Not Alone In This

Not Alone In This
TRISTAN WOLFE

Victor slammed his glass down, the sound slicing through the air. “He’s poor, Hazel. His father died before he could pass anything worthwhile down. He’s nothing but a name. A convenience. And once this little rebellion passes, you’ll forget him the way I taught you to forget everything that didn’t serve you.”

I felt the heat in my chest rise — slow, steady, and familiar — but Hazel raised a hand slightly, like she knew I’d step in, and she didn’t want me to. Not yet.

She reached into her handbag.

My eyes tracked the movement — confused, intrigued.

She pulled out her phone. Calmly. Casually.

And pressed the screen.

Victor’s own voice echoed into the room:
“It’s always been about optics, sweetheart. You are the perfect face for this company. You’ll smile, and I’ll run the business behind the scenes. It’s done.”

Victor’s blood drained from his face.

Hazel didn’t blink. “I recorded everything. After the announcement. Your voice. Your plans. Your manipulations.”

He reached for the phone — fast.

But Hazel pulled it back just in time, her hand steady, her eyes sharp. “Try it, and the next thing on every major business headline will be how Voss Enterprises manipulates succession lines and uses their daughter like a showroom dummy.”

Victor was seething now — pacing, his fists clenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d ruin your own name.”

Hazel stood up, slow and smooth. “You already did that for me. I’m just taking what’s mine.”

“And what,” Victor said with venom, “do you think he’s going to contribute?” His finger jabbed toward me. “He’s nothing.”

I let the insult slide. I’d heard worse from him. She turned to look at me.

And then looked back at Victor.

“He’s everything you’re not.”

Victor’s jaw was tight. “If you do this, Hazel, you’ll lose my support forever.”

Hazel smiled — and it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t forced.

It was dangerous.

“I stopped needing your support the moment I stopped needing your approval. I came here today because I thought that maybe you would treat me differentlu but I was wrong. I'll always remain your price possession, an investment that you had moulded into a shape.”

And then, with all the quiet power of a woman who had finally stepped out of her father’s shadow, Hazel placed the phone down on the desk, turned on her heel, and walked toward the door.

I followed.

We stepped out of the office, into the moon-washed corridor, and for the first time in a long time — she exhaled.

“You recorded him?” I finally asked, unable to hide the utter disbelief — or the growing smirk — in my voice.

Hazel glanced at me, expression unreadable. “I figured he’d try to control me. I just gave him a reason not to.”

A slow, smug smile pulled at my lips.

“Well, remind me never to piss you off.”

Hazel didn’t answer — but the faintest laugh escaped her lips.

And that laugh, small and defiant, was the most beautiful sound I’d heard in years.

…

We hadn’t spoken a word since we walked through the door.

The sharp slam of the lock behind me echoed louder than expected in the silence of my apartment. Hazel toed off her heels by the door and stepped into the narrow living space like she’d done it a hundred times before — like it wasn’t the aftermath of a battlefield she’d just left behind.

She shrugged off her blazer and draped it over the back of my secondhand armchair. The loose strands of her hair had begun to fall from the sleek twist she’d worn to the meeting, and her makeup was faded at the corners of her eyes. Still, she looked unshaken — more real here in my cluttered, uneven world than she ever had in her father’s crystal empire.

I cleared my throat, unsure how to start.

“You blindsided me today.”

She glanced up, tilting her head slightly. “Did I?”

“You asked Victor to give me equal rights in his company.”

Hazel blinked like it was obvious. “Yes.”

I stepped toward her, slowly, not out of anger — just… stunned confusion.

“Hazel,” I said, voice low, “you do realize what you’ve done, right?”

She raised her brows. “I made a deal.”

“You didn’t just make a deal,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “You dragged me in. Into that world. Into him. Into a legacy I’ve spent years trying to stay the hell away from.”

Hazel looked down at her hands for a moment. Then back up.

“You’re mad.”

“No,” I said truthfully. “I’m confused.”

She didn’t speak immediately. Just watched me with those storm-colored eyes that always made me feel like she saw more than I ever said.

Then, finally — “Come sit.”

I hesitated, but I walked over and dropped onto the other end of the couch, turning slightly toward her.

She didn’t reach for me. Didn’t soften the moment with jokes. She just sat there — honest, raw.

“I never wanted the company,” she said. “You know that.”

“Yeah. But you didn’t have to name me. You could’ve handed it off to anyone else. A board member. A professional. A name he wouldn’t mock for being raised in a house without marble floors.”

Hazel’s lips curved slightly — not in amusement, but in understanding.

“Because that’s what he sees when he looks at you. Poor. Unworthy. Temporary.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“But when I look at you,” she said softly, “I see someone who knows how to survive without a throne. Someone who tells the truth even when it hurts. Someone who — despite every reason not to — still looks at me like I’m more than my last name.”

I swallowed hard, the heat crawling up the back of my neck. “That doesn’t mean I know how to run a billion-dollar empire.”

Hazel shrugged. “Neither do I.”

“Hazel—”

“I didn’t name you because I thought you’d save me,” she said, cutting me off gently. “I named you because I trust you. I trust that you’ll call me out when I’m about to make a mistake. I trust that you’ll keep the wolves off my back when I don’t even know they’re circling. And… I trust that you won’t let the business eat me alive.”

She paused. Then added, more quietly, “And because I don’t want to do it alone.”

The vulnerability in her voice wasn’t loud, but it landed like thunder in my chest.

“I don’t know how to belong in your world,” I admitted, leaning back.

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not trying to stay in it. I’m trying to build a new one.”

I turned to her then, searching her face. “And you want me to build it with you?”

Hazel nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

I reached out slowly and took her hand in mine.

“I never asked for this,” I said honestly.

“I know.
”

“But I’ll show up,” I added. “For you.”

Her eyes met mine. “That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

And maybe that was all we ever needed to begin with.