Chapter 227: Talking Money... Right Now?

Chapter 227: Talking Money... Right Now?
Alexander’s POV

Jason was doing his damnedest to calm my mom down, but it was like waving a white flag at a raging bull.

"How dare you just give up like this?" she bellowed, pacing the hospital room like a predator ready to pounce.

"Ms. Hayes, please—" Jason stepped in front of her, hands up like he was surrendering to the cops.

"I swear to God, Jason, get out of my way or you're next," she snarled. "I'm furious! How can he not fight for his family? How can he just lie there and accept this bullshit?"

Jason shot me a desperate glance over his shoulder—you made this monster, you deal with it—but I just shut my eyes, letting her rage crash over me like static on a busted radio.

"Ms. Hayes, maybe we should step outside," he suggested, gently guiding her toward the door like he was defusing a bomb. "Alexander needs rest, and the doctors said—"

"Don't you dare lecture me about the doctors! I pushed him out of my body—I'll decide what he needs!"

Somehow, against all odds, Jason wrangled her out. Their voices faded down the hall, her tirade turning into muffled thunder.

Finally, blessed silence.

I let my mind wander to Highcrest City. The Traynor estate with its endless gardens and cozy vibes. I could see it all so vividly—Nora lounging on that plush sofa, Aiden giggling with his toys on the rug, and Charles slouched in an armchair like he owned the place, fitting right in.

The thought twisted like a knife in my gut, but I clung to it. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? Nora deserved a guy who could actually make her happy—one who hadn't called her a cheater, hadn't ghosted the first years of his kid's life. Someone steady, reliable. Not a trainwreck like me.

The door creaked open, and Jason slipped back in, looking like he'd run a marathon.

"Your mom's in the cafeteria, probably terrorizing the coffee machine," he said, collapsing into the chair by my bed. "You owe me huge for that."

"Thanks," I mumbled, staring at the ceiling tiles.

He let out a heavy sigh and yanked out his phone. "You gotta see these," he said, shoving it in my face. "Look at what you're throwing away."

Photos from Highcrest City filled the screen. Aiden grinning ear-to-ear, those piercing green eyes—my eyes—sparkling with pure kid joy. Nora next to him, exhausted but smiling, her hand on his shoulder like a shield.

"You don't wanna know how your own son's holding up after the crash?" Jason prodded, swiping to another shot.

I grabbed the phone, forcing a blank stare. "He looks good. Healthy. That's all I needed."

"Bullshit," Jason scoffed. "And this one?"

He flicked to a pic of Charles standing way too close to Nora, whispering something that made her laugh—head thrown back, real and unguarded. Jealousy hit me like a sucker punch, hot and vicious, but I shoved the phone back with a shrug.

"Looks perfect," I said, voice flat as pavement. "That's exactly what I'm going for."

Jason gawked at me like I'd sprouted horns. "What you're going for? Alexander, what the fuck are you on about?"

I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp twinge in my ribs. "The only way Nora moves on is if I cut myself out completely. I have to hurt her bad enough that she lets go for good."

"So your brilliant plan is to shatter her heart so she runs straight into another guy's arms?" His tone dripped with disbelief.

"Yeah," I said, steady as steel. "It's the kindest thing I can do long-term."

Jason's face darkened like a storm cloud. "You really okay with her calling Smith 'daddy' to your kid? Building a whole life while you rot on the sidelines?"

The words sliced deep, stirring up a whirlwind of rage and regret I couldn't afford to feel. But I kept my poker face. "Not yet. But I'll get there."

"This is so fucked up, man." He shook his head, disgust rolling off him. "I thought you were a fighter."

"Some fights aren't worth the blood," I whispered. "Especially when winning destroys who you're fighting for."

Jason bolted up, stuffing his phone away. "Fine. I tried. Guess I'll butt out."

The silence after he left was suffocating. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand—Nora hadn't reached out in over a week. My thumb hovered over her name. Just a quick check on Aiden? 

No. Clean break. Stick to the plan.

But my elbow bumped the screen, and it started dialing. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Alexander?" Her voice cut through, cool as ice.

"Hey," I stammered, hating how pathetic I sounded. "Just... checking on Aiden."

"He's fine. Getting discharged today." Clipped, like a business email. "Anything else?"

"No, glad he's okay."

"Great. Bye."

The line went dead, her chill hitting like a gut punch. This was the distance I'd engineered—proof the plan was working. So why did it feel like my chest had been carved out with a dull blade?

---

One month later, I stood outside Claflin Enterprises HQ, the weight of normalcy pressing down.

My driver held the Rolls-Royce door as I straightened my tie. This was my grind now: work, the empty echo of Claflin Estate, sleep, repeat. Endless loop. No one left worth burning it all down for. Just quarterly reports and bottom lines.

Employees lined the walkway, erupting into applause like some cheesy parade. "Welcome back, Mr. Claflin!" they chanted.

I bit back a groan—Jason's handiwork, no doubt, his idea of "morale boosting." Childish crap, but I plastered on a smile and nodded through the gauntlet.

My office was pristine, untouched. Jason lounged in the doorway as I sank into my chair, eyeing the paperwork avalanche.

"The prodigal CEO returns," he quipped with a dramatic wave. "Feelin' alive yet?"

"Like I never left," I said, diving into reports. "Thanks for holding the fort."

"Speaking of," he drawled, kicking back opposite me, "I think I've earned a vacay. A long one."

I glanced up. "How long?"

"A month. Paid, obviously."

"Fine. You deserve it."

He grinned, arms behind his head. "Boss life suits me. Could get used to it."

"Maybe start thinking long-term," I suggested. "Wife, kids—the whole deal."

He snorted. "With my luck? Women near me vanish like smoke. Cursed, man."

I studied him, sensing the shadows in his eyes. "Break the curse."

His face tightened, and he pivoted hard. "On to business: the Traynor collab? Teams are chomping at the bit."

I froze, pen mid-air. "Shut it down. Reallocate everything."

"What?" He sat bolt upright. "You were the one jetting to Highcrest, hyping deeper ties. Now you're bailing?"

"Plans change," I snapped. "You handle the shutdown."

"Hell no." He shook his head. "You lit this fire—you put it out."

I glared, but my phone buzzed. Liam's name lit up. I hit speaker. "Liam. What's up?"

"Alexander, let's talk timelines on the collab," his polished voice echoed. "R&D's killing it, but we need exec buy-in."

Jason smirked, all told you so. I resisted flipping him off.

"I'm still in," I heard myself say, the words tumbling out. "Hell, I'll oversee it personally."

We hashed details, and after hanging up, Jason stared like I'd lost it.

"The hell was that? Two minutes ago, you were torching the deal. Now you're all in?"

"Good business," I muttered, stiff as a board. "Projections are solid."

"Bullshit." He leaned in, eyes like lasers. "You can't cut your last tie to Nora, can you?"

"Ridiculous."

"Is it? The guy who chased his wife and kid cross-country, nearly died for them—suddenly cares about margins?" He stood, heading out. "Enjoy your denial. I'm starting that vacay now."

Alone, I drowned in work, chasing distraction like a drug.

As long as I stayed buried, I wouldn't fixate on those green eyes mirroring mine, or the woman who'd worn my ring but carved me out of her heart. I wouldn't picture Charles at the Traynor table, stealing my spot.