Chapter 5

I did not sleep after receiving the message.

I kept staring at those five words, wondering how a stranger could possibly know that I had finally decided to leave Damian. I had told no one except Clara, and even she did not know that I planned to leave the house the following morning.

I read the message again.

Someone who has been waiting six years.

There was something about those words that made my stomach tighten. Six years was not a random number. It was the exact length of my marriage—or what I had believed was my marriage.

I was about to call the number when another message appeared.

You still have the sketchbook.

My breath caught.

I looked at the old leather-bound book sitting on top of my suitcase.

No one knew I had packed it.

I immediately typed a reply.

Who are you?

This time, the response was only a name.

Alexander.

I stared at the screen.

Alexander Cross.

Damian's older brother.

The man who had disappeared from the Cross family years ago and whom I had not seen since before my wedding.

For a moment, I was transported back six years.

I remembered standing in a hotel lounge with Alexander across from me. Damian had been in another meeting that evening, and Alexander had asked about the sketches I carried everywhere.

He had looked through them carefully, unlike most people who simply complimented the drawings and moved on.

"You should open your own studio," he had told me.

I had laughed.

"I don't have the money."

"You don't need their money."

He had tapped one of my sketches with his finger.

"You need to stop thinking of yourself as someone's wife and start thinking of yourself as someone who has something of her own."

At the time, I had been offended.

I loved Damian, and Alexander was his brother. Whatever his intentions were, I thought his attention crossed a line.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do with my life," I had said.

Alexander hadn't argued.

He had simply looked at me for a long moment before saying, "One day, you'll wish you had listened."

I married Damian three months later.

I never saw Alexander again.

Until now.

The following morning, I found him waiting outside the house.

He stood beside a black sedan, dressed in a dark suit without the excessive entourage that usually surrounded members of the Cross family. He looked older than I remembered, but not softer. If anything, there was something more restrained about him now, as though six years away from his family had taught him how little he needed from anyone.

When he saw me carrying my suitcase, his eyes moved briefly toward it.

He didn't ask where I was going.

He simply said, "I'm sorry about Gabriel."

My throat tightened.

"Thank you."

"I wanted to come sooner."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't have wanted me here."

The honesty of the answer caught me off guard.

Alexander had always been different from Damian in that way. He never tried to make himself appear kinder than he was. He simply said what he meant and allowed people to decide what to do with it.

"I didn't call you," I said.

"I know."

"You knew about Gabriel?"

"I knew enough."

His expression changed slightly.

"I know what happened at the hospital."

I stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

Alexander looked toward the house before returning his attention to me.

"Your brother was supposed to receive surgery from Dr. Marcus Hale. Three days before Gabriel was admitted, someone from Damian's office contacted Cross Medical and requested that the doctor be placed on another case."

"Vivian's father."

Alexander nodded.

"The request was made directly through Damian's executive office."

I felt anger rise again, but beneath it was something colder.

"You have proof?"

"I do."

He reached into his coat and handed me a thin folder.

Inside were copies of internal communications, authorization records, and a schedule showing the reassignment of the specialist. At the bottom of one document was an approval code linked to Damian's office.

I stared at it.

"This could have been enough to save Gabriel."

Alexander's voice was quiet.

"Yes."

I closed the folder.

For a moment, I could barely breathe.

Then I handed it back.

"I don't want it."

His brows drew together.

"What?"

"I don't want anything from you."

"Elena—"

"I've spent six years being connected to the Cross family. I don't want another Cross deciding what happens to me."

Alexander studied me without interrupting.

"I understand."

"I don't need protection."

"You do."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

His answer stopped me.

Most people would have argued. Damian certainly would have. He would have told me that I was emotional, that I didn't understand the situation, or that I was incapable of making decisions while grieving.

Alexander simply nodded.

"Then let me make this clear. I'm not offering you charity."

I looked at him.

"This is a business arrangement."

"With me?"

"With you."

He took the folder back and tucked it beneath his arm.

"You've been stripped of your position, your reputation, and almost every asset you thought belonged to you. Damian has lawyers, executives, family connections, and enough money to bury almost any problem before it reaches the surface."

"And you don't?"

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"I have more than he thinks."

That was the first time I understood why Damian had always spoken about his brother with such bitterness.

Alexander wasn't merely another billionaire.

He had built something outside the Cross family, something Damian could not control.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"Nothing yet."

The answer made me suspicious.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because six years ago, I told you that you were wasting your talent."

I looked away.

"You were wrong about a lot of things."

"No. I was wrong about one thing."

"What?"

"I thought you would leave sooner."

My eyes returned to his.

Alexander's expression softened.

"I've watched what Damian did to you. I watched him take your work, your ideas, and eventually your confidence, while convincing you that you should be grateful simply for having a place beside him."

I swallowed hard.

"You don't know everything."

"I know enough."

He paused before continuing.

"And I know that the marriage certificate was deliberately falsified."

My heart stopped.

"You know about that?"

"I've known for years."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were in love with him."

There was no accusation in his voice.

"Anything I said would have sounded like jealousy. You wouldn't have believed me."

I couldn't argue with that.

Six years ago, I would have defended Damian against anyone, including Alexander.

Now I wished I had asked more questions.

Alexander stepped closer.

"I can give you enough power to destroy Damian."

I stared at him.

The words should have frightened me.

Instead, for the first time since Gabriel's death, I felt something I hadn't allowed myself to feel.

Possibility.

"What do you want in return?"

Alexander held my gaze.

There was no hesitation in his answer.

"Marry me."

I stared at him, convinced I had misunderstood.

"You're asking me to marry you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

His expression remained calm, but something in his eyes had changed.

"Because a marriage to me will put you beyond Damian's reach."

I shook my head.

"That's not the whole reason."

"No."

Alexander took another step toward me.

"It isn't."

My heart began to pound.

Six years ago, I had rejected the man standing in front of me because I believed loving Damian was the only choice I had.

Now Damian had never been my husband at all.

And Alexander, the man I had once refused to choose, was offering me the one thing I needed most.

Power.

But I knew better than to accept anything from a Cross without asking what it would cost me.

So I looked directly into Alexander's eyes and asked the only question that mattered.

"Why me?"

For the first time, his composure cracked.

"Because I never stopped choosing you, Elena."