Chapter 4| I’ve already started making arrangements.

Xander

I watched her as she walked away, my eyes following her every movement with interest.

I shifted my gaze to my legs. For months, the pain in my legs had been constant. And it made no sense because I wasn't supposed to feel anything in my legs. I had lost the ability to feel them years ago. No doctor had been able to explain it, let alone stop it. And yet, this strange woman had reduced the pain with a single touch. Not fully, but enough that the sharp edge I’d grown so used to was gone, as though her fingers had undone something even modern medicine couldn’t.

I flexed my hand against the armrest of my wheelchair, staring down at where she’d touched me moments ago. How could she have known? How could something so simple make a difference where even the most experienced doctors had failed with expensive equipment?

It was... fascinating.

I exhaled, leaning back in my chair and glancing at the bridge railing. I hadn’t come here expecting company. The place was the only spot I could go to when I needed to think. It was quiet, secluded, and empty—just the way I preferred it.

So I wasn't expecting to see a woman standing on the edge of the bridge, about to end her life.

I would have minded my business, after all it didn't concern me. What people did with their lives wasn't my problem. If she wanted to jump, that was her decision. But then I saw her eyes—the look in them.

It was a look I knew too well, because I’d worn it myself, five years ago, when I was about to end my life on the very same bridge. But someone had saved me. A woman I didn’t know had grabbed my arm, much like I’d grabbed hers, and pulled me back. I’d never seen her again.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I’d saved her. My body moved faster than my thoughts, pulling her back from the edge.

I scoffed lightly to myself, shaking my head. She didn’t even seem to care that I hadn’t meant to save her. She just thanked me anyway.

“Sir?”

The sound of Luke’s voice behind me pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn’t bother turning to look at him—Luke was always there, his presence as familiar as the wheels beneath me.

“Sir, are you alright?” he asked. His tone was quiet, respectful, as always.

I glanced at him indifferently, the mask I always wore falling into place. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, turning my gaze back to the bridge.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. “The chairman has requested your presence at his house. He’s expecting you.”

I exhaled, straightening in my chair. “Let’s go,” I said flatly, waving Luke off.

He nodded, and I pressed the button to set the wheelchair in motion. As Luke helped me into the car and we began to drive away.

The car entered the estate, the gates sliding open. The headlights illuminated the long driveway lined with pristine hedges and expensive sculptures, each one a reminder of the wealth and power that surrounded my family. 

My father was one of the wealthiest men in the country. He had the world at his fingertips, controlling everything to suit his desires. Nobody dared go against him; they would be foolish to, because they knew the consequences.

Luke stepped out first, walking around to open the door for me. I didn’t say anything, and neither did he—he knew when to keep quiet. 

I stared at the bodyguards stationed everywhere with an indifferent look. The mansion loomed ahead, a vast, expensive display of excess. I ignored the weight of it and made my way inside, the sound of the wheels against the polished stone driveway.

The maids were waiting at the door, their heads bowed in greeting. “Welcome, young master,” they said in unison, their voices polite and rehearsed.

I ignored them, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. There was no point acknowledging them—it wasn’t like it mattered.

My gaze landed on the sitting room, where the faint sound of laughter spilled out 

My gaze landed on them.

There they were—my stepmother and her son, Nathan.

They were sitting on one of the expensive leather couches, laughing about something. Nathan said something, and my stepmother’s laughter grew louder.

Their laughter died down the moment they noticed me. Nathan’s grin faltered, and he straightened slightly, his eyes flickering with annoyance as he turned to face me. My stepmother’s smile, on the other hand, didn’t falter—it just shifted, becoming more polished, more artificial, the kind of smile she always wore around me.

“Xander,” She said, her voice as smooth as honey but just as fake. “We didn’t hear you come in. Is there a reason you’re here?”

I raised an eyebrow at her, my voice dark as I responded. “A reason I’m here? Do I need a reason to come here?”

Her smile froze, and I saw the brief flicker of unease in her eyes before she quickly shook her head. “Of course not,” she said, her tone overly bright. “This is your house.”

Nathan rested his arm on the back of the couch, his body relaxed as he gave me one of his signature condescending looks.

“How are you doing?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

I turned my gaze to him slowly, my expression settling into one of complete disinterest. I let the silence stretch for a moment, watching his smugness like I would a fly buzzing around my head—annoying, insignificant, and beneath me.

“You should worry about yourself,” I said flatly, my tone as cutting as it was effortless. “Last I heard, you still haven’t caught the person who swindled you out of your investments.”

Nathan’s smile faltered. It was a small break in his composure, but it was there, and it was enough to satisfy me. He quickly tried to recover, his lips pressing into a tight line as his mother placed a hand on his arm, murmuring something to calm him.

Before Nathan could respond, the butler stepped into the room, his face unreadable. “Master Xander, the chairman will see you now.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nathan’s reaction. His jaw tightened, and his grip on the couch’s armrest grew firmer. Jealousy flickered in his eyes, but he tried to mask it with indifference.

I didn’t bother acknowledging him. Instead, I moved past them without a word.

When I entered my father’s study, it was the same as always—dark wood-paneled walls, shelves of books more for appearance than use.

He sat behind his massive oak desk like a king on his throne, his posture rigid, his presence imposing.

“Xander,” he greeted, his voice calm but cold. “How are you?”

I didn’t bother playing into his attempts at pleasantries. “Let’s skip the formalities,” I said sharply. “Why did you call me here?”

If his gaze was cold, mine burned with hatred. Our relationship had been strained ever since the accident that happened when I was seven. 

One moment, I was in the backseat of the car with my mother, laughing as she promised we’d get ice cream after the trip. The next moment, there was nothing but chaos. Screeching tires, shattering glass, the sound of metal crumpling as the car flipped.

I woke up in a hospital bed to the news that I would never walk again. Worse than that was hearing that my mother didn’t survive the crash.

I was just a kid. I needed my father more than ever. But instead of being there, he started to pull away. The distance between us grew with every passing day, until he barely looked at me at all.

And then, just three weeks after my mother’s death, he brought her into the house. My stepmother. A stranger who wore my mother’s place on her arm as if it had always belonged to her. She brought her son, Nathan, with her—a boy who was loud, spoiled, and everything I was not.

The three of them slipped into a routine so quickly it was as if they had been waiting for my mother to disappear. And I… I was left to watch from the sidelines, a reminder of something they all wanted to forget.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling as he looked at me with that calculating expression he always wore. “Are you sure you still don't want to join the company?”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Nathan’s already there. Isn’t that enough for you?”

My father’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nathan is good,” he said, his tone even, “but I will not leave the company to someone who isn’t my son.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you but no,” I said simply, my voice firm.

His eyes hardened slightly, the temperature in the room dropping. He exhaled slowly, as if reining in his frustration. “Fine,” he said, his tone colder now. “If you don’t want to run the company, then you can prepare for marriage.”

I blinked, the words catching me off guard for just a moment before I recovered. “Marriage?” I repeated, scoffing again. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “If you won’t take over the company, then you’ll do your duty and provide an heir. I’ve already started making arrangements.”