made sense now. Before I could speak, Alexandria appeared, lifting Lydia into his arms. She giggled, wrapping her small arms around his neck. 

"I wish I knew," I whispered, guilt digging deep within me. I had lied—I didn't genuinely like Alexandria. Not even as a person. But now, watching him with Lydia and seeing the raw emotion in his eyes made me question everything. 

He turned to me, his voice unusually tender. 

"join us. The food is getting cold." I walked beside him, my heart racing. This was the first time he had spoken to me with such calmness. It was never without orders, threats, or cold indifference. Yet, within these black gates, surrounded by children, he transformed into someone entirely different. And that frightened me more than anything.

Food was served, and I watched as he fed her with so much ease like that of a seasoned caretaker. This wasn't the man I once knew; he wasn't the same person who had left home with me.

"You should eat, Ashley. We have a lot to do after this, and we won't have time to sit down again," Ian reminded me from across the table. Reluctantly, I picked up my fork and started eating. To my surprise, the chef had not only prepared my favorite dishes but had also left out the ketchup. I despised it, yet I had no recollection of ever mentioning this to anyone.

 The children laughed at Ian's terrible jokes, the atmosphere light and calm, but nothing good lasts forever. The gates creaked open. A white Range Rover, a gray Porsche, and a black Mercedes rolled in. My grip on my fork loosened, and the cutlery clattered onto my plate, the noise jarring. Silence fell over the table as all eyes turned to me.