Chapter 143
Alex's POV
I clenched my jaw. The scene around me blurred—the sleek furniture, the cityscape through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It all disappeared, and I was dragged back to age fourteen.
The Morgan family had money. Power. But my father had made enemies climbing to the top. He'd turned on relatives, destroyed anyone in his way, all to push the family business to its peak.
I became a target. Became the weakness everyone used against him.
When no one cared about me, the Cooper family was there. They gave me shelter. Comfort. More than that—they fucking saved my life.
I was kidnapped at fourteen. The kidnappers demanded ransom—millions. Called my father, told him in detail what they'd do to me if he didn't pay.
He chose to call the police. Didn't even hesitate.
Left me there to die.
It was Violet who begged her family to help. They provided the ransom, negotiated with those bastards for days until they finally released me.
My father never showed up. Not once. Not even after I was safe.
The trauma broke me for months. I couldn't speak. Couldn't form words. Fear wrapped around my throat like chains I couldn't loosen.
Violet sat with me through all those days. Every single day. Talking to me, sitting with me in silence, refusing to leave even when I couldn't respond.
She was the first person I opened up to. The first warmth I tried to grasp.
We were both too young. Too young to understand how to separate gratitude from dependence. Comfort from love.
But I was good to her. So damn good. I was cruel to everyone else—harsh, distant, unapproachable. But with Violet, I was different.
I promised her many things. Made vows I thought I could keep.
I promised I would marry her.
---
Violet's POV
I stared at the message I'd sent. Lost in memories.
He was too good to me back then.
He gave me everything. Anticipated my needs before I voiced them. Never raised his voice. Never complained.
It felt like being suffocated by silk.
"Alex," I said carefully. "I've been thinking about studying abroad."
He looked up. Smiled. "You'd be brilliant at it."
"It would be two years."
"I know." He reached over, took my hand. "I'll visit every month. We can make it work."
See? The perfect answer. Always the perfect answer.
I wanted him to object. To demand I stay. Show some crack in that controlled facade.
Instead, he was already pulling out his phone, probably checking flights.
"What if..." I pulled my hand back. "What if I need space? To figure out what I really want?"
His expression didn't change. "Then take it. I'm not going anywhere."
That certainty. That unwavering belief that I'd come back to him.
It made me want to run.
---
Three years ago - Valhalla
Alex showed up like clockwork every month. Flights after board meetings. Four hours of sleep, then flying back to close deals.
He never complained. Never asked for anything.
I started going out more. Gallery openings. Wine tastings. A professor invited me to his studio. A curator asked for my number.
Nothing happened. But I didn't stop them from asking.
Is this it? This safe, predictable life?
Alex sat in my tiny apartment, exhausted from yet another transatlantic flight. "The families want to set an engagement date."
My stomach dropped. "So soon?"
"We've been together ten years." He rubbed his eyes. "But if you need more time—"
"No." The word came out too fast. "After graduation. We'll do it then."
He smiled. Relieved.
I felt like I was signing a death warrant.
---
One year ago
The business dinner was mind-numbing. Alex beside me, charming investors with that cold professionalism that wore like armor.
Then someone said something. About Alex's father. About the Morgan family being built on corpses and betrayal.
I watched it happen.
One second, Alex was calm. The next, he had the man by the throat. A broken wine glass in his hand. Sharp edge pressed against the guy's neck.
Blood. Screaming. Security rushing in.
I grabbed Alex's arm. "Stop! You'll kill him!"
He looked at me. Eyes completely empty. Like he didn't recognize me at all.
Then he blinked. Dropped the glass. Walked out.
The man needed surgery. Vocal cord damage. Might never speak normally again.
Alex's lawyers made it disappear. Money changed hands. NDAs were signed.
But I couldn't forget those empty eyes.
A week after that incident.
"It's PTSD," the therapist said quietly after I convinced Alex to come. "From the kidnapping. Severe trauma response."
Alex sat rigidly in his chair. Silent.
"Can it be treated?" I asked.
"Managed. With therapy, medication. But episodes can still occur, especially under extreme stress." She looked at Alex. "You'll need ongoing support. For life."
I couldn't process it. Couldn't reconcile the gentle man I knew with the monster I'd witnessed.
So I did what I always did when trapped—I ran.
Not physically. Emotionally. I started spending time with Pierre, an art dealer who made me laugh. He didn't know my family history or expect perfection.
Alex found out the night before our engagement party.
He came to my apartment to discuss final details and saw Pierre kiss my forehead. Saw me in another man's arms—vulnerable in a way I'd never been with Alex.
"You've never looked at me like that," he said quietly after Pierre left. "Like you need me."
He was right. I'd taken his devotion for granted, never realizing I'd never truly needed him. He'd made himself so indispensable that I'd forgotten what it felt like to want someone.
"I think we should postpone—" I started.
"No." His voice was eerily calm. "We should end this. You deserve someone who makes you feel... whatever he makes you feel."
He didn't show up to the engagement party. Left me to face both families alone, to explain why the golden couple was suddenly over.
I spent months trying to forget him. Dated other men, traveled, threw myself into work. But Alex haunted every relationship.
Happiness is the desire for repetition, someone once said. I finally understood what I'd lost.
When I heard he was still single—that no woman had managed to capture his attention—I thought maybe...
The charity gala in Aetheria two months ago was my chance. I invited him to dance.
"I should find my fiancée now. Excuse me."
He walked away before the song ended. I've been watching his back ever since, seeing him grow more distant, more untouchable.
Until tonight.
My phone buzzed in my trembling hands. He'd finally replied.