Chapter four

The apartment was too quiet when Alison got home. She kicked off her heels, the day's weight sinking into her bones. Her chest still ached from holding it together in front of Ralph. He made her feel like she didn't exist, like last night was nothing but a drunken accident she should regret. Maybe she did. But maybe she didn't. She glanced at her phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Jayden "School's asking for my fees again. Did you get the job?" She stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. He was still just a boy, still looking up to her like she could fix everything. He didn't know the kind of nights she endured just to keep him in that academy. He didn't know their aunt was barely holding on. He didn't know how many times she wanted to give up but couldn't because he only had her.

Her chest tightened. Without replying, she messaged her friend instead because she did not meet her at home. Going to see Aunt Liz at the hospital, cover for me if anyone calls. No hesitation. Her aunt had taken her and Jayden in after the accident that killed their parents. She never complained, never made them feel like a burden. But two years ago, everything changed. A rare autoimmune disease—Systemic Lupus Erythematosus—was eating her alive. The doctors said it could go either way. One minute stable, the next minute organs shutting down. The medications were expensive, and her savings had long vanished into tubes, blood work, and specialists.

Alison arrived at the hospital just before sunset. The corridor smelled like antiseptic and sadness. When she entered her aunt's room, the woman smiled through pale lips and tried to sit up. "Don't, Aunt Liz," Alison said gently, rushing to hold her. "You'll hurt yourself." Her aunt touched her face. "You always show up, baby girl. Even when the world's heavy." Alison blinked fast. "You showed up for me when you didn't have to. You fought for me and Jayden when you already had your own battles. I'm not going anywhere." They talked softly for a while—about Jayden's school, about the new job, about everything and nothing. Before she left, Alison spoke briefly with the doctor, asking if they needed new supplies or prescriptions, promising to send money soon.

She turned around, adjusting her purse strap when she caught a figure in the next ward, shoulders hunched, head bowed beside a hospital bed. The sight rooted her. Ralph?!! What the fuck is he doing there, Vulnerable. He held the hand of a woman whose features bore the same high cheekbones and proud lines as his. His lips moved, whispering something as tears slid down his face. Alison stood frozen, watching the man she knew as cold and untouchable fall apart. He looked up and saw her. His eyes widened, jaw tightening instantly. He stood abruptly, swiping at his tears like they betrayed him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply.

She stepped closer, heart pounding. "I came to visit my aunt. She's admitted here too." She hesitated, glancing at the woman on the bed. "Is she...?"

"My mother." His voice cracked as he hesitated not knowing if it's okay to talk to her but he can't hold it in anymore "Stage four cancer. It's spread everywhere. They say it's a miracle she's still talking."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He laughed bitterly. "Sorry? Do you know how much money we've thrown at this disease? Do you know what it's like to have everything, everything, but not be able to save the one person who made you who you are, I'm only suffering because of my sins, no need to apologize ". Tears rolled off his cheeks as if he remembered something.

Alison didn't know what to say. But she didn't have to say anything. She just stood there, and somehow, that was enough.

Ralph's eyes softened as they settled on her. "Why do you look at me like that?" he whispered. "Like I'm not the bastard who tried to erase you this morning?"

She stepped forward, lowering her voice. "Because I've seen enough pain to recognize it."

He said nothing. His breathing was shallow, his face pale. "You shouldn't see me like this."

"Too late."

Outside, the sun had dipped into dusk. Alison walked beside him in silence to the parking lot. He clutched his keys but looked like he was barely holding it together.

"Are you okay to drive?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"You're shaking."

He stopped. "Why do you care?"

She looked up at him. "Because I know what it's like to fall apart when no one's looking."

He didn't respond. Just handed her the keys. She opened the car, helped him into the back seat, and reached across to adjust the buckle. Her face was inches from his. Their breaths mingled in the stillness. She didn't move. Neither did he.

His eyes flicked to her lips.

She leaned back, but not fast enough.

He reached up, brushing her cheek. "You should hate me."

"I'm trying."

She didn't know who kissed first. One second she was blinking, and the next their lips collided, rough and desperate, years of pain and loneliness exploding in that small space. Ralph gripped her waist, pulling her deeper into his lap, hands sliding up her blouse, finding the swell of her breasts and cupping them like he'd been aching to. He moaned, low and ragged, against her lips. She gasped as his fingers squeezed gently, teasing her already sensitive peaks through the fabric.

"I shouldn't," he murmured, mouth grazing her throat. "But God, I can't stop."

She arched into him, letting herself feel wanted for the first time in months. But then it hit her—the weight of everything. Her job. Her aunt. Jayden.

She pulled away, breathless, eyes wide.

"I can't," she whispered. "Not like this."

Ralph blinked, his eyes stormy. "Right. Of course. That was—"

"Nothing," she said quickly, even though her body still burned.

The silence between them stretched like a rubber band pulled to its limits. She climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and didn't say a word as she drove him home. He didn't speak either. But the air in the car was thick with everything they weren't saying. Their bodies screamed for more, but their hearts broken and bruised weren't ready to listen.

The car was silent except for the soft hum of the engine and the sound of Ralph's breathing, still uneven from the tears he had tried to hide. Alison gripped the wheel tighter, glancing at him through the mirror. He had slouched back, one hand covering his face, the other resting limply by his side. He didn't say anything, and neither did she.

The weight of what she had just witnessed still pressed heavy on her chest. She had never seen him vulnerable before, never imagined a man like him could shatter so quietly. The city lights flickered against the windshield as they drove through the quiet streets.

Then the rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder, drumming against the roof, washing the night in silver. Ralph opened his eyes, watching the drops race down the glass. He wasn't thinking about his mother anymore, at least not only her. His thoughts had shifted to the woman in the front seat. Alison. The girl who had been haunting him since the moment she walked into his office. He had been with women, too many to count, but none of them made his chest ache the way she did. None of them stirred something raw and unwanted and irresistible deep inside him. She was just supposed to be a one-night thing. But here she was, driving him home like she belonged in his life. And the way she had touched his shoulder in that hospital, the way she didn't flinch at his tears... it wrecked something in him.

When they reached his mansion, neither waited. The downpour had grown heavier and they both rushed inside, soaked, breathless, damp hair sticking to their faces. Alison froze when she stepped in, eyes wide at the size and beauty of the living room. Marble floors, moody lights, expensive paintings—every inch screamed money and solitude. "You live here alone?" she asked, voice small. Ralph nodded, kicking off his shoes. "Not even staff?" "Only come in the mornings," he replied. She crossed her arms, shivering slightly. "I'll make coffee," she said. "You need something warm." He tilted his head and looked at her, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "No. What I need to warm me up is your body." She blinked at him, stunned. Then before she could protest, he stepped forward and scooped her into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen. He sat her gently on the island counter and without hesitation crashed his mouth into hers. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was rough, hungry, bruising, their wet clothes sticking to each other, hands groping without shame. Her fingers clawed at his suit jacket, and he tugged it off, letting it fall. His lips traveled down her jaw, to her neck, biting, tasting. She moaned, arching her back. Her nipples were already hard beneath her damp bra. He pushed the neckline of her dress down, yanked the bra cups aside, and groaned when her breasts spilled free. "Fuck, Alison," he muttered before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, flicking his tongue, making her gasp. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. "Ralph..." He pulled back, eyes wild. "I should stop." "Then stop," she whispered. "No... don't stop... fuck me, please." He didn't need to hear anything else. He lifted her from the counter, carried her through the massive hallway, and into his dimly lit bedroom. The rain kept falling, thunder rumbling far in the distance. He laid her on the bed, slowly pulling her dress up, fingers tracing every inch of her thighs, hooking her panties and sliding them down with agonizing slowness. She reached for his belt, but he stopped her. "Let me take my time," he whispered. He kissed down her stomach, spreading her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs, taking in her scent like he was starving. Then he peeled off his shirt, then his pants, until he stood naked before her, muscles tense, cock hard and already dripping. He climbed on the bed, kissed her again, deeper this time. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and when he finally slid into her, they both groaned, the world falling away. He moved slowly, deeply, filling her like no one ever had. She clawed at his back, whispered his name over and over, trembling beneath him. He kissed her again and again, thrusting harder, faster, until they both cried out. But he wasn't done. He held her tight, let her breathe, then started again, slower, deeper, as if memorizing every inch of her body. And when they came together again, it was quiet, like a storm passing. He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. They didn't speak. Didn't need to. The rain fell softly now. And both of them, tangled in sweat and sheets, drifted into sleep.