Chapter 16 The Uncle's Secret
Alexander: POV
I looked down at the woman in my arms, her face pale and fragile against my chest, and my breath caught.
Fuck.
For a second—just one heartbreaking second—she looked exactly like Josephine.
Same delicate bone structure. Same way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Same expression of exhausted vulnerability that made something in my chest crack wide open.
I'd spent years trying to forget that face. Years telling myself I'd done the right thing by walking away. Years pretending I didn't still dream about her every goddamn night.
And here I was, holding someone who looked so much like her it physically hurt.
"Mr. Sterling?" My assistant, David Miller, appeared at my elbow, his eyes widening. "Is she—"
"She's been drugged," I said, my voice harsher than I intended. "Get the car. Now."
David sprinted toward the alley entrance.
I adjusted my grip, cradling her closer. She was burning up, the drug making her temperature spike. Her hands clutched weakly at my jacket, and she mumbled something I couldn't quite catch.
"I knew you'd come..."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
That's what Josephine used to say. Every time I showed up at that shitty apartment, every time I convinced her to leave her bastard husband for a few stolen hours. "I knew you'd come for me, Alex."
But I hadn't come for her in the end, had I? When her husband found out, when my family threatened to cut me off and destroy her reputation completely, I'd walked away. I'd chosen the fucking family name over the woman I loved.
And she'd paid the price. Last I heard, she'd passed away from some kind of illness—still trapped in that marriage until the very end.
I shoved the memories down as David pulled up in my Aston Martin. I slid into the back seat, keeping the woman secure in my lap.
"NewYork-Presbyterian," I ordered. "And find out everything about her."
Elena stirred against me, her face pressing into my neck. Her breath was hot against my skin, and she made a small, distressed sound.
"Shh," I murmured, running my hand down her back. "Easy. You're safe now."
She burrowed deeper into my arms, seeking warmth or comfort. Her fingers tangled in my shirt, holding on like I was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
Josephine used to do that too. When the nightmares got bad, when her husband's abuse left her shaking and broken, she'd curl into me just like this.
"Hurts," Elena whispered, her voice slurred. "Everything hurts..."
"I know." I held her tighter. "Just hang on a little longer."
She nodded against my chest, then went still again. Too still.
"Drive faster," I snapped at David.
---
The ER staff moved quickly when they saw me carrying an unconscious woman. Within minutes, Elena was on a gurney, being wheeled toward examination rooms.
"I'm coming with her," I said when a nurse tried to stop me.
"Sir, only family—"
"I'm her uncle," I lied smoothly. "And I'm not leaving her alone."
The nurse hesitated, then nodded. "This way."
My phone buzzed. David, with information.
I stepped into the hallway to read his message, and the words on the screen made my blood run cold.
Elena Vance. Age 26. Fashion designer at Sterling Conglomerate. Adopted daughter of Margaret Vance, head housekeeper at the Connecticut estate. Status: MARRIED TO JULIAN STERLING (hidden marriage, 3 years).
Son of a bitch.
This was Julian's wife. My nephew's fucking wife, lying drugged and assaulted in an ER because that bastard had hung up on her.
I remembered the phone call she'd made in that alley. The way her voice had broken when she begged for help. "I've been drugged... please..."
And Julian had told her to stop being dramatic.
My hands clenched into fists so tight my knuckles went white.
Another text from David: Victoria Astor returned from Paris today. Julian picked her up at Teterboro. Multiple photos of them together circulating on social media.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian's number.
He answered on the third ring. "Alexander? What—"
"Get to NewYork-Presbyterian. Now." My voice was ice.
"What? I'm busy—"
"Your wife is in the fucking ER." I let each word land like a blow. "She was drugged and assaulted at a business meeting. She called you for help, and you hung up on her."
Silence. Then: "Elena's at the hospital?"
"Room 347. Get here. Now."
I hung up before he could respond.
---
A doctor approached me in the waiting area—young, competent-looking, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Sterling? I'm Dr. Sarah Jones. I've been examining your... niece?"
I nodded. "How is she?"
"She's stable. We've administered activated charcoal to help absorb the drug—likely Rohypnol given the symptoms. We're running a full toxicology panel."
My jaw clenched. "That bastard."
"We've also collected evidence for a potential assault case, though..." Dr.Jones paused. "There's something else you should know."
"She's pregnant," Dr.Jones said quietly. "About seven weeks along. The baby appears unharmed, but we need to monitor her closely."
I stood there, frozen.
Pregnant.
Elena was carrying Julian's child.
And Julian didn't even fucking know.
"Does she know?" I managed.
Dr. Jones nodded. "Based on her medical history and the prenatal vitamins in her system, yes."
Alone. She's been doing this completely alone.
"The good news is that we caught this early. The drug dosage wasn't high enough to cause immediate harm to the fetus. She'll need rest and monitoring, but both she and the baby should be fine."
"Can I see her?"
"She's awake now. A bit groggy, but lucid." Dr. Jones smiled. "She's asking for you, actually. Kept saying 'he came back.'"
---
I pushed open the door to Elena's room.
She was sitting up in bed, looking small and lost in a hospital gown, her brown hair tangled around her shoulders. When she saw me, her eyes went wide—first with relief, then confusion.
"You..." Her voice was hoarse. "You're not Julian."
"No." I pulled a chair over and sat down. "I'm Alexander Sterling. Julian's uncle."
She blinked. "Uncle?"
"Yeah." I leaned forward. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck." She touched her forehead gingerly. "But... better. The doctor said you brought me here. That you saved me from Morrison."
"I was in the area. Saw what was happening." I kept my voice gentle. "I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner."
Elena's eyes filled with tears. "I called Julian. He... he didn't come."
Because he was too busy with Victoria.
"I know," I said quietly. "And that's on him, not you."
She wiped at her eyes, then seemed to notice the IV in her arm, the monitors beeping softly. Realization dawned on her face, followed by panic.
"The doctor," she whispered. "She told you, didn't she?"
I nodded. "About the pregnancy? Yeah."
Elena's hand moved instinctively to her stomach, protective and terrified. "You can't tell Julian. Please. You can't—"
"Hey." I reached out, covering her hand with mine. "Breathe. I'm not going to tell him anything."
"But he's your nephew—"
"And you're the woman who saved my father's life." My grip tightened gently. "I know what you did, Elena. How you performed CPR on Arthur when he had that heart attack. How you've put up with Julian's bullshit for three years while he pines after a woman who doesn't deserve him."
Her eyes widened. "How do you—"
"I pay attention." I smiled. "And I know my nephew can be a blind idiot when it comes to matters of the heart."
Elena let out a wet laugh. "That's putting it mildly."
"So here's the deal," I said with a slight smirk. "This pregnancy? That's our little secret. When you're ready to drop the baby bomb on Julian—if you decide he deserves to know—that's totally up to you."
She stared at me like I'd just offered her the moon. "Why would you do that?"