Chapter 25 The Fragile Alibi
The hum of the ventilation system felt like a roar in Sarah’s ears as she stared at Alex. He looked like a ghost of the man who had held her the night before.
"Alex, look at you," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling.
"What did you do? Why are you covered in bloody patches?"
Alex leaned his weight against her sedan, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He looked down at his knuckles, which were torn and raw.
"I did what I had to do, Sarah. I told you I’d deal with him."
"Joseph?" She stepped closer, her hands hovering near his chest but afraid to touch the gore.
"You found him?"
"I followed him," Alex said, his voice a low, raspy crawl.
"He didn't go home. He went to a diner on the outskirts of town. He was waiting for someone. A guy from one of those trashy tabloids. He had the envelope, Sarah. He was going to sell those photos before the forty-eight hours were even up."
Sarah felt the world tilt. The betrayal stung, but the sight of Alex’s violence was worse.
"So you fought him? In public?"
"It wasn't a fight. It was an intervention," Alex countered. A dark, jagged smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
"I caught him in the parking lot before the reporter showed up. I took the envelope. And I made sure Joseph understood that every time he tries to hurt you, it’s going to cost him a piece of himself."
"You’re going to jail," she breathed, the panic finally overflowing. "If he goes to the police—"
"He won't," Alex cut her off, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying certainty.
"He can't explain why he was meeting a journalist with stolen photos. And besides, he’s not going to be talking to anyone for a while. He’s... indisposed."
"What does that mean, Alex? Is he dead?"
"He’s breathing. He’s just hurting," Alex said. He winced as he tried to stand up straight.
"Get the door open, Sarah. We can't stand out here in the open."
Sarah fumbled with her keys, her fingers feeling like lead. She managed to unlock the car and practically shoved him into the passenger seat. She threw her blazer over his chest to hide the blood-stained white cotton of his t-shirt. Her mind was screaming at her to run, to call for help, but the sight of him—broken and bleeding because of her—pulled at a part of her heart she couldn't silence.
She climbed into the driver's seat and sped out of the garage, her eyes darting to every rearview mirror, expecting sirens at any second. Alex leaned his head back against the leather, his eyes closed.
"You should have let him go," she said, her voice cracking as she navigated the midday traffic.
"I could have handled the scandal. I could have found another way."
"No, you couldn't," Alex murmured without opening his eyes.
"You’re too good for this world, Sarah. You think everyone plays by the rules. Joseph doesn't. Gary doesn't. They only understand strength. I’m just giving them what they recognize."
"It’s not strength, Alex. It’s madness."
"It’s love," he whispered.
The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Sarah didn't respond. She couldn't. She drove in a blur of terror, taking the back roads to her house. She felt like a criminal, smuggling a fugitive through the suburbs. When they finally pulled into her driveway, she waited until the street was clear before helping him out of the car.
She led him through the back door and into the kitchen. The house was silent, thank God. Mark was still at his new job. She sat Alex down in a chair and grabbed the first aid kit.
"I need to clean this," she said, her hands shaking as she reached for the antiseptic.
"Later," Alex said, grabbing her wrist. His grip was still strong, despite the damage to his hand.
"Did you get the contract? Did you win?"
Sarah froze. The memory of the boardroom, Gary MacIntyre’s predatory smile, and Henderson’s cold judgment came rushing back.
"I don't know," she said. "The meeting was adjourned for lunch. Gary is on the rival board now, Alex. He’s using Joseph’s rumors to sink me. He’s trying to blackmail me into a 'partnership' I never wanted."
Alex’s eyes flared with a new kind of rage.
"Gary. I should have dealt with him too."
"Stop it! No more 'dealing' with people!" Sarah cried, finally pulling her hand away.
"I need to get back there. I need my briefcase. I left it in the hallway when I ran out. Maybe Stacy has gotten it, but I'll have to get back.”
She patted her sides, searching for the familiar leather handle of her bag. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Her briefcase contained the original Veridian blueprints—the ones with her personal notes, her cost estimates, and the private contact information for her suppliers.
"I left it," she whispered. "I left everything at the office."
She scrambled for her phone and dialed Stacy’s number. It rang three times before Stacy picked up, her voice a frantic, hushed whisper.
"Sarah? Where are you? Henderson is asking where the lead architect went!"
"Stacy, I’m at home. I had an emergency. Listen, I left my briefcase in the hallway by the elevators. Or maybe on the chair in the waiting room. I need you to go get it right now. Everything is in there."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Sarah could hear the muffled sound of voices in the background—men laughing, the clinking of water glasses.
"Sarah," Stacy whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m looking through the glass of the boardroom right now. I can't get in there."
"Why not? The meeting is on break."
"It was," Stacy said, her voice dropping even lower.
"But Gary MacIntyre didn't go to lunch. He stayed behind. Sarah... he’s sitting at the head of the table. He has your briefcase open. He’s going through your private files right now. I think he’s looking for the recording."
Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. She looked at Alex, who was watching her with a dark, bruised intensity.
"He’s looking at my files?" Sarah repeated, her voice barely a breath.
"He’s not just looking," Stacy whispered.
"He’s taking pictures of the documents with his phone. Sarah, if he finds what he's looking for, we don't have until five o'clock. We don't have any time at all."