Chapter 13 Uninvited Thoughts
Alexander's POV
Monday - Week Two
The meeting with Sterling & Associates was scheduled for ten.
I'd been briefed by Victoria—smile, be professional, don't say anything stupid. Sterling was critical to our financing structure, and we needed to maintain the relationship.
What she hadn't mentioned was that Felicia Moreno would be leading the Sterling delegation.
I recognized her immediately when she walked into the conference room—blonde, polished, radiating confidence. She was younger than the other Sterling executives, probably close to my age, and clearly being groomed for leadership.
"Alexander Thorne." She extended her hand with a smile that was a little too warm, a little too calculated. "I've heard so much about you. Welcome back from London."
"Thank you." I shook her hand briefly and released it.
"Your thesis on emerging markets was fascinating. I read it."
"You did?"
"Of course. Sterling keeps track of promising talent." Her smile widened. "We should discuss it sometime. Over coffee, perhaps?"
Before I could respond, Victoria cleared her throat. "Shall we begin?"
The meeting was standard—financial projections, investment terms, risk assessments. Felicia was competent, I'd give her that. She knew her numbers and presented them with practiced ease.
But every time she made a point, she looked at me. Not at Victoria or my father or anyone else at the table.
Me.
It was deliberate. Obvious.
And completely transparent.
I kept my expression neutral, took notes, participated when necessary. But I could feel Victoria watching me, gauging my reaction.
Elena sat along the wall, taking notes on her tablet. She didn't look up once during Felicia's presentation.
But Felicia glanced at her several times.
Brief, assessing looks that felt wrong somehow. Like she was measuring Elena and finding her wanting.
Or like she knew her.
No. That was ridiculous. Why would they know each other?
The meeting ended at eleven-thirty. Handshakes, promises of future collaboration, the usual corporate theater.
As people filed out, Felicia lingered.
"Alexander." She approached with that same calculated smile. "Do you have a moment?"
"I have another meeting—"
"Just a quick question." She stepped closer, lowering her voice like we were sharing a secret. "I'm hosting a charity gala next month. Very exclusive, excellent networking. I'd love for you to attend as my guest."
"I'll have to check my schedule."
"Of course. But I hope you'll make time." She touched my arm lightly. "It would be wonderful to get to know you better. Outside of boardrooms and quarterly reports."
I stepped back slightly, breaking the contact. "I'll let you know."
"Please do." She handed me a business card—unnecessary, since we already had each other's professional contacts. "My personal number is on the back. Call anytime."
She left with a final smile that promised things I had no interest in.
Victoria appeared at my side. "She's interested."
"I noticed."
"Sterling is our largest investor. Felicia's family has significant influence in that company."
"I'm aware."
"It would be beneficial—"
"No."
Victoria's eyebrow raised. "I'm not suggesting—"
"Yes, you are. You want me to wine and dine her, keep Sterling happy through personal connection. I'm not doing it."
"I'm asking you to be friendly. Professional. Maybe attend one event."
"Find someone else."
"Alexander—"
"I said no." I kept my voice level but firm. "I'll work with Sterling professionally. That's all."
Victoria studied me for a long moment. "This is about...."
I didn't let her finish, I know what she mean, Victoria never miss a thing."What? No—"
"Don't lie to me. You've been obsessed since you got back. I told you she's off-limits—"
"And I've respected that. I haven't bothered her all week."
"Only because I threatened you." She crossed her arms. "Felicia Moreno is perfect for you. Intelligent, ambitious, from the right kind of family—"
"I don't care."
"You should. The board is already asking about your personal life. Father expects you to settle down eventually, marry someone appropriate—"
"Someone appropriate?" The words tasted bitter. "Someone who checks boxes on a spreadsheet?"
"Someone who understands our world."
"Felicia doesn't want to know me. She wants to know the Thorne name and the bank account attached to it."
Victoria sighed. "That's how this works. You know that."
"Then maybe I don't want to work this way."
"Too bad. You're a Thorne. You don't get to opt out."
She left before I could respond.
I stood in the empty conference room, jaw clenched, frustrated beyond measure.
Everyone had plans for me. Father wanted me groomed for CEO. Victoria wanted me politically connected. The board wanted me married and producing heirs.
No one asked what I wanted.
Except her. Three years ago.
Elena had looked at me and asked what I wanted, and I hadn't had an answer.
I still didn't.
The week dragged on.
I focused on work—learning projects, meeting with department heads, proving I wasn't just the heir apparent but actually capable.
I avoided Elena as much as possible. Nodded when we passed in hallways. Asked Jenna work questions instead of her.
Victoria was right. I needed to stop.
But I couldn't stop watching.
Every morning, Elena arrived exactly on time, carrying coffee and quiet determination. She worked with focused intensity, never complaining, never slowing down.
At lunch, she either disappeared with a friend or ate quickly at her desk.
At six, she packed up and left, always rushing, always checking her phone like she was late for something important.
And I wondered. Constantly.
Where did she go? What was she rushing toward? Who was she when she wasn't being Victoria's perfect assistant?
Did she ever think about that night?
Did she ever think about me?
Friday Evening
I stayed late, finishing reports that didn't need to be finished today. The office emptied around me. By six-thirty, the fifty-third floor was a ghost town.
I packed up, took the elevator down, stepped out into the cool evening air.
And saw her.
Elena, walking toward the bus stop, bag slung over her shoulder, head down against the wind.
I don't know what possessed me.
My car was parked in the executive garage. I could have gone home. Should have gone home.
Instead, I got in my car and followed her.
Not close. I kept several car lengths back, told myself I was just curious about the neighborhood, completely coincidental.
But I was lying.
I was following her.
She took the bus—I followed the bus. She got off in a neighborhood that was clearly not the city's upscale district. Older buildings, small shops, the kind of area where people worked hard just to survive.
She walked three blocks, stopped at a convenience store.
I pulled over half a block away, watching.
She went inside. Emerged five minutes later with a plastic bag—milk, bread, something for dinner probably.
She checked her phone, replied to a text, kept walking.
And I sat in my car, engine idling, watching her disappear around a corner.
What the hell was I doing?
This was wrong. Creepy. Stalking.
I was following a woman who'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me, invading her privacy, crossing every boundary.
Victoria was right. I was making Elena uncomfortable. I was obsessing over someone who didn't remember me, building fantasies around one night three years ago.
I needed to stop.
She deserved her privacy. Her life. Whatever she was rushing home to every night—it was none of my business.
That was the line.
Watching was already too much—going further would make me someone I didn’t want to be.
I put the car in gear and turned around.
Drove back toward downtown, toward my sterile apartment and empty life.
At a red light, I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.
This had to stop.
I couldn't keep doing this—watching, wondering, hoping for something that clearly wasn't there.
Elena didn't remember me. Or if she did, she wanted nothing to do with me.
Either way, I needed to accept it and move on.
The light turned green. I drove home.
In my apartment, I poured a drink I didn't want and stood at the window, staring out at the city.
Tomorrow, I'd stop. I'd focus on work, ignore Elena, maybe even consider attending Felicia's ridiculous gala just to prove to everyone—to myself—that I was moving on.
Tomorrow.
Tonight, I let myself remember.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she'd looked at me like I was worth knowing.
One night. That's all it had been.
Why couldn't I let it go?
Elena's POV
Something felt off.
I couldn't place it. Just a prickling at the back of my neck, like I was being watched.
On the bus, I'd glanced around several times. No one suspicious. Just tired commuters.
At the convenience store, I'd looked out the window while paying. Nothing.
But the feeling persisted.
I walked home quickly, checking over my shoulder twice. Empty street. Normal traffic. Nothing unusual.
I was being paranoid. Felicia had me jumping at shadows.
At Mrs. Chen's, I collected Leo—who'd apparently spent the afternoon making a "surprise" that involved glitter and far too much glue.
"It's for you, Mama!" He thrust a lumpy, sparkly construction paper heart at me.
"It's beautiful. Thank you, baby."
"Mrs. Chen helped, but I did most of it."
"Most of it," Mrs. Chen agreed, smiling. "By which he means he dumped the entire bottle of glitter and I salvaged what I could."
"It's perfect."
We went home. I made dinner—spaghetti, Leo's favorite. He chattered about his day, about the cat he'd seen at Mrs. Chen's, about the bird that landed on the windowsill.
Normal. Sweet. Safe.
But I kept glancing at the window, that uncomfortable feeling lingering.
After Leo was asleep, I locked the door. Checked the windows. Drew the curtains.
Told myself I was being ridiculous.
No one was watching.
No one cared.
I was just tired and stressed and seeing threats that didn't exist.
Tomorrow would be better.
I repeated it like a mantra until I believed it.
Tomorrow would be better.
Alexander's POV
Saturday
I woke to texts from Victoria.
Brunch tomorrow. Family dinner Sunday. Both mandatory.
Also, the Sterling gala is the 15th. You're attending.
With Felicia. I already told her you'd be her date.
I stared at the messages, jaw clenched.
She'd decided for me. As always.
I typed back: I never agreed to that.
Three dots appeared. Then: You don't have to agree. You're a Thorne. Act like it.
I threw my phone onto the couch.
This was my life. This had always been my life. People making decisions for me, managing me, directing me toward what they thought I should want.
And I was so tired of it.
But what choice did I have?
I was a Thorne. I had responsibilities. Expectations.
I'd known that the moment I was born.
I spent Saturday working, trying to distract myself.
Reviewed contracts, analyzed market trends, did everything I could to not think about Elena or Felicia or the life I didn't want.
It didn't work.
By evening, I was restless and frustrated and desperate for something—anything—that felt real.
I thought about that night. Again and again.
And Elena, who'd given me that moment without even knowing it.
I pulled out my laptop, searched her name again.
Still nothing. No social media, no personal information, no clues to who she really was.
Just Elena Moreno. Victoria's assistant. A ghost.
I closed the laptop, frustrated.
Tomorrow, I'd go to brunch. Smile at relatives. Pretend everything was fine.
Sunday, I'd sit through family dinner and listen to Father's plans for my future.
And on the 15th, I'd attend Felicia's gala and play the role everyone expected.
Because that's what Thornes did.
We played our roles.
Even when they killed us inside.
But late at night, alone in my apartment, I let myself wonder.
What if Elena did remember?
What if she was pretending, just like me, trapped in a role she didn't want?
What if I wasn't the only one suffocating?
The thought gave me hope I had no right to feel.
And made everything so much worse.