07|He is waiting for her to come back.

Alexander pov

“We haven’t seen each other in a year, in a year, Alexander Knight, and the first thing you do is shoot at me!?” Daniel exclaimed, rubbing his temples in frustration. His feet tapped impatiently on the ground as he tried to regain his composure, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

I didn’t respond right away, my expression calm as I sat there, my fingers absently tapping on the desk between us. His eyes were shooting daggers at my hand, glaring at it with so much intensity, but I pretended not to notice.

“Well?” he asked, his voice laced with impatience, waiting for any kind of explanation.

I shrugged, offering nothing more than a casual glance.

“I didn’t shoot at you,” I said nonchalantly, “I shot at the wall behind you.”

His mouth opened, ready to retort, but I was already tuning him out, not even bothering to listen to whatever he was about to say.

Instead, my attention shifted to Felix, who sat quietly in the far corner of the office. His eyes were distant, almost as if lost in thought, staring out the window with that faraway look like he was watching a world I couldn’t see.

Earlier, after I had shot at this bastard in front of me—unfortunately missing—everything else had turned into a blur. There were screams, curses, and Daniel desperately bribing every witness to keep their mouths shut. But the most infuriating part? He somehow managed to coax Felix into not entering the operating room.

He had told Felix that his presence might disrupt the surgery and cause issues for the patient. Felix, who seemed to have the brain of an adult for a five-year-old, understood those words from Daniel, paused, and, though reluctant, agreed to wait until the surgery was over.

I turned my attention back to Daniel, who was now pointing a finger at me, his face red with frustration.

“Do you have any idea what I had to do to clean up your mess? Of course not! All you do is point your gun and—”

"Answer my goddamn question. You're lucky I didn’t shoot you for the stunt you pulled last time," I cut him off sharply, halting the rhythmic drumming of my fingers on the desk. My eyes locked onto his, narrowed in a clear warning.

He froze mid-retort, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His finger, still pointed accusingly at me, hung awkwardly in the air.

“W-what stunt? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his gaze darting elsewhere as guilt crept across his face.

I didn’t have the patience for this.

“Maybe this time, I won’t miss on purpose,” I said flatly, reaching for my gun.

Before I could grab it, he shot up from his seat, his hands quickly stopping mine. “Alright, alright! Fine, I’m sorry, okay? How was I supposed to know the woman I slept with was married to a gangster? Do you think I wanted to be kidnapped and have you save me? I’m still traumatized from that day, alright?”

His body trembled slightly, but I just stared at him with an unimpressed expression.

“How is the woman doing? Is she going to make it?” I asked, steering the conversation back to what mattered and breaking the awkward silence.

Daniel cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat as his expression turned grim. “The surgery is still ongoing,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Her injuries are severe. The brain surgery alone is complicated, but her facial nerves are badly damaged as well. She’s going to need reconstructive surgery after this—if she makes it through. We also need to contact her family. They’ll have to sign the consent form before we can proceed with the facial surgery.”

My frown deepened at his words, and I shook my head, my tone clipped. “Sebastian is working on a background check. We’ll be able to contact her family soon.”

My eyes flickered to Felix for a brief moment. Daniel followed my gaze and sighed heavily before speaking again.

“Is it Nico this time too?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “The accident—Sebastian told me the patient blocked the truck to save Felix.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as my hands curled into fists at the mere mention of that name. That bastard. I would have his head for this—the same way he had taken my wife’s life. The scene was too familiar, too deliberate. He had used the same method—a truck to topple the car.

My son had survived that day, but my wife, Emily, hadn’t. She had used her body as a shield to protect Felix, sacrificing herself in the process. And now, Felix had been forced to relive the same nightmare again today. My chest burned with fury, the memory of that day still raw, still fresh.

“You still haven’t told anyone about Emily’s death,” Daniel said quietly, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. I turned my gaze towards him, my eyes narrowing slightly.

“Why do you keep hiding her death from the world, Alexander?” he continued. “It’s been a year. You can’t keep this secret much longer—not from the world, and certainly not from Felix. Everyone thinks she went abroad, but Felix hasn’t seen his mother for a year now. That’s why he refuses to speak. He won’t, not as long as you’ve given him that hope. He’s holding onto it, waiting for her to come back.”

He was right, but then—

“He spoke today. He said three words,” I said, my voice low as my gaze flickered to my watch, my fingers resuming their rhythmic tapping against the desk.

“Wait, what?” Daniel shot up from his seat, sending it tumbling behind him. But before he could press for details, the door slammed open, and Sebastian strode in, clutching a folder tightly in his hands, his expression nervous and his eyes darting toward me.

“Jesus Christ! That scared the hell out of me!” Daniel yelled, clutching his chest while glaring at Sebastian.

“B-boss, you have to see this. It’s—it’s about the woman’s identity,” Sebastian stammered, his face flushed, his breathing uneven as he adjusted his glasses high on the bridge of his nose.

Felix’s attention briefly turned toward the commotion. He stared at Sebastian like the man was a complete idiot before quietly shifting his gaze back out the window, uninterested.

“Speak,” I hissed, irritation lacing my tone. I hated this kind of behavior from my men—stammering and hesitating like children. I demanded clarity and precision, no matter how shocking the news.

“Boss, I... You need to see this,” Sebastian muttered, finally stepping forward to place the file in my hands. My fingers tightened around it as I flipped it open, scanning the contents.

And then I saw it.

The picture of a woman stared back at me—a striking beauty with dark hair cascading past her shoulders and a radiant smile that could disarm anyone. But it wasn’t her face that made my grip tighten on the file.

It was the name listed under “Father.”

Nico Vance.

Her father was Nico Vance—the man who murdered my Emily, left my son mute and orchestrated today’s accident.