All Chapters of By Chance, By Fate: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

41LiamAs soon as the ballroom doors closed behind us, the noise of the gala dulled to a faint hum, leaving only the sound of our footsteps echoing down the marble hallway. The tension between Alex and me was palpable, a tangible thread stretched taut between us, threatening to snap at any moment. He stopped abruptly in front of a small room—a sitting room, maybe, or one of those countless, perfectly decorated spaces that seemed to exist solely for moments like this in places like the White House. Alex opened the door without a word and stepped inside. I hesitated for a second before following him. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lamp casting long shadows against the cream-colored walls. A plush sofa sat near the center, flanked by two armchairs, the kind of furniture that screamed money and power. Alex turned to face me, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. “Alright, Liam,” he said, his voice sharp. “What do you want to say?” I closed the door behind me and

43Liam“But why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let this go on for so long? Why did we waste all this time hating each other?”“I don’t know,” I admitted, his voice quiet now, almost resigned. “Maybe because it was easier to hate you than to admit what I felt. Maybe because I was too scared of what it meant, too scared of how it would change everything. But I can’t do it anymore, Alex. I can’t pretend like this isn’t happening. And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you.”It was easier to hate him. At least, that’s what I told myself over and over for years. Hating Alex kept things simple. It gave me a reason to avoid the truth, to bury what I felt under layers of bitterness and anger. If I could convince him that I despised him, maybe I’d believe it too. But the truth was messier than I wanted to admit. I had been in love with Alex from the moment I met him. The sharp wit, the confidence he exuded, the way he could cut through my armor with a single word—it all drove m

45AlexThe sharp sting of Liam’s blood on my hands burned hotter than the chaos around me. I sat frozen, my knees pressed against the cold, marble floor as his stretcher disappeared through the double doors. The weight of his sacrifice bore down on me, my breath hitching as I stared at the crimson stains on my trembling hands. “Alex!” My father’s voice cut through the fog of my thoughts. I looked up to see him rushing toward me, his tie askew and his face lined with worry. Elena followed closely, her elegant gown streaked with ash and dirt, her hands trembling as she knelt beside me. “Are you hurt?” my father demanded, gripping my shoulders as his sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe. “No,” I croaked, shaking my head. My voice cracked under the weight of my words. “Liam... he took the shot. It should’ve been me.” Elena dropped to her knees beside me, wrapping her arms around me without hesitation. Her slender frame trembled as she pulled me close, her cheek pressing again

47 Alex The sharp scent of smoke lingered in the air as the sirens outside grew louder, piercing the heavy silence that had settled over the shattered ballroom. My father stood tall, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight with fury, surveying the chaos like a general on the battlefield. For a moment, no one dared to speak. “Clean this up,” he barked at the nearest Secret Service agent, his voice cold and commanding. “Now. I want this room secured, the guests accounted for, and every last one of those bastards hunted down before the night is over.” “Yes, Mr. President,” the agent responded immediately, snapping into action. Elena and I stood silently as staff and security personnel swarmed the room, righting overturned tables and sweeping away the broken glass. I could still feel the blood drying on my hands, sticky and warm, a horrifying reminder of Liam lying pale and wounded on the floor. “Alex,” my father said sharply, turning to me with a look that made my chest tighte

49Alex I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone. The screen dimmed as I hesitated, my thumb hovering over Liam’s name in my contacts. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the heating system, but the silence felt deafening. My mind kept replaying the moment he collapsed in my arms, blood soaking through his jacket, his face pale as death. “Damn it,” I muttered, pressing the call button before I could second-guess myself again.The line rang once, twice, three times, each beep tightening the knot in my stomach. And then it went to voicemail. Again. “Liam, it’s me. Please, just—just let me know you’re okay. I don’t care if it’s a text, just something. Please.” I ended the call, my fingers trembling as I set the phone down on the nightstand. I’d already left him three messages in the past day. No response. Not even a sign that someone had checked his phone. Was he alive? Was he safe? The questions clawed at my mind, growing louder with each passing second. My fath