Chapter 2

The next afternoon, I stood in front of Stone Technologies Tower.

In the shiny glass doors, I saw my reflection—pale but determined. This time would be different. This time I wouldn't run away without really understanding who Alexander Stone was.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like forever. My heart was pounding as I watched the numbers go up. Thirty... forty... fifty...

When the doors opened, Alexander's assistant Davis walked over—a skinny guy in his thirties who seemed really nervous.

"Miss Winston, you're early." He checked his watch, looking flustered. "Mr. Stone is finishing up a board meeting. He should be done soon—"

"I can wait," I said, walking into the waiting area. I could see the glass conference room through the big windows.

There he was.

Alexander sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by guys in expensive suits. Even from far away, he commanded the whole room. His dark hair was perfect, his shoulders straight, his face cold and sharp—he looked exactly like the ruthless CEO the media said he was.

But then I noticed something weird.

His left hand was on the table, his fingers moving slightly. Nothing obvious—just tapping on the surface. Tap, tap, tap. His thumb making tiny circles on his index finger.

A nervous habit.

I'd seen stuff like this in the hospital, from patients with bad anxiety. It hit me—this powerful man who ran billion-dollar deals was nervous.

The meeting ended, and I watched board members file out, each shaking Alexander's hand respectfully. He took their respect with the same cold expression, but now I could see the tension in his shoulders, how his jaw tightened after each handshake.

Davis appeared next to me. "Mr. Stone can see you now."

Walking to his office felt like entering a lion's cage. Alexander's private space was all clean and minimal, everything perfectly organized, almost like a hospital.

He stood with his back to me. Seeing him made me hold my breath—not because he was attractive, but because he looked so completely alone. Like a king with no kingdom.

"You wanted to talk," he said, his voice as cold as I remembered, but now I listened more carefully.

"Yes." I moved closer, studying his profile. Dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked pale, almost sick. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping?"

He turned toward me, and for just a second, his careful mask slipped. I saw something raw and hurt flash across his face before the walls went back up.

"I'm fine." The words came too fast, too defensive.

But his eyes told a different story. They were empty—not cold, but hollow. Like someone who had forgotten how to feel anything. I'd seen that look before, in the mirror after bad days at the hospital.

Depression. The thought made me shiver.

"Alexander..." I took another step forward. "I want to know you better. We're getting married in a week, but I feel like I don't know the real you at all."

My words hit him hard. His whole body went stiff like I'd slapped him. His controlled breathing got faster, and his hands clenched into fists.

"You don't need to know me," he said, each word sharp and precise. "This marriage is business. Nothing more."

"Is it?" I walked to the couch and sat down. "Then why did you spend two nights at the hospital with me?"

He didn't answer, but I saw his jaw twitch. I patted the cushion next to me.

For a long moment, he just stood there, looking like he wanted to run out of his own office. Finally, he sat down—but as far away from me as possible.

The space between us felt huge.

"Alexander, we're about to get married. Don't you think we should at least try to connect?" I moved closer, noticing how he tensed up.

"You don't understand what you're getting into," he said, his voice cracking a little, showing more vulnerability than I'd ever heard from him.

"Then help me understand."

I slowly reached out my hand, making it clear what I was doing. When my fingers touched his, he jerked back like I'd burned him.

I didn't pull away. Instead, I gently took his hand in mine. Even though his hand was big, it felt fragile.

"Tell me what's wrong," I said softly.

He stared at our hands like he couldn't believe it was real. When he finally looked up, there was something in his eyes I'd never seen before—a desperate, aching loneliness that made my chest hurt.

"I've never..." he stopped, swallowing hard. "No one has ever..."

The words just hung there. Whatever he wanted to say, he couldn't finish it.

"Ivy."

My name came out almost as a whisper, so quiet I almost missed it. But the way he said it—like a prayer, like something precious—made my heart skip.

He turned to face me completely, and I watched his mask finally break apart. What was underneath was raw and scary and beautiful all at once.

"Are you afraid of me?"

The question hit me like a slap.

His voice was small, broken, like a kid expecting to get in trouble. His whole body curled inward, shoulders hunched, head down.

This wasn't a confident CEO asking a simple question. This was a man who thought he was a monster, waiting for me to confirm his worst fear.

Silence stretched between us. His whole body was tense, waiting for the rejection he clearly expected.

But why would he ask this? What happened to make him so sure people would fear him? What was he hiding?

Right then, I realized everything I thought I knew about Alexander was wrong. This wasn't a cold, calculating businessman.

The question hung between us, and I knew my answer would change everything.