ANNA
Anna's POV.
.
Hours passed away like spilled ink. The cell was damp, the stone bench biting on my skin, and the silence lasted enough to crush me. I’d lost count of how many times I whispered Chamberlain's name like a prayer, how many times I begged the universe to make Alex see the truth.
My body was frozen, my throat clogged from crying, when the scrape of metal echoed down the walkway as though some people were coming.
My head jerked up, hope and dread tangling in my chest.
The door swung open, flooding the hall with a sliver of golden light. Three men stepped in, all in black, the same guards from before.
“Get up,” one ordered, his tone clipped, offering no explanation.
Fear jolted through me. My legs wobbled as I stood. “Why? Where are you taking me?”
“Mr. Alex asked for you,” the tallest one said, his face impassive.
My heart stuttered. Relief surged, but it was tangled with confusion still. If Alex had summoned me, it could mean forgiveness… or judgment.
They didn’t give me time to think. Two men flanked me, their grips firm on my arms as if expecting me to collapse or bolt. My shoes scraped against the cold stone floor as they led me back up the narrow staircase, the air growing warmer and brighter with every step.
When the heavy door opened, the sudden wash of light blinded me. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the faint scent of polished wood and roses filling the corridor. The contrast between the prison below and this gleaming mansion felt cruel.
They guided me down the hall, each step echoing like a countdown to my fate. My pulse hammered in my ears.
We reached Alex’s study. The double doors loomed, tall and carved with intricate designs, but right now, they might as well have been gates to an execution ground.
One guard pushed the door opened. I swallowed and halted in my track.
Inside, Alex stood near his desk, his tall frame stiff, shoulders tense as if the weight of the entire mansion rested on them. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but the sharpness in his jaw told me he was far from calm.
And Lori was there.
She lounged against his desk with the ease of someone who belonged, silk robe replaced with a fitted black dress that hugged her like a second skin. Her tone was smooth, persuasive, her eyes glittering as she spoke.
“…I’m only saying this because I care,” Lori murmured, her voice soft enough to crawl under your skin. “You can’t risk your son’s safety again. She’s proven she’s careless. Reckless. This nanny isn’t fit to stay. She’s not one of us. She’ll only cause more damage.”
Her words slid through the room like poisoned honey.
My stomach twisted. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
Lori tilted her head, her smile sharp. “Better to terminate the contract now. Before she ruins more than just your son’s health.”
Terminate.
The word stabbed through me like a blade.
Alex said nothing. He just stood there, silent, his eyes shadowed, his expression unreadable. The silence was worse than any outburst.
Then her eyes flicked toward the doorway. Toward me.
Her smile froze, just for a second, before she pasted on something sweeter. “Excuse me,” she purred, brushing past me with a waft of expensive perfume.
As she passed, her shoulder brushed mine. The contact was deliberate, taunting. She leaned just close enough to whisper, “Told you. You don’t belong.”
My breath caught, but I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Because Alex’s gaze was on me now.
The guards stepped back, leaving me alone in the cavernous room. I felt the weight of the silence pressing down, suffocating. My legs threatened to give out, but I forced them forward until I stood a few steps inside.
I couldn’t speak. My throat burned with all the words I wanted to say—my innocence, Lori’s lies, my devotion to Chamberlain—but fear held me frozen.
Alex’s eyes burned into me, dark and unreadable. Then, at last, his voice cut through the silence.
“You’re lucky,” he said, each word slow, deliberate, heavy enough to crush me. “My son is awake.”
“You’re lucky,” Alex said, his voice slicing through the thick air, “my son is awake.”
A tremor ran through me, but it wasn’t relief. Not fully. His words carried no warmth, no mercy—only warning.
And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
“Good,” I whispered, though my voice shook. I forced my spine straight, even as my knees quivered. “That’s… that’s all I needed to hear. Since he’s awake, I can leave now. I’m not interested in being his nanny anymore.”
The words burned my throat, bitter and raw, but I made myself say them. Better to walk away on my own terms than be dragged out like a criminal again.
But I had barely taken a step before his hand shot out.
His fingers closed around my wrist, firm, unyielding. He yanked me back with a force that stole my breath. I stumbled, colliding into the heat of his chest. Suddenly, we were so close our noses nearly brushed, his scent of cedar and smoke flooding my senses.
My heart thundered.
“Not so fast,” Alex growled, his voice low, dangerous. His grip tightened, his eyes burning into mine with a fury that pinned me in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”
My breath caught. “Let me go.”
He leaned closer, his words a razor against my skin. “You think you can just walk away after this? After nearly killing my son?” His voice cracked like a whip. “No. You’re going to stay right here and answer for your actions.”
The accusation sliced through me, even though I knew I was innocent. My throat closed around the scream I wanted to hurl at him.
“I didn’t—” I tried, my voice breaking.
But his hand held me fast, pulling me closer still. His breath brushed against my lips, his proximity almost suffocating. Every muscle in his body radiated anger, tension, something dark and dangerous that made my pulse race.
“You will be accountable,” he said, each word slow, deliberate, as if sealing my fate. “Do you understand me?”
I shook my head, desperate tears blurring my vision. “I don’t belong here, Alex. I never wanted to hurt Chamberlain. I never—”
“Enough!” he cut me off, his voice thunderous now, reverberating through the study. His grip was iron, but there was something else in his eyes—something I couldn’t name. Not just fury. Not just blame. Something that looked too much like… conflict.
My lips parted, but before I could speak, the sharp sound of footsteps echoed from behind.
Alex’s hold faltered, then slipped away altogether.
We both turned.
Jeremy, his ever-composed assistant, stood in the doorway, his expression tight, his voice urgent. “Sir,” he said quickly, his gaze flicking briefly to me before locking on Alex. “There’s something you need to see. It’s… urgent.”
The room shifted. The storm in Alex’s eyes dimmed, redirected. His jaw flexed as he stepped back, hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Not now,” he snapped.
Jeremy didn’t flinch. He stepped further in, lowering his tone. “Sir, it can’t wait.”
The air thickened, tension twisting like a wire ready to snap. My wrist still tingled where his hand had gripped me. My breath came shallow, uneven.
Alex’s eyes flicked back to mine, dark and unreadable. He said nothing, but the message in his gaze was clear.
Jeremy’s words hung heavy in the air, but Alex didn’t move. Not right away.
Instead, his gaze snapped back to me, sharp as a blade. The fire hadn’t dimmed—it had simply shifted, simmering lower, darker.
Before I could step back, he closed the distance between us again. My breath hitched as his hand shot out, gripping my arm, not as brutally as before, but with a purpose that made my pulse stutter.
He leaned down, his mouth close enough that his breath grazed the shell of my ear. My body went rigid, every nerve screaming with confusion and fury.
“I’ve already paid,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, meant for me alone. “A very generous sum. Check your account.”
My eyes widened. His words slid into me like ice water. Paid?
As if I were… bought.
As if for everything; my pain, my dignity, my devotion to his son could be measured in dollars and brushed aside.
A hot, bitter wave of humiliation surged through me.
I jerked my hand free from his grip, my voice trembling but sharp as broken glass. “You think money makes this better? That it erases what you did? What you’ve accused me of?”
His lips curved, not into a smile, but a mocking half-chuckle that tightened my chest. He didn’t answer, didn’t defend himself. He only looked at me as though my anger amused him, as though I was a puzzle he enjoyed watching fall apart.