Chapter 24

Alexander's POV

I stared at the letter for what felt like hours, though I knew it had only been minutes. The paper was stiff in my hands, the bold text glaring back at me: DNA test results: Owen is biologically related to Sophia.

It didn’t make sense. Yet it did. This was the truth I’d always known. Me, Sophia, Owen. A family.

Maybe I’d just been hoping for a different ending.

I ran my hand through my hair, the motion more forceful than I meant. The paper crinkled in my grip.

What kind of father, partner, man did that make me?

I slammed the letter down on my desk. The sharp sound echoed in the silence. I couldn’t sit still. My thoughts were a broken record, chaotic and endless.

I stood, pacing across the room, my hands shaking at my sides. A dull ache settled deep in my chest, replacing my rage.

I ran my fingers over my face, trying to process it all. Owen. My son. I could still hear his laughter, see his eyes light up when he looked at me. He was my son. Mine.

But Sophia—why did she never feel like... a wife? A mother?

My chest tightened, and I stumbled to the minibar. My legs were unsteady, each step heavier than the last.

I needed something to drown out the ache. The whiskey bottle gleamed under the dim light, as familiar as the emptiness gnawing at me. I grabbed it, unscrewing the cap, pouring myself a generous amount. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, mocking me.

I drank deeply, feeling the burn slide down my throat, the warmth spreading through my chest. But it didn’t help. It never did. The ache only deepened. The silence pressed in, and all I could think about was Lauren.

She was all I ever thought about these days.

Or, Ava. I scoffed, thinking about the name we had considered for our daughter that had never been.

She had to be mocking me with that one. My eyes squeezed shut, my world swirling behind them.

Laruen had made me see things differently. She had made me question everything I’d built my life around.

I couldn’t stop remembering the way she looked at me, the softness in her eyes when she let me in, when I held her. She had made me feel alive again, her presence filling the empty spaces in my soul.

But now... with this letter, was she really gone? Could I have lost her for good? Was she really just Ava? Even if she wasn’t, was she still my Lauren? Did it even matter?

The thought of losing her again, my theory about Abigail, made my heart clench painfully. I couldn’t bear it. Not now. Not after everything we’d been through.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching the liquid move like my thoughts.

What did I want? What could I even want anymore?

My family needed me. Sophia, Owen—they depended on me. But Lauren... she was different. She made me question my loyalties, made me wonder if I was missing something.

I took another drink, the burn soothing the chaos in my head, if only for a moment. The whiskey settled in my stomach, but the tightness in my chest didn’t fade.

My thoughts turned back to her. To the night we first met. The day she died. The day I found out she was alive—a miracle.

But I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t just walk away from my family, from the life I’d built with Sophia and Owen. They needed me. And yet... I needed her.

I finished the drink in one swallow, the liquid harsh against my throat.

I reached for the bottle again, my hands trembling as I slung it back to my lips. Again. Again. Again.

Lauren's POV

The house was too quiet.

I’d grown used to the noise of Daphne and Abigail, their chatter, their music, their constant movement through the house. But tonight, it was just me. Alone. Those two had gone out for dinner during my shift, leaving the silence pressing in on me, heavy and thick, like I couldn’t breathe.

I hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts that had been swirling in my head these past days.

It had been weeks since everything changed. Since I reluctantly let Alexander back in, our deal, my patients. Even after everything that happened, he still, without fail, left my mind scrambled.

Heating up the hot cocoa on the stove, I watched the water bubble as I stirred the sweet smelling drink. I tried to enjoy a rare moment alone, pulling my robe tighter around my hips folding my arms.

My head shook, drowning in throught.

Jeez. Had I forgotten what it was like to just relax?

The thing is, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle him. This deal. But every time I saw him, every time I heard his voice, I felt that pull again. The one I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried. I hated it.

His strong arms, holding me in the elevator, in the operating room—those moments mixed with the lies, the hurt. They clung to me like a second skin, something I couldn’t shed, no matter how many times I tried.

I hadn’t expected things to be easy. I knew they wouldn’t be. But this? This was different. I didn’t what he was up to, thinking. And I hated that I didn’t know. I hated that everything between us felt like a mystery I couldn’t solve.

I sat on the couch, absently flipping through a magazine, but the words didn’t register as I sipped at my mug.

I closed the magazine with a snap, tossing it aside, letting my feet up.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be alone tonight. But the whole world felt too big, too loud. So, I stayed home, letting the stillness settle around me.

The soft sound of my phone buzzing against the coffee table broke through my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. It was a message from Daphne, something about being held up in traffic.

I typed back a quick response, feeling a smile creep to my cheeks. Those two were always getting into trouble.

I leaned back against the couch, tossing my phone aside, staring at the ceiling. The house was dark now, the soft glow of the lamp in the corner the only light.

My mind kept going back to Alexander. More annoyingly, to the night we met. How he’d looked at me, how his eyes had held something more than the did now. Love. Like I was actually something precious to him.

I had believed him. For a while.

But now, I wasn’t sure of anything.

Every time I saw him, every time I felt his touch or heard his voice, it was like everything hit all over again. Everything all at once. The love, memories, betrayal, harmony, discord and peace.

My hand wiped down my face, exhasuted. All I wanted was to be free of this thought prison.

DING-DONG

The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat. Huh. It was late—too late for a visitor, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I hesitated, my pulse quickening, then slowly rose to my feet. My mind spun as I walked toward the door… I took a breath, my hand trembling slightly as I reached for the doorknob.

When I opened it, everything seemed to freeze.

Standing before me, his dark hair messy, falling just enough to frame his sharp, handsome face. His jaw was tense, clenched, and even in the dim light, I could see the rugged strength in his features.

His posture was slumped, his arms tall over me to the frame above, bracing himself, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

His eyes, usually so intense, were bloodshot and weary, carrying a storm of emotions that I couldn’t quite decipher. His face was pale, drawn with exhaustion, but there was something else—something deeper, darker—that made my chest tighten.

He leaned against the doorframe, his strong, broad frame supported only by the wood. The black coat he wore hung off his shoulders, the fabric fitting him perfectly. He looked like a man on the edge, torn between something he couldn’t control and something he desperately wanted.

The familiar scent of whiskey hit me before I even saw the faint wobble in his stance, the unsteady way he shifted his weight.

Alexander was drunk. And he was here.