Chapter 166 Unspoken Doubts
Elena： POV
"I'm sorry," I said, staring down at my hands twisted in my lap. The words felt hollow even as they left my mouth. "I don't know why... I just—"
"I'm not forcing you," Alexander cut in, his voice tight but controlled. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, I forced myself to ask the question that had been gnawing at me since this morning.
"Lila... is she really ours? Did we really have a one-night stand?"
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me, his expression unreadable.
"Yes," he said simply. "After your divorce, we... it happened once. You were grieving, lost. I was there. And then you found out you were pregnant."
I searched his face for any sign of deception, but found only earnestness. Still, something didn't add up. If we'd been intimate enough to create a child together, wouldn't my body remember him?
Wouldn't I feel something when he touched me—comfort, familiarity, even just a flicker of desire?
But there was nothing. Just that same hollow emptiness I'd felt since waking up in his island compound four years ago.
If I'd slept with him, I should be more comfortable with his touch, I thought, confusion swirling through me. Shouldn't I?
Before I could voice this doubt, Alexander reached out and pulled me into his arms. The movement was sudden, almost desperate, and I stiffened instinctively before forcing myself to relax.
"It's true," he murmured against my hair. "I haven't lied to you. Not about this."
I nodded against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent—expensive cologne and something clean, like pressed linen. But even as I let him hold me, even as I tried to draw comfort from his warmth, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered: I don't believe you.
I pushed the thought away. What reason would he have to lie? He'd saved my life, given me a home, helped me raise Lila. He'd been nothing but patient and devoted for four years.
And yet...
"We should go," I said quietly, pulling back. "I'm going to be late."
Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe, or frustration—but he nodded and put the car back in gear.
---
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of a converted warehouse in Shoreditch. The brick facade was painted a soft cream color, with large industrial windows that let in floods of natural light. A discreet brass plaque beside the door read: [Elena Hunt Atelier.]
My studio.
I'd founded it three years ago, not long after Lila turned one. Alexander had encouraged me, said I needed something of my own, a way to channel my creativity.
At first, it had been just me and a single sewing machine in a cramped corner of our apartment. But the business had grown steadily, and now I employed a small team of six—three seamstresses, a pattern maker, an assistant, and a part-time accountant.
Even though I came from a wealthy family, I refused to rely on their money.
It wasn't a large operation by any means, but it was mine. The only thing in my life that felt truly, unquestionably mine.
Alexander walked me to the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. As we stepped inside, I caught sight of my team gathered around the cutting table, examining swatches of fabric. They looked up as we entered, and I saw the knowing smiles bloom on their faces.
"Elena's husband is so thoughtful," I heard Margot, one of the seamstresses, whisper to her neighbor.
"They look so good together," someone else murmured.
I felt my cheeks heat. Alexander must have heard too, because his hand pressed more firmly against my back, almost possessive.
"Ladies," he greeted them with that charming smile he reserved for public appearances. "Don't let me interrupt. I was just making sure Elena got here safely."
They tittered and went back to their work, though I caught several of them sneaking glances at us. I stepped away from Alexander's touch, busying myself with hanging up my coat.
"I should let you get to work," he said, but he didn't move toward the door.
Before I could respond, Lily—my assistant, a bright-eyed woman in her mid-twenties with a pixie cut and an efficiency that bordered on terrifying—emerged from the small office at the back of the studio.
"Elena, there you are," she said, clutching her ever-present tablet. "I was just about to call you. We have a situation."
My stomach dropped. In my line of work, "situation" could mean anything from a fabric supplier going bankrupt to a client demanding impossible alterations.
"What kind of situation?"
"A good one, actually." Lily's eyes sparkled with excitement. "You know that inquiry we got last week from the private client? The one who wanted to commission a custom piece but wouldn't give us any details?"
I nodded slowly. I'd been suspicious of that inquiry—it had come through an intermediary, with no name attached, just a request for a consultation.
"Well, they've agreed to meet with you. But there's a catch." Lily bit her lip. "They'll only sign the contract if you meet with them personally, in three days. And they're insisting it has to be you, no one else."
I frowned. "That's... unusual."
"I know. But Elena, the deposit they're offering is—" She glanced at Alexander, then lowered her voice. "It's substantial. Enough to cover our overhead for the next six months."
My mind raced. Six months of security. No more worrying about whether we'd make payroll, whether we could afford to upgrade our equipment, whether one slow season would sink us.
But something about this felt off.
"Did they say anything else? Give any indication of what they want?"
"No. Just that they want to meet you. Three days from now, 2 PM." Lily hesitated. "I can tell them no if you're uncomfortable."
I looked at Alexander, who had been listening quietly. His expression was neutral, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
"What do you think?" I asked him.
"I think it's your decision," he said carefully. "But if you do decide to meet them, I'd like to come with you."
"Let me think about it," I told Lily. "I'll give you an answer by tomorrow."
She nodded and retreated back to the office. I turned to Alexander, ready to say goodbye, but he was already moving toward the door.
"I'll pick you up after work," he said, pausing in the doorway. It wasn't a question.
I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him I was perfectly capable of taking the Tube home, but the words died in my throat at the look on his face.
"Okay," I said instead. "I'll see you then."