The air inside the mansion was heavy—thick with unspoken words, buried secrets, and something darker lurking beneath.
Isabella stood frozen in place as Alexander’s warning echoed in her mind.
"Do not ask questions about things you don’t want answers to."
But how could she ignore it?
She had just witnessed a man begging for his life at her husband’s doorstep.
And Alexander? He hadn’t even flinched.
What had David done to earn that kind of punishment? And what did Alexander mean when he said, “You should have thought of your family before crossing me”?
Isabella clenched her fists, her pulse still erratic.
She wasn’t stupid.
She had always known Alexander wasn’t just a businessman.
He owned people.
But now, for the first time, she realized—he also destroyed them.
---
Later That Night
Sleep refused to come.
The mansion was eerily quiet, and even though she lay wrapped in silk sheets, Isabella felt exposed.
She tossed, turned, but his presence haunted her thoughts.
Was he asleep?
Did a man like him even need sleep?
A ridiculous thought, but still, she couldn’t shake the image of him standing in that doorway, cold and absolute.
A decision formed in her mind.
She needed to know more.
Silently, she slid out of bed, careful not to make a sound as she padded barefoot across the cold floor.
The mansion was vast, its hallways endless. She knew she shouldn't be wandering so late, but curiosity burned through her veins.
She reached his office. The massive wooden doors loomed before her like a forbidden secret.
Should she?
No.
Yes.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pushed the door open.
The room was dimly lit, the scent of whiskey lingering in the air. Papers, books, and files were neatly arranged on the desk—too neat for a man with nothing to hide.
Her gaze flickered to a locked drawer.
Her heartbeat spiked.
That drawer held something important.
She glanced toward the door, listening for any sounds. Silence.
Her fingers brushed the handle.
Locked.
Damn it.
She chewed her lip, debating what to do next. She should leave. She should—
A low voice cut through the darkness.
"Looking for something?"
Her breath hitched.
A chill rushed down her spine as she slowly turned.
Alexander stood in the doorway, his tall frame draped in shadows.
His eyes were unreadable, but the air between them shifted.
Dangerous. Intoxicating. Unforgiving.
Her pulse pounded against her ribs.
"I—I couldn’t sleep," she managed, trying to sound casual.
Alexander took a slow step forward.
"And you thought rummaging through my office would help with that?"
Her throat dried. What could she say?
She didn’t answer.
He exhaled, the sound almost amused.
"You’re a terrible liar, Isabella."
He reached past her, resting one hand against the desk. Trapping her.
Heat radiated from him, his proximity suffocating.
"If you wanted to know about me, wife…" His voice dropped to something darker. "You could’ve just asked."
Isabella swallowed hard. "Would you have told me the truth?"
Alexander tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle.
"Depends on what truth you’re looking for."
His words held layers.
She could feel it.
There was more to him than just power. More than the murder accusations, the whispers of crime, the ruthless business deals.
Something deeply hidden.
And for the first time…
She realized—he wanted her to figure it out.
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