Chapter 181 Predictable

Chapter 181 Predictable
ALEXANDER POV

“What can I do to make my wife forgive me?” I asked Sebastian.

He was clearly not happy to see me in his house, mostly because I had chased some whore off his lap the second I walked through the door.

“Why are you asking?” he muttered, lighting a cigarette.

Good riddance to his lungs.

“I don’t know where to start, but lately... she kind of fled from me after we almost had sex.”

Sebastian’s eyes went wide, the match freezing halfway to his face. “Jesus, Alexander! Why the hell would you try to initiate sex with her? When did she even escape that death camp?”

“Two months? Three? It doesn’t really matter,” I snapped, rubbing the back of my neck as a familiar, dark frustration clawed at my chest. “I fucked up by even trying to touch her. But it’s so fucking hard to keep my hands to myself when I’m around her. It’s so hard...” I shook my head, my voice dropping. I honestly felt like I was going crazy.

“Take it easy on her, Alexander,” Sebastian said, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “I’m sure she’s still trying to find herself again. The last thing she wants is you hovering over her and not giving her space to breathe.”

That was completely the wrong advice.

“So what am I supposed to do? If I give her space, I won’t see her at all.”

“How about you stay in the shadows? Or help her get better from a distance? And by doing that, you need to keep your hands to yourself. Or better still... keep yourself out of her life forever. She deserves better.”

“Fuck you.” I lashed out, kicking his leg hard under the coffee table.

His nostrils flared in sudden anger, his posture stiffening. “Looks like you have no use for that second eye, fucker.”

“Shut your mouth if you have no actual advice to give.”

Sebastian chuckled, the anger dissolving into amusement as he leaned back, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “You can let Vivianne spend more time with her. If you want to see Ana, have Vivianne invite her over to your place secretly. Then you can see her... and actually try being fucking patient with her.”

Now that was more like it.

I hummed in response, shifting my weight. “Speaking of my sister... are you done with her? Hope nothing is going on between you two?”

Sebastian’s jaw ticked. A muscle flexed beneath his skin, and I knew I had him right where it hurt. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I’m thinking of marrying her off to Kade,” I said smoothly, watching his reaction. “Seems like good business.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Sebastian growled, his voice dropping an octave. “Does she even like Kade?”

“Is there any man my sister doesn’t like? If you have a good face, you’re hitting.”

Sebastian wrinkled his nose at me in pure disgust. “You don’t speak about your sister that way. And don’t marry her off to Kade if she doesn’t want it.”

He still cared about her. It was pathetic how transparent he was.

“I speak about my sister how I want. And besides, have you seen her with Kade lately? They’ve been practically tearing at each other’s pants. I could have sworn she genuinely likes him.”

Sebastian didn’t say another word. He just stared at me, looking completely pissed, doing a terrible job of hiding the jealousy rolling off him. That was my cue to leave before he actually tried to take out my remaining eye.

I stood up, adjusting my jacket. “Thank you for the advice, friend. You were helpful.”

“Since you’ve lost your wife, let’s go to the Archibald gala together next week,” he muttered, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

I looked at him flatly. “So people can think I have a broken home and I’m fucking your ass? No. I’ll pass.”

I swung the door open, stepping out into the hall as Sebastian let out a hysterical laugh behind me. Fucking asshole.

“Where are you going now?” he called out. “Home to sulk as usual?”

“Nope,” I shot back over my shoulder. “I’m going to see her therapist.”

I slammed the door shut before he could reply.

Getting into my car, I gripped the steering wheel and punched the therapist's address into my GPS navigation system.

I wasn’t a stalker, of course. I had simply installed a tracker on Ana’s phone because I needed to keep her safe. I needed to know if some creepy bastard was trying to do something stupid to her. I needed to know she was fine and protected every second of the day.
So yes, that’s how I knew she had gone straight to see a therapist right after she left my place. I needed to see the fucker my wife trusted enough to share her experiences with.

By the time I pulled up to the office, the building was dark. The therapist, a middle-aged woman, was just stepping outside, turning around to lock the heavy glass door. She was clearly done for the day.

I closed the distance silently. The moment she turned around, I was standing directly behind her, casting a shadow over her under the dim streetlights.

She gasped, stumbling back a half-step, her chest heaving in shock. She quickly tried to mask her panic, smoothing down her coat.

“Good evening, sir. We are closed for the day.”

She dug into her purse, pulling out a crisp white card and holding it out to me. “This is my card. You can call tomorrow to request an appointment.”

I looked at the card, then reached out and took it from her fingers. Without breaking eye contact, I crumpled it into a tight ball in my fist and dropped it casually onto the pavement.
The doctor froze, her eyes darting from me to the ruined card on the floor, her expression turning sharp and incredulous.

I took a step closer, crowding her space. “My wife was here today.”

She narrowed her eyes, completely unfazed by my size. “Your wife? And who exactly is your wife, sir?”

“Anastasia. Does the name ring a bell?”

The therapist stopped. She looked at my face—at the stark black patch covering my eye—and suddenly, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

I furrowed my brow, my jaw tightening. I was baffled. What the hell was so funny that she was smiling at me?

“I asked you a question,” I gritted out, my tone darkening.

“Yes, she was here,” Catherine replied smoothly, crossing her arms.

“Tell me everything you both discussed,” I demanded, leaning in. “Every single detail. I know she talked about me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot give you any information regarding my patient,” she said, her voice entirely professional and unyielding. “It is against the law, and it violates our confidentiality agreement.”

I let out a low hum, a dangerous smirk cutting across my face. “I am not a man who gets denied, shrink. So you better start talking before I cut your fingers off.”

Catherine didn't even flinch. “You can do whatever you want to me, sir, but I won’t tell you a single thing. So it’s better you stop trying before I call the feds.”

My smirk widened. I run the feds.

“Not even if I offer you a million dollars?” I asked, testing her.

“No,” she said firmly. “Please drop this conversation immediately.”

I stared at her for a long beat, measuring the steel in her spine. Finally, I shrugged, stepping back to give her space.
“Very well. I’m trying to be a better person for the sake of my wife, so I will drop it. If not... I would have forced the conversation out of your mouth. I would have threatened you.”

She looked at me, completely unbelievable.
“You did indeed just threaten me.”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied easily, brushing a piece of invisible lint off my sleeve. “At least, not with a knife.”

To my surprise, the doctor let out a soft laugh.

“What’s so funny, doc?” I muttered, my brow furrowing deeper.

“Your actions seem incredibly predictable, Mr. Miller,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she adjusted her bag.

Shit! Did they talk about me coming here? Am I really that predictable?

I cleared my throat, forcing my expression back into a cold mask. “Whatever you two discussed... thank you for not telling me. I assume my wife is safe in your care.”

“Of course she is, sir,” Catherine assured me, her tone softening just a fraction.

“Very well, shrink,” I said, turning on my heel toward my car. “Kindly put in one or two good words for me the next time she comes back. Have a nice night, shrink.”

I got back into my car and drove away into the night, leaving the therapist standing under the light.


Author’s Note:
(Thank you for reading:) This author is grateful!)