My chest tightened and my throat closed. Painful images flashed through my mind before I could stop them:
My father’s hand connecting with my cheek.
"You are not my son."
Nick’s smirk. "Good riddance."
My mother’s voice: "Stop being childish."
The disownnt. The fight. The birthday dinner that destroyed everything.
I must have made a face. So kind of expression I couldn’t control. Because Alexander’s deanor shifted imdiately.
His smile softened. His eyes filled with concern.
"Hey," he said gently, leaning forward slightly. "You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry, I didn’t an to pry. I just..." He paused, searching my face. "I just wanted to get to know you better. That’s all."
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat.
"No, it’s, " My voice ca out rough. I cleared my throat. "It’s fine. I’m just... not really close with my family."
The words felt like admitting defeat. Like exposing a wound I’d been trying to hide.
Alexander’s eyebrows rose slightly. Genuine surprise crossing his features. Like he hadn’t expected that answer.
"Really?" He studied my face for a mont, then his expression softened into sothing almost sad. Sothing understanding. "I wouldn’t have guessed that. You don’t seem like it."
I let out a bitter laugh. "I’m good at pretending."
His smile returned, but different now.
Warr and more real.
"We have that in common, then."
I looked at him, surprised. "What?"
"Not being close with family." He took a sip of his drink, gaze distant for a mont. "My father and I... we have an understanding. He expects to be a certain person. The perfect son. The perfect CEO. The face of the Hendrix legacy." His jaw tightened slightly. "I try to et those expectations. But it’s... exhausting."
Sothing in my chest twisted.
I know exactly what you an.
"I thought..." I hesitated. "I thought you two were close. The articles, the interviews, "
"The articles are PR," Alexander said simply, eting my eyes again. "My father’s very good at crafting narratives. And I’m very good at playing my part." He paused. "But the truth is, I’m his only son. The pressure to live up to his legacy, to never disappoint him, to always be perfect, "
He stopped himself, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
"Sorry. I don’t usually unload on people I just t."
"No, it’s... " I swallowed. "I get it. I really do."
And I did.
God, I did.
The weight of expectations. The constant feeling of never being enough. The exhaustion of trying to prove yourself to people who would never see you the way you wanted to be seen.
Alexander’s expression softened even more.
"Family’s complicated," he said quietly.
His hand moved across the table, resting lightly on my forearm.
Warm.
Reassuring.
"But for what it’s worth, you seem like you’re doing just fine on your own."
His thumb brushed against my skin. Just once. So brief it could’ve been an accident. But it sent a jolt straight through .
I pulled my arm back instinctively, face heating.
Alexander’s hand fell away imdiately, but his smile stayed.
"Sorry. I didn’t an to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn’t," I said too quickly. "I just, I’m not used to, "
"People being nice to you?"
I opened my mouth to deny it. Closed it. Because he was right.
Alexander’s eyes held mine for a mont longer, sothing unreadable flickering in them.
Then he leaned back slightly, that easy smile returning.
"That suit fits you like it was made for more than just boardrooms, you know," he said, tone light but laced with sothing warr. "You should own it more."
My face burned. "I... thank you?"
"Just an observation." He tilted his head slightly. "It’s a sha soone like you ended up working for Cassian Wolfe."
The shift in tone was subtle but unmistakable.
I stiffened. "What do you an?"
"I an..." Alexander’s voice dropped slightly, taking on a more serious edge. "I’ve heard stories. About how he treats people. Employees. Business partners. Anyone who gets in his way."
"He’s just..." I fumbled for words, feeling defensive for reasons I didn’t fully understand. "He’s focused. On efficiency. On getting results. That’s how you succeed at this level, right?"
Alexander watched carefully. Too carefully. Like he was asuring my response.
"Is it?" he asked softly. "Or is that just what you tell yourself to make it easier?"
I opened my mouth to argue.
Closed it.
Fuck.
Alexander leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping even lower.
"Noah. Cassian Wolfe is a dangerous man."
The words hung in the air between us.
Heavy.
Final.
My stomach sank.
"Dangerous?" I repeated, trying to sound skeptical. " That’s a bit of a stretch though..." I continued. "He’s a businessman. He’s intense, sure, but..."
"More dangerous than you think," Alexander interrupted gently. Firmly.
Sothing cold settled in my chest.
"What... what do you an?"
Alexander hesitated.
Just for a second.
Like he was debating how much to say.
Then he leaned forward even more, closing the distance between us until I could sll his cologne, clean, expensive, nothing like Cassian’s smoke and leather.
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"Cassian Wolfe went to prison, Noah."
I blinked.
Tried to look surprised.
Failed.
"I, I know," I said quietly. "Everyone knows. The rumors have been flying around the company since he took over. But no one knows the details. It’s all sealed or sothing."
Alexander’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
Not warm anymore.
Sharp.
"Exactly," he murmured. "No one knows the details. The records are sealed. His father made sure of that. Paid the right people. Buried the right stories."
He paused, eyes locked on mine.
"But does anyone know the reason why?"
The question hung in the air.
Weighted.
Dangerous.
My pulse spiked.
"I, what?"
"Why he went to prison, Noah." Alexander’s voice was soft. Almost gentle. But there was sothing underneath it. Sothing cold. "Do you know what he did?"
I stared at him, heart hamring.
No.
I don’t.
And suddenly I’m terrified to find out.
"What..." My voice ca out hoarse. "What did he do?"
Alexander held my gaze for a long, agonizing mont.
His smile widened just slightly.
And then...
A voice.
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