Chapter 170 Cold Shoulders

Chapter 170 Cold Shoulders
Amelia's POV

I stood frozen in place as Alexander ended the call with his subordinate. The deadly calm in his voice sent chills down my spine. This wasn't just the CEO or the Head Alpha speaking—this was a man who'd been pushed to his absolute limit.

Alexander tossed his phone onto the desk with such force that I flinched. The device skidded across the polished surface, narrowly missing the edge. His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles straining beneath his skin.

Without acknowledging my presence, he yanked open his desk drawer and pulled out a silver cigarette case. His movements were jerky, lacking his usual grace—a clear sign of just how furious he really was.

As he flicked open the case and pulled out a cigarette, I found myself moving toward him. I couldn't stand seeing him like this, even if part of me understood why he was upset.

"Alex," I said softly, reaching out to grasp his wrist before he could light the cigarette. "Don't smoke too much. It's bad for your health."

His eyes finally met mine, and I almost wished they hadn't. The warmth I'd grown accustomed to seeing there was completely gone, replaced by a cold, hard stare that made my stomach clench.

He didn't respond. Instead, he gently but firmly pulled his wrist from my grasp and lit the cigarette anyway, taking a long, deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

The silence between us stretched uncomfortably. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, desperately searching for something to say that might break through the wall he was building between us.

"Alex..." I tried again, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You've already taken a week off," he cut me off, his tone businesslike and distant. "You should get back to work now, Ms. Throne."

Ms. Throne. The formal address hit me like a slap. Gone was the man who had held me in his arms yesterday, who had kissed me with such passion I could barely remember my own name.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the burning sensation behind my eyes. "Yes, Mr. Westbrook," I replied, matching his formality while my heart cracked. I turned and hurried out of his office before he could see the tears threatening to spill.

Once safely behind the closed door of my own office, I collapsed into my chair and buried my face in my hands. The tears I'd been holding back now flowed freely down my cheeks.

"Stupid, stupid Alexander," I muttered, wiping furiously at my face. "Self-contradicting, jealousy-possessed, cold-hearted monster!" I thumped my fist on the desk, then immediately regretted it when pain shot through my hand.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Alexander's number, knowing it was futile but unable to stop myself. Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same result.

"Damn it, Alexander! You can't just shut me out like this!" I threw my phone onto the desk, watching it bounce harmlessly on the surface.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. "I already explained everything. What more do you want from me? Why can't you just believe me?"

My thoughts turned to Daniel, and my sadness quickly morphed into anger. "And you," I hissed to the empty room, as if Daniel could hear me. "This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? You spoiled, entitled brat."

The realization hit me suddenly, making me sit up straight. Everything made sense now—Daniel had deliberately called me, knowing Alexander would find out, just to drive a wedge between us.

"You've been coddled your entire life, haven't you?" I continued my one-sided conversation with the absent Daniel. "Always getting what you want, throwing tantrums when you don't."

And who had done the coddling? My mind immediately conjured the image of Elaine's cold, calculating eyes. The same eyes that had watched me leave Alexander's home yesterday morning, gleaming with barely concealed triumph when she'd overheard our argument about Daniel.

"Elaine," I whispered, the pieces suddenly clicking together. "You're behind this too, aren't you?"

I forced myself to take several deep breaths, wiping away the last of my tears. Crying wouldn't solve anything. I needed to focus on work and give Alexander some time to cool down. Then maybe we could talk this through like rational adults—and I could tell him about my suspicions regarding Elaine's involvement.

With that thought firmly in mind, I turned to my computer and threw myself into reviewing the quarterly reports that had piled up during my absence.

Two hours later, I stretched and decided I needed coffee. Maybe I could bring one to Alexander too—a peace offering of sorts. As I walked toward the break room, I spotted Janet coming from the direction of Alexander's office.

"Is he still in a meeting?" I asked casually.

Janet looked surprised. "Oh, Ms. Throne. Mr. Westbrook left the office about an hour ago. He seemed in quite a hurry."

My stomach dropped. "He left? He didn't tell me."

Janet gave me a sympathetic look that only made me feel worse. "He asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the day. Said he had personal matters to attend to."

I nodded and thanked her before returning to my office, coffee forgotten. Once alone, I pulled out my phone and called Alexander. It rang several times before going to voicemail. I tried again with the same result.

My anxiety growing, I texted him instead: Are you okay? Please call me when you can.

No response.

I could feel the panic rising in my chest again. What if Elaine had said something to him after I left yesterday? What if she'd poisoned his mind against me even more? It would be just like her—waiting until I was gone to twist the knife, to reinforce every doubt Alexander might have about me.

In desperation, I called Jackson.

"Is Alexander with you?" I asked without preamble when he answered.

"No, he's not, but I saw him yesterday." Jackson replied dryly. "He was... not in the best mood. Did something happen between you two?"

"It's complicated," I sighed. "If you talk to him again, can you let me know he's alright?"

"Will do. But Amelia?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever's going on, give him some space. When Alexander gets like this, pushing only makes it worse."

I ended the call feeling even more dejected. Space was the last thing I wanted to give Alexander right now, but what choice did I have?

By six o'clock, I'd finished organizing Alexander's appointments for the next day and updating the files he'd requested. With nothing left to do, I reluctantly packed up my things and headed out.

The evening air was cool against my face as I walked down the street, trying to decide whether to grab dinner or just head home. My phone felt heavy in my pocket, silent and accusatory. I pulled it out and tried Alexander one more time.

This time, he answered on the fourth ring.

"Yes?" His voice was flat, emotionless.

"Alex, where are you? I've been worried."

"I'm at home."

"Can I come over? We need to talk about—"

"No," he cut me off firmly. "I don't want you here tonight."

The pain of his rejection was so sharp I nearly gasped. "Alex, please—"

"Let's end here now, Ms. Throne."

The call disconnected, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with my phone pressed to my ear and my heart in pieces. I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry in public.

Lost in my misery, I didn't notice the person in front of me until we collided. I stumbled backward, stammering an apology as I looked up.

My words died in my throat as I recognized the face staring back at me.

"You?" I gasped, my eyes widening in shock.