Ava reached for the car door handle but hesitated, her fingers lingering against the cool metal. With a deep breath, she sank back into her seat, turning to Alexander. "Mr. Vanderbilt, if Miss Victoria Laurent comes after me again… can I still count on you for help?"
Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable weight behind her words. She wasn’t asking lightly. The Morales family couldn’t compete with the power and influence of the Laurents, let alone the Vanderbilts. Victoria was his girlfriend, and with his support, she could become even more ruthless.
Alexander’s hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze unreadable. A silence stretched between them before he finally spoke. "Why do you think I would take your side?"
Ava met his stare, determined. "It’s not about taking sides. It’s about doing what’s right. At least I never provoked Miss Laurent. She’s the one who sees me as a rival—even though, between you and me, Mr. Vanderbilt, there’s nothing going on."
The moment the words left her lips, she noticed a shift in his expression. His eyes darkened, sharp and assessing. The weight of his stare made her swallow hard.
He leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "How do you have the nerve to say there’s nothing going on?"
Ava felt her breath hitch. Her cheeks burned, her earlier confidence crumbling under his piercing gaze.
Alexander exhaled, turning his focus forward again, his fingers tightening subtly on the wheel. "I’m helping you because there is something between us."
Her heart skipped a beat, his words reverberating through her like a whispered secret she wasn’t ready to hear. The tension in the car thickened, charged with something unspoken.
"Ava," he continued, his voice low, certain. "If there was nothing between us… you wouldn’t even get to see me."
The truth in his statement sent a ripple through her, leaving her momentarily lost. Alexander Vanderbilt didn’t waste his time on just anyone. He wouldn’t be here, in this moment, with her, if she meant nothing.
Before she could gather a response, the door on her side clicked open. "Get out," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.
Still dazed, Ava stepped out, her mind a blur of thoughts. By the time she turned to say something, the sleek black car had already pulled away, its taillights glowing like distant embers against the night.
She stood motionless for a moment before sighing and pressing a hand to her forehead. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like the world had momentarily shifted.
Even as she made her way inside and splashed cool water on her face, the weight of the moment lingered. The flirtation, the intensity—it clung to her skin, refusing to wash away.
After stepping out of the shower, the cool air of the room wrapped around Ava’s damp skin. She ran a towel through her hair as she picked up her phone, its screen glowing with a new message from Rachel.
Rachel: "What's going on? I heard Alexander sent Michelle out of the country, caused a huge scene at the Laurent family estate, and even Victoria stepped in. Now Michelle's on a plane and won’t be able to return to New York for the rest of her life. Ava, do you think he's finally coming to his senses? Is this a sudden enlightenment? Is he actually going to end things with Victoria?!"
Ava let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. If only Rachel knew the truth. But she couldn’t tell her that she had played a part in all of this.
Before she could even type a response, another message popped up.
Rachel: "If Alexander and Victoria are having problems, this is the perfect time for you to make a move! You don’t know how many people have been gossiping about them tonight. Victoria is furious—she even posted on social media claiming their relationship is ‘strong as ever.’ Ava, listen to me. Go back to Ashbourne Manor right now, put on something sexy, and wait for him. Trust me, with your body and that face, Alexander won’t be able to resist! Then Victoria won’t stand a chance!"
Ava sighed, rubbing her temples as if she could physically push away Rachel’s relentless scheming. She could hear the urgency in her friend’s words even through the phone.
She exhaled and typed back:
Ava: "Rachel, I’m a little tired. I think I’ll just rest for now."
Rachel hesitated, then responded after a few seconds.
Rachel: "Fine. I get it. With everything happening in the Morales family, you probably have a lot on your mind. Just… don’t miss your chance, okay?"
Ava put her phone down, staring at the ceiling for a moment. She could still feel the warmth of the shower clinging to her skin, but beneath it, a strange coldness settled in her chest.
Was Alexander really coming to his senses? Or was this just another shift in a game where she had never truly known the rules?
She reached for the bedside lamp, turning it off. The room sank into darkness, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Ava slept soundly that night, oblivious to the turmoil brewing elsewhere. Others, however, were not so fortunate—especially the Morales family.
Valentina had meticulously orchestrated a clash between Ava and Victoria, expecting nothing short of total destruction between the two women. She had been present at the hospital earlier, witnessing Michelle’s desperate attempt to stab Ava, and she had relished in the chaos that had unfolded. She had envisioned an explosive fallout, a spectacle that would see Ava humiliated and the Laurents dragged into scandal.
But the night had taken an unexpected turn.
Instead of the disaster she had anticipated, Alexander had stood by Ava’s side. He had shielded her, defended her. The realization struck Valentina like a dagger to the chest. How? How could that nobody, that pathetic woman who had been cast aside for years, now have Alexander Vanderbilt standing in her corner?
Her jealousy burned hot, glowing in her eyes like embers stoked into flames. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was personal.
Valentina clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She had merely wanted to reap the benefits of the Morales family's downfall, but now she felt something far stronger—a seething, uncontrollable hatred.
Ava's life was too charmed, too undeserved. The husband she had stumbled upon, by nothing more than dumb luck, was Alexander Vanderbilt. And he wasn’t indifferent to her. No, that was the most unbearable part. He actually cared for her.
No.
Valentina refused to let this continue. If Ava remained at Alexander’s side, she would become untouchable. There would be nothing left for Valentina.
Her heart pounded with rage as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Outside her room, the sound of glass shattering pierced through the air. Josh had been like this for days—short-tempered, explosive, unraveling at the seams.
Valentina smoothed her hair, gathering herself before stepping out.
Josh stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving with fury. The broken remnants of a vase lay at his feet, shards glistening under the dim light. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists.
"Brother," Valentina said, her voice smooth and coaxing. "Don't lose your temper yet. Michelle is out of the country now, Alexander is clearly siding with Ava, but we still have a chance."
Josh let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "A chance? Do you even understand what’s happening?" His voice was thick with frustration. "Dad is in the hospital because he caught Mom and Kenny. Cheating."
Valentina’s eyes widened. She had known Alfonso was hospitalized, but she hadn’t known why. Her stomach twisted as she processed the implications.
Josh continued, his tone dripping with bitterness. "When Dad wakes up, we’re finished. Mom’s shares will be revoked. Everything will go to Ava. The Morales business will be hers alone!"
Valentina’s breath hitched. That couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen.
She had fought too hard to climb out of the gutter. She had worn rags once. Lived in filth. She was never going back.
Her nails tapped against the wooden frame of the doorway as she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to think. "Mom still has influence over Dad, doesn’t she?" she asked, voice low and calculated.
Josh gave a sharp nod. "She was planning to make sure he never wakes up. But Ava hired two damn bodyguards. No one's been able to get close to him." He let out a heavy breath, rubbing his temples. "And now, Kenny is in the hospital too. I'm starting to wonder if someone knew about him and Mom this whole time and was just waiting to strike."
Valentina's stomach twisted again. If there were another hand at play in this, things could spiral out of control.
Still, she had no time to waste worrying about that.
A slow, knowing smile crept onto her lips. "Then we make things messy for Ava. The grandparents—send them to the hospital. Have them demand to see Dad. Those bodyguards might be good at their job, but they can’t be seen roughing up frail, grieving old people. If one of them gets even a scratch, it’ll be Ava’s problem."
Josh’s face darkened before a slow smirk formed. He let out a low chuckle. "That’s... not bad. We need disruptions, distractions." His grin faded, his voice turning sharp. "But let’s be clear. In order for us to keep our place in this family, Dad has to go."
Neither of them flinched at the words.
Josh had long lost any affection for Alfonso. His mind was clouded with resentment, frustration, and the lingering humiliation of his own impotence. He wanted Ava ruined. He wanted control. That was all that mattered.
Valentina?
Her thoughts were singular, razor-sharp.
She wanted Alexander.
She didn’t care about the Morales business. She didn’t care about Josh or Michelle. The only thing she cared about was that Ava had what she wanted—and that was something she would never allow.
With Alfonso out of the way, the game would reset.
And when it did, Valentina would make sure that Alexander Vanderbilt belonged to her.
---------
On the outskirts of New York City, in a modest two-story home, Ricardo and Martina sat anxiously at the worn dining table, their eyes locked on Sergio as he stepped through the front door. The dim overhead light flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the room. Martina wrung her hands together, unable to mask her impatience.
"Sergio, how did it go? Did the bank approve the application?" she asked, her voice sharp with urgency.
Sergio sighed heavily as he set his briefcase down on the counter. The weight of the past few weeks had settled into the lines on his forehead. He was a man in his late forties, caught in the relentless cycle of supporting aging parents, raising two sons, and constantly dreading the next round of layoffs at work.
His younger brother, Alfonso, had once been the only other real prospect in the family, but their parents had made a choice long ago. Back then, the family barely had enough to survive, and when it came time for college, only one son could go. They chose Sergio. Alfonso, still a teenager, had been forced to work part-time jobs to cover his brother’s tuition.
And now, decades later, Sergio found himself in an uneasy position—standing on shaky ground, worrying that a pink slip could come at any moment and crush his family under the weight of their $4,500 monthly mortgage.
A few days ago, Ricardo and Martina had managed to track down Alfonso. To everyone’s shock, he was apparently wealthy beyond their imagination. They had returned home that day with an astounding $450,000 in cash—just like that. They had heard rumors that Alfonso’s in-laws, the James family, lived in a luxurious villa in the heart of New York City, and that Alfonso himself owned properties worth millions. On top of that, he was running a company?
Sergio had struggled to believe it. He had spent years grinding away in the corporate world, armed with a prestigious degree, only to find himself one step away from financial ruin. Alfonso, on the other hand—who had never even gone to college—was supposedly living in luxury? It stung.
At first, he had dismissed it as a scam. But when his parents returned with more money than he had ever seen in one place, doubt crept in. And now, standing before them, he had undeniable proof.
He cleared his throat. "Mom, the early repayment was approved. The bank took the money, and we don’t have to worry about the mortgage anymore.”
Martina’s eyes widened in delight, her lips parting in an almost giddy smile. But within moments, that excitement morphed into something else—greed.
"Alfonso’s family must be rolling in money," she mused. "They just handed over $450,000 like it was nothing. You should have seen that villa, Sergio—it’s enormous. Each floor must be thousands of square feet. We could all move in there and rent this place out!"
Sergio tensed. He was jealous, yes, but he also wasn’t blind to the reality of their relationship with Alfonso. Their parents had never so much as checked in on him over the years, let alone offered financial help. Now, suddenly, they wanted to move in? He doubted Alfonso would take them in with open arms.
"Mom," he said, keeping his tone measured, "didn’t you say Alfonso is still in a coma?"
Martina waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, but his second wife has already brought her son into the picture. If something happens to Alfonso, don’t you realize what that means? His entire fortune will go to them! He only has two daughters—Serena and Valentina. You’ve met Serena. Valentina has always been sickly. What can two daughters do? But if you let Alfonso adopt one of your sons, then at least part of the Morales family’s assets will stay with us."
Ricardo, who had been quietly nodding along, spoke up. "Exactly! What can two daughters do? Sergio, listen to your mother. You should come with us to the Morales Group. Alfonso already has a company here in New York. You’re afraid of getting laid off? Don’t be. We’ll all work at the Morales family’s business!"
Sergio felt a surge of anxiety rise in his chest. He had spent his whole life climbing the corporate ladder, always fearful of job instability. But now, hearing his parents talk about Alfonso’s wealth as if it was their birthright, he felt something different—panic. If Alfonso really was in a coma, and his second wife took control, their chance at a fortune could slip away just like that.
His face flushed red, as if the money itself was being stolen from his own hands.
Sergio had always been the favored son. Ricardo and Martina had showered him with attention, always saving the best for him while Alfonso was pushed aside. And when Alfonso had married Elena and had a daughter instead of a son, they had cared even less about him. In their eyes, Alfonso had been a dead end. But now? Now, he was their ticket to wealth.
Just as they were discussing their next move, Ricardo’s phone buzzed. He answered, listened intently, then nodded. "We need to go to the hospital now," he said, hanging up. "If we don’t show up and act like a loving family while Alfonso is unconscious, he won’t recognize us when he wakes up."
Martina pursed her lips, thinking it over, then turned to Sergio. "You stay here and wait for good news," she said. "I’ll make sure Alfonso agrees to adopt one of your boys. Once that’s done, the family’s assets will belong to your child—which means, ultimately, they’ll belong to you."
Sergio’s heart pounded. His lips parted slightly as he processed the implications. The thought of securing a future for his children—of securing his own financial stability—made his hands tremble with anticipation.
His parents were right. If Alfonso truly was as wealthy as they claimed, then securing even a small piece of his empire would be life-changing.
He swallowed hard and nodded. "Good luck."
Martina smiled. "Don’t worry. We’ll make sure everything goes our way."
With that, she and Ricardo grabbed their coats and stepped out into the night, their minds already spinning with plans for the future. Sergio sat back in his chair, his mind racing.
For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.
---Martina and Ricardo rushed to the hospital, their urgency palpable as they pushed their way toward Alfonso’s room. Their desperation, however, was met with an unyielding blockade—two bodyguards standing like statues at the door.
“No entry,” one of them stated firmly, arms crossed over his broad chest.
Martina’s temper flared instantly. “Do you know who I am? The man inside is my son! How dare you stop me from seeing him?” Her voice rose, sharp and indignant. “What exactly are you trying to pull here? And you two—you're just bodyguards, his mere servants! Who gave you the right to defy me?”
She was used to getting her way. When words failed, she resorted to theatrics. Without hesitation, she raised a manicured hand and slapped one of the bodyguards across the face. The crack of skin against skin echoed down the hospital corridor.
The bodyguard barely flinched, his face impassive.
Martina wasn’t done. Frustrated, she shoved against his arm, but it was like pushing a brick wall. Meanwhile, Ricardo, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. With exaggerated weakness, he let himself fall dramatically to the floor, groaning as if in agony.
"Doctor!" Martina shrieked, her voice piercing. "Someone get a doctor! They're trying to kill my husband!”
People in the corridor began to murmur, drawn in by the commotion. The bodyguards exchanged glances, their patience wearing thin. One of them silently pulled out his phone and dialed Ava.
---Ava had, for once, enjoyed a decent night’s sleep. But peace was fleeting, and her morning was already stacked with tasks. When her phone buzzed, she picked it up, only to hear about the chaos unfolding at the hospital.
A sigh left her lips. These two again.
Without wasting time, she grabbed her car keys and drove straight there.
The moment she stepped into the hospital lobby, the sight that greeted her was downright embarrassing. Martina and Ricardo were sprawled on the floor, screeching like wounded animals.
"Murder! Murder!" Martina howled dramatically, as if she were a tragic heroine in a play.
Ava didn’t bother masking her irritation. She crossed her arms and spoke coldly. “Had enough yet?”
Martina’s crocodile tears dried up in an instant. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Ava, and a sneer twisted her lips. “Listen to you. Is that how you talk to your elders? No respect, no manners at all. What an ungrateful child.”
Ava inhaled deeply, schooling her features into indifference. Then, her gaze flickered to the bodyguard standing stiffly at the door, a red handprint blooming on his cheek.
"Miss Morales," the bodyguards greeted her politely, knowing she was close to Shelley.
Ava tilted her head, her patience all but gone. "If they don’t stop causing a scene, throw them out the window. I’ll handle any compensation."
The bodyguards, who had endured the elderly couple’s antics for far too long, barely hesitated. They moved swiftly, gripping Martina by her arms and dragging her toward the window.
Martina’s bravado vanished in an instant.
"W-What are you doing?! You wouldn't dare!" she shrieked, kicking wildly.
Ricardo, who had still been lying on the floor for dramatic effect, suddenly turned ghostly pale. He scrambled up the moment he saw Martina dangling precariously over the ledge.
"Stop! Stop this madness!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Serena, have you lost your mind? This is a law-abiding society!”
Ava didn’t so much as blink. "Throw him out too. Every time they cause trouble, toss them both out.”
The bodyguards took her words as permission and stepped toward Ricardo.
The elderly man stiffened, realizing she wasn’t bluffing. His hands trembled as he hurriedly shouted, “Alright! We won’t make trouble anymore! Just put her down!”
Ava raised an eyebrow, considering. If he fainted from sheer terror, she’d only have more issues to deal with. After a long pause, she nodded.
The bodyguards released Martina, and she stumbled to the floor, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Ricardo clutched his chest, still cursing under his breath. “Bastard child… You’ll get your karma for this. Mark my words!”
Ava, unimpressed, merely checked the time on her watch. “You have three minutes to leave. If you come back, I guarantee you’ll be staying here permanently.”
Her tone was calm, but the weight of her words sent a shudder through Ricardo’s spine. He grabbed Martina’s arm, dragging her toward the elevator. She was too shaken to resist.
As soon as the elevator doors shut, Martina collapsed against the wall, panting.
Ricardo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “We’ll go back and talk to Sergio. That girl is heartless. Just like her mother.”
Martina’s lips trembled, still too shaken to form a coherent response.
---Meanwhile, Ava remained standing in the hospital corridor. She took a moment to address the onlookers, offering a brief explanation to dispel any misunderstandings. Then, she turned to the bodyguards.
"Sorry for the trouble," she said.
One of them waved her off. “It’s nothing, Miss Morales. We’re just glad it’s over.”
Ava nodded and turned her attention to the doctor. “How’s Alfonso?”
"Stable," the doctor reassured her.
A weight lifted from Ava’s shoulders. For now, that was enough.
---Back at the Morales humble home, Martina and Ricardo stumbled through the front doors. Sergio, who had been pacing anxiously, immediately turned toward them.
His eyes were alight with hope. “How did it go?”
Ricardo shook his head, still rattled. “Don’t ask. Just get your mother some water first.”
Sergio frowned, confused by their shaken state. But as he moved to fetch the glass, a sense of dread settled in his gut. Whatever had happened at the hospital, it was clear—Serena wasn’t someone they could manipulate so easily anymore.
Ava made her way to Le Châteauesque Manor today. It had been a few days since she last checked in on Rex, and the thought of how his surgical wound was healing gnawed at her.As she stepped through the grand iron gates, the scent of freshly trimmed hedges and late-blooming roses filled the crisp afternoon air. The estate's sprawling gardens, once a place of quiet solace, felt strangely empty without Rex bounding through them.Aunt Torres's face lit up the moment she spotted Ava, her warm smile deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. "I just took Rex for a walk," she said, brushing her hands against her apron. "Rex has been restless."With Alexander still absent, Aunt Torres hadn't dared let Rex roam freely. Instead, the loyal dog had been confined to the spacious back room, his days spent pacing within its walls.As soon as Ava entered, Rex's ears perked up, and the sound of his frantic barking echoed through the manor. He recognized her instantly.Her heart ached.She hurried over, cr
The nurse hesitated for a moment but then entered Alfonso’s hospital room, pushing the small stainless steel tray in front of her. The overhead fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the stark white walls, and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the air.The two bodyguards stationed outside barely spared her a glance. She was the same nurse who had been tending to Alfonso’s care for days, her presence routine and unremarkable.Inside, Alfonso lay motionless on the hospital bed, his breathing slow and mechanical. His face was gaunt, his skin sallow under the artificial lighting. The machines beside him hummed a rhythmic yet fragile tune, a constant reminder of his precarious condition.With practiced hands, the nurse reached for the syringe, carefully drawing the medication into it, preparing to inject it into the IV bag.But just as she brought the needle close to the drip chamber, Alfonso’s eyes shot open—wide and filled with sudden panic. His body convulsed, his chest heaving
The night was quiet, the air thick with the crisp scent of freshly cut grass and damp earth. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves in the vast garden of Le Châteauesque Manor.Rex stood at the door, his tail wagging wildly, thudding against the frame in rapid succession. Ava paused mid-step, frowning slightly. Aunt Torres must have forgotten to shut the door again.Before she could take another step, Rex bolted towards her, nearly knocking into her legs as he circled frantically. His body trembled with restless energy, his paws scuffing against the polished floor as if pleading with her for something. He let out a soft whimper, then barked—loud and insistent."Shh," Ava hushed him quickly, glancing toward the dimly lit hallway. The last thing she needed was to wake Aunt Torres.Rex, however, was having none of it. He planted his feet, resisting her grip on his leash, his entire body taut with tension. It was strange—normally, he was obedient. But tonight, he
Alexander finished his breakfast at a leisurely pace before heading straight to the Vanderbilt Group. The crisp morning air held a slight chill, though it did little to cool the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.As he arrived at the entrance of the sleek, glass-fronted headquarters, a familiar figure stood waiting. Ava.She looked exhausted—her usually bright eyes dulled with fatigue, the shadows beneath them betraying a sleepless night. The soft fabric of her blouse was slightly wrinkled, her posture tense with urgency."Alexander, about Rex..." Her voice was hoarse, carrying the weight of concern.He didn’t break stride, his polished dress shoes tapping against the marble floor as he passed her without a glance. "I was drunk last night and made a mistake," he said coolly. "Rex wasn’t with me."Liar.Ava remained frozen in place, watching his retreating back. If she hadn’t seen Rex at Le Châteauesque Manor with her own eyes, she might have believed him.Why on earth would
Dear Gentle Readers, Let’s play a game of guessing which character said the quote on the chapter title... Comment who you think say "I want Ava. And I want her now!" before you read this chapter...E.C. ---------Josh's bloodshot eyes locked onto the car speeding ahead of him, his grip on the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Fury coiled inside him like a viper, ready to strike. He wanted nothing more than to crash into her, to force her to a stop—to make Ava his, no matter the cost.But Ava was faster. It was as if she could anticipate his every move, her driving precise, calculated. He floored the gas pedal, ignoring the blaring sirens that suddenly erupted behind him. Police patrol cars closed in, their flashing red and blue lights reflecting off his windshield, but Josh was beyond caring. He wouldn't let them stop him—not before he got Ava.The problem was, she had already slipped through his fingers.Le Châteauesque Manor had strict speed restrictions, and
Bridgitte’s face drained of all color, as if she’d just been slapped in front of a crowd. Her lips parted in disbelief. “Mr. Vanderbilt…”But Alexander didn’t spare her a glance. His cold eyes swept over the rest of the room instead, voice firm and devoid of emotion. “Consider this a warning.”His tone cut through the air like a blade. Not once did he acknowledge Bridgitte’s presence or feelings, making her humiliation all the more bitter.Trying to salvage her pride, Bridgitte stammered, “I—I’m Raphael’s girlfriend. Things have been going really well between us lately, so if you could just—”Her words trailed off as Alexander finally looked at her—his gaze so cold, so piercing, that she froze mid-sentence. In that moment, Bridgitte’s resentment toward Ava deepened, festering quietly beneath her skin.Without another word, Alexander turned on his heel and left, his tailored coat fluttering behind him.Jonathan remained, stepping forward with his usual composed demeanor. He looked ov
Serena’s phone buzzed just as she was leaving a meeting. The hospital's name flashed on the screen. The voice on the other end was clipped, urgent. Josh had fallen into a coma.The doctor had been reaching out to everyone on Josh's contact list, one by one—standard protocol in emergencies, but the kind that never felt routine.By the time Serena arrived at the hospital, the sterile hallways echoed with sobs. Araminta was already there, curled in on herself like a grieving wraith on one of the stiff waiting room chairs, her eyes puffy and red, her cheeks streaked with mascara. She clutched Josh’s phone as if it were his lifeline.The moment Araminta spotted Serena walking through the glass doors, her sorrow twisted into rage.“You bitch!” she screamed, eyes blazing. “Did you set him up? You murderer. I’m calling the cops on you!”Before Serena could say a word, Araminta charged like a fury unchained, arm raised to slap. Serena’s reflexes kicked in. She caught Araminta’s wrist mid-air an
Ava stepped out of the hospital, her emotions wound tight like a storm that had yet to pass. Her hands trembled as she held onto her purse, and she knew—there was no way she could drive like this. So, she walked. No destination in mind, no plan. Just walked.The midday sun beat down relentlessly, baking the pavement beneath her feet. Her vision blurred, not from the heat, but from the tears that slipped down her cheeks, uninvited and unchecked. She didn’t bother to stop them. Instead, she drifted toward a nearby bench tucked beneath a skeletal tree that offered little shade. She sank onto it, clutching her bag in her lap as though it were the only thing holding her together.With shaky fingers, she tried wiping the tears away, but they kept coming. Her small frame hunched forward as if trying to shrink away from the world. The sun bore down on her mercilessly, its rays highlighting every fragile line of emotion on her face. She looked heartbreakingly vulnerable—an open wound in the mi
Alexander couldn't focus, his thoughts scattered and restless. As his phone rang with a call from a business partner, he seized the moment and stood up.“Grandpa, the business partner is calling. I need to go over the details of this morning’s meeting,” he said, already moving away.Grandpa let out a long, weary sigh. To him, it looked like Alexander was just eager to escape. “If you put that much effort into Serena,” he grumbled, “you two would have had a house full of kids by now. Go on, but no matter how busy work gets, don’t forget the wife waiting for you at home.”Alexander didn’t answer. He slipped into his car and glanced at the dashboard clock—8:00 PM. Ignoring the call still ringing on his screen, he turned the key and headed straight to the hotel.By the time he arrived, it was 8:30.His phone buzzed again. It was Jonathan, this time with more urgent news—Ryan had been arrested, and sensitive information about PW Group had been leaked. By morning, the media would be ablaze w
The Vanderbilt building was unusually still for a Friday evening. Outside, the city buzzed as it always did, but inside Alexander’s top-floor office, silence reigned.The only light came from the city skyline pouring in through floor-to-ceiling windows. Alexander stood by the glass, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a thick, official envelope.The divorce had been finalized. Her name — Serena Ava Morales Vanderbilt — would no longer be linked to his. And yet, the weight in his chest hadn’t budged. If anything, it had settled deeper.The quiet was broken by the buzz of his phone.Hugo.He answered with a low, “Yeah?”“Finally!” Hugo’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You’re free. About damn time, man.”Alexander didn’t respond.“So,” Hugo continued, voice laced with mischief, “how about some celebratory drinks? I’ve got a private room at 230 Fifth, and I might’ve invited a few… distractions.”“Hugo—”“Come on, don’t be boring. Half the city would give their left arm for a
Ava sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, Rex’s warm head resting against her knee. The golden retriever let out a soft, contented sigh, completely unaware of the life-changing moment that had just arrived.On the table before her lay a sealed envelope.Her name printed clearly beneath it:Serena Ava Morales Vanderbilt.She knew what it was. In fact, she’d been waiting for this moment for years — though not in longing or hope.She had never begged for Alexander’s attention. Never sought his approval.Not five years ago, when she signed that marriage certificate under the cold gazes of the powerful Vanderbilt family and Alfonso, her father’s watchful eyes.Not when he had left the country right after signing the marriage certificate without a word, abandoning a marriage neither of them had wanted.She had lived alone since then.Alone with the Morales debt, the fading reputation of he
Alexander didn’t remember much of the drive back. The city was a blur of lights and shadows, his thoughts tangled and restless. The tight knot in his chest refused to ease.The image of Ava — Serena — standing by that window lingered with painful clarity. The hollow look in her eyes. The way her voice had cracked when she spoke of dignity, safety, and the things he’d stripped from her.He’d always considered himself a man in control, measured and strategic in every move, every decision. But tonight, for the first time, he felt powerless.And ashamed.He’d broken something he had no right to touch. Now, all he could do was try — maybe hopelessly — to repair what pieces remained.By the time he arrived at the Vanderbilt estate, the staff were long asleep, and the house was quiet. But he didn’t stop there. He headed straight to his private study, locking the door behind him.He pulled out his phone and made a call.Jonathan picked up on the second ring, sounding slightly groggy. “Sir?”A
The city lights blurred past as Alexander sped through the streets, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The cool night air seeped through the slightly opened window, but it did nothing to calm the restless storm inside him.For the first time in years, his usually sharp, calculated mind was clouded — not by business, not by rivals, but by a woman.His wife.And how badly he’d wronged her.Ava. Serena.Every time he said either name in his head now, it twisted something deep in his chest.He thought back to her messages — not a single word of accusation, not one plea for sympathy.Even after everything, she hadn’t used his name.She called him Mr. Vanderbilt.Professional. Distant. Like a stranger.And wasn’t that what he’d made himself?As he pulled into the underground parking of the hotel, he sat in the car for a long moment. His reflection in the windshield stared back at him — polished, cold, successful. A man respected, feared, envied. But none of that meant anything now.He gr
Alexander let out a sigh, leaning back in the chair as his grandfather rifled through a worn leather photo album placed neatly beside the chessboard. The old man flipped through its pages, mumbling to himself. The room felt heavier somehow, the air thick with nostalgia and something Alexander couldn’t quite name.Alexander leaned back against the worn leather chair in the grand sitting room of the Vanderbilt Mansion, pretending to sip his tea while his grandfather, Cornelius Vanderbilt Sr., dug through an old photo album. The scent of aged paper and tea leaves hung in the air, mixing with the warm, familiar atmosphere of a home built on old money and endless pride.He didn’t want to be here.His mind had been elsewhere all evening — on Ava.The hotel. The time. Her waiting.She’d agreed to meet him there, not because she wanted to — but because she had no choice.Because of Ryan Kuzmin.Alexander had promised her that if she surrendered to his terms — ten nights, no conditions — he wou
Dear Gentle Readers, Thank you for your support from the beginning until this point. This author really appreciates it. Never thought this story will have these many readers...This author understands your wish for this story to end therefore there will be 2 branches of the story from here onwards. The first branch is for Alexander to realize that Ava is Serena and the story can conclude there.The second branch is what the author has already prepared from the beginning. All good things must come to an end at some point...Please enjoy the ride and if you wish to read other story, please check out "Taming the Wild CEO" which has the following premise :For nearly four years Ella Stanford has been working as a secretary to Javier Summers, and for most of that time, she has been fighting her own feelings for him. Javier was undeniably sexy but she knew she should never fall for a ruthless playboy. He has never paid heed to her, so this has not been a problem but a struggle on her own
When Ava pulled up in front of the boutique, she sat frozen in her car for a long minute, her fingers clutching the steering wheel, her heart pounding. The neon lights reflected off the windshield in lurid pinks and reds, making everything feel surreal.With a deep breath, she opened the door, keeping her head down as she briskly walked toward the entrance.Inside, a burst of artificial floral perfume and soft pop music hit her. The boutique was dimly lit, with shimmering silk and lace displayed under glowing spotlights. Ava didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes.The sales clerk approached — a middle-aged woman with shrewd eyes and a practiced smile that brightened the moment she saw Ava.“Beautiful lady, what kind are you looking for?” the woman asked warmly.Ava’s mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. She had no experience here — none of this belonged in her world. “A-anything is fine…” she stammered, avoiding the clerk’s gaze.The woman’s expression turned stern. “How can you be so c
By evening, after back-to-back meetings and an unrelenting day of negotiations, Alexander finally stepped out of the conference room. The moment he entered his office, his sharp gaze landed on Ava, quietly seated by the window.She looked pale, her skin almost translucent under the soft light, but her eyes held steady — calm, guarded, as though nothing from the night before had ever happened. Not a flicker of hesitation, not a single ripple.Alexander moved to his chair, sitting down with the unhurried grace of a man who always controlled the room. His eyes swept over her.She had a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, a strange choice for this mild evening. It couldn’t hide everything though — a hint of bruising peeked from beneath the fabric. A turtleneck would’ve made more sense, but in this weather, it would have drawn too much attention.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” Ava said evenly, breaking the heavy silence.“I won’t back out from the remaining nine times. But can you give me Ryan’s info