Chapter 6

Meanwhile, on the third floor, the tension was thick.

"Let's go and catch them together now.Call your father too," Stephanie said firmly to her daughter, her voice low but sharp.

"Mother, I think we should catch them before they leave… If they're already gone, what's the point of calling Father? He won't believe it anyway," Xylia said, her brows furrowed, voice tight with urgency.

"Didn't you tell me last night that you got a message from Mr. Beck?" Stephanie asked.

"Yes, and he also sent me her photo—lying on his bed, unconscious." Xylia smirked.

"Precisely," Stephanie returned the smirk. "He might've already slept with her. God knows how many times he's touched that little whore. We need to catch them in the act. Your father won't be able to deny it if he sees it with his own eyes."

With no more words, they marched down the hallway, steps echoing like a war drum.

The door slammed open. Stephanie stormed into the study, her heels clacking on the polished wooden floor. Xylia followed, clutching her phone as though it were a weapon. Alison Macron looked up from his chair, startled.

"Father, I have something to tell you!" Xylia burst out, fury coating her voice.

Alison frowned, disliking his daughter's tone. "What is it?" he asked, his voice even but cold.

"It's Elaine," Xylia said, her voice rising. "Someone sent me a message… and a photo. She's in a room. With Mr. Beck."

Alison's brows furrowed deeper. "What do you mean—with Mr. Beck?"

Stephanie stepped forward, her expression ablaze with anger. "Exactly what she said. Your daughter is sleeping with a man twice her age. A man older than you!"

"She's my sister! How could she do this to us—to you? It's disgusting!" Xylia added dramatically, her eyes shimmering with a fake tear that refused to fall.

Alison stared at both of them, disbelieving. "No. That's not possible. My Elaine would never—"

"She wore the same silver dress from your birthday last night," Xylia interrupted, her voice shaking with practiced emotion. "She went from smiling with you… to lying with him! And if you don't believe me, then look at this!" She threw her phone onto the table, screen up.

Alison Macron picked it up with trembling hands. The screen lit up—Elaine, in that unmistakable dress, lying unconscious on a bed.

He staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. "No… No, that's not possible. My Elaine would never do that."

"Then open your eyes, Alison!" Stephanie screamed. "That is your precious daughter in that bed! Look at what she's become!"

"This is what happens when a girl grows up without a proper mother! No discipline. No shame. Just throwing herself at the first man who smiles at her!"

Xylia folded her arms, her face hard. "She's ruined everything. Your name. Our family. She made us all look like fools."

"She betrayed you," Stephanie added, her voice like a blade. "After everything you've done for her… this is how she repays you?"

Alison looked down at the photo again. His hands trembled. His eyes burned.

"Let's go. Now. Catch her before she sneaks away," Stephanie urged, stepping forward. "Let her see your face when you open that door."

Alison Macron didn't say a word. But the way he moved—stiff, cold, like stone come to life—said everything. He turned and walked down the hallway.

Stephanie followed close behind, hiding a small, satisfied smile.

They reached the end of the hall. The silence was thick with tension. Stephanie's heels clicked sharply on the floor, but no one dared speak.

Alison pushed open the door with sudden force.

The room was empty.

Dark. Quiet. Cold.

No Elaine. No Mr. Beck. No sounds except the wind rustling against the curtains.

Alison's chest rose and fell quickly. Then, his face darkened. He turned slowly to Stephanie and Xylia.

"No one is here!" he shouted. "You've deceived me!"

Stephanie froze mid-step.

Xylia's eyes went wide. "But… this was the room given to Mr. Beck," she said quickly. "I—I saw the room number myself!"

Alison pointed a shaking finger toward the hallway. "You brought me here to shame my daughter—and there's nothing! Nothing!"

Stephanie opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off with a sharp hand gesture. "Enough!"

Xylia stepped forward. "Father, please! Someone must have tricked me. Someone is trying to ruin Elaine's name—I swear I'll find out who did this!"

Alison didn't respond. His jaw clenched tightly. He turned away, his fists curling at his sides, and stormed off without another word.

Stephanie and Xylia were left standing in the hall, stunned and shaken. Their perfect plan—slipping through their fingers.

Later that evening, Alison sat alone in his office. The fire crackled softly. He stared into the flames, numb. The photo haunted him, but so did the lies.

Then, his phone buzzed again.

Another message from Xylia.

A new photo.

Elaine, walking down a quiet hallway, dressed in a soft cream lounge dress. Her hair tied back loosely. She looked calm. Innocent.

Alison's chest tightened.

His eyes drifted to the background. The door behind Elaine was ajar. Just enough to see the suite number.

Top floor. Suite 1.

His blood ran cold.

That suite didn't belong to guests. It was private. Reserved. Off-limits to nearly everyone.

That was Alpha Dante's suite.

No one—no one—was allowed up there without permission.

He began to sweat. His pulse hammered in his ears.

How could Elaine have been there?

Unless…

He couldn't finish the thought.

He grabbed his coat.

He had to find her.

Now.