Chapter 170
Alexander
I knew something was off the second I stepped onto that floor. The hallway was too quiet. Not empty, just… still. The kind of still that makes the air feel heavier than it should. I’d been looking for Lila. Mara told me she’d stepped out after the technical review, probably hunting down a quiet room to obsess over encryption protocols like the perfectionist she’d grown into. I almost smiled at that. She always disappeared when she needed to think. Even as kids, she’d hide in my mom’s study with a notebook while I was causing chaos.
I turned the corner toward the smaller consultation rooms and heard voices.
Camilla’s voice. Sharp. Low. Not the polished boardroom tone she used when executives were around. This was something else. I stopped, and a slow, cold realization settled in my chest.
I moved closer to the door without making a sound. Years of security briefings and years of growing up in the shadow of Thorne Group had trained me well. You learn to listen before you act. Then Lila’s voice, calm but tight. “He’s my cousin.”
My jaw clenched. And then Camilla laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
For a second, I thought I’d misheard. I waited for Lila to correct her again, for Camilla to backtrack, to regain some professional footing. My hand tightened on the door handle.
“You’re a gold digger. You latched onto him because of his name.”
That was it.
I pushed the door open. It didn’t slam. I didn’t need theatrics. I just stepped in. Camilla froze mid-breath. Lila turned slowly, confusion flickering across her face before she saw me. And I saw red, the controlled kind. The dangerous kind.
“Continue,” I said evenly.
Silence swallowed the room. Camilla’s composure cracked instantly. Her shoulders stiffened, her eyes wide in a way I’d never seen before. She wasn’t used to being caught without her corporate mask.
“I—Alexander, I didn’t realize you were—”
“I’ve heard enough.”
My voice came out flat. Controlled. Which meant I was furious.
I glanced at Lila for a second. She was standing tall, chin slightly lifted, but I knew her. I could see the tension in her fingers, the way she pressed her lips together to stay composed. She shouldn’t have had to. I stepped further into the room, placing myself slightly in front of her without even thinking about it.
“Are you stupid?” I asked Camilla.
The question landed like a slap, and her face drained of color. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll repeat it slower if you need me to.” My tone didn’t rise. That made it worse.
“You questioned whether she’s worthy of me?” I continued. “You accused her of using me? Of being a gold digger?”
Camilla’s mouth opened and then closed. Lila shifted behind me. “Alexander…”
I lifted a hand slightly without looking back. Not to silence her. Just to tell her I had this. I turned back to Camilla.
“Lila is my cousin.” The words were precise. Final.
“Her mother is Angela Thorne. Vice President of Quantum. My aunt.”
Camilla blinked.
“And my mother, Zia Thorne,” I continued, “is the CEO of Quantum. The same company Lila is set to lead.” I watched the information land.
Watched the pieces rearrange in her head.
“You think she walked in here because of me?” I asked quietly. “She’s been in boardrooms since she was a teenager. She understands mergers better than half the department heads on this floor.”
Camilla swallowed.
“I—I didn’t know—”
“That’s the problem.”
My patience snapped just slightly.
“You didn’t know. And instead of asking, instead of behaving like a professional, you decided to corner her in a closed room and attack her character.”
The word "corner" hung heavy in the air. Her eyes flicked toward Lila, then back to me.
“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted weakly. “I just thought—”
“You thought what?” I stepped closer. “That she seduced her way into a joint venture between two billion-dollar corporations?” I asked, and she flinched.
The anger inside me wasn’t just about the accusation. It was about the disrespect. The implication that Lila’s years of work, the nights I’d seen her buried in case studies, and the sacrifices she’d made stepping into leadership under my mother’s scrutiny—none of that mattered; it was all reduced to jealousy and gossip.
“You work under me,” I said calmly. “You represent this division. And you decided to make this personal.”
Camilla’s composure was gone now. She looked smaller. Not physically. Just… diminished.
“I misunderstood the situation,” she said quickly. “I thought there was…”
“There is nothing,” I cut in. “Except family. And business.”
Silence stretched. I glanced back at Lila then. Really looked at her.
Her eyes met mine. There was something there she didn’t want me to see. Hurt. Not because she believed Camilla. But because it stung to be reduced like that and my chest tightened. I turned back to Camilla.
“You’re fired; report to HR.”
“HR?” she asked, her lips trembled slightly, pride fighting humiliation.
“I never meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant. Leave now, before I have security drag you out.” I stepped aside, opening the path to the door. For a second, she didn’t move. Then she gathered what little dignity she could, walked past us, and left. The door clicked shut.
I stood there for a moment, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. Then I turned to Lila. She was looking at the table now, fingers resting lightly against the edge. Calm again. Too calm.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded once. “I handled it.”
“I know you did.”
That wasn’t the point. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You shouldn’t have had to.” She let out a small breath, almost a laugh. “Occupational hazard, apparently.”
That did it. I reached out and tilted her chin up gently so she’d look at me.
“Listen to me,” I said quietly. “You are here because you earned it. Not because of me. Not because of my mother. You worked for this.”
Her eyes softened slightly.
“I know,” she said. But I still saw that tiny crack.
“I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you,” I added. “Especially not in my building.”
She arched a brow faintly. “Your building?”
I huffed out a breath. “You know what I mean.” That earned a real smile. The tension in my chest eased just a little.
“I didn’t tell you because it felt stupid,” she admitted after a second. “I thought it was just petty jealousy.”
“It was,” I said. “And it ends today.”
She studied me for a moment, like she was recalibrating something in her head.
“You were really mad,” she said quietly.
I shook my head. “She questioned your character. That’s not small.”
Lila had grown into someone formidable. Controlled. Strategic. Sometimes I forgot she still felt things deeply under that calm exterior. I stepped back slightly, giving her space again.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of this room.”
We walked into the hallway together. The building buzzed again, unaware of the storm that had just passed through one small consultation room.
As we headed toward the elevators, I glanced at her.