Chapter 145: The Art of lie

~CLAIRE'S POV~

I waited for the explosion. I waited for Alexander to demand to know exactly what Eleanor had said, or to storm out and hunt her down.

Instead, he just sighed. It was a long, exhausted sound that seemed to rattle in his chest. He shoved both hands deep into his trouser pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"Why was she here in the first place?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

I blinked, thrown off balance by the question. "I don't know. She said she came to visit my mother. To bring flowers."

"And how did she know your mother was in the hospital?"

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. I frowned. "I... I don't know. I was too busy trying to process what she was spouting about you to ask about logistics."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration spiking. "It's New York, Alexander. People talk. My father probably told someone at his club, or a nurse recognized the name. Things aren't exactly well-hidden in this city."

"No," Alexander said darkly. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, his eyes narrowing. "It shouldn't be common knowledge. We kept it off the press wires. For your ex-husband's mother to be keeping tabs on you... on your family... that is not gossip, Claire. That is surveillance."

A chill went down my spine.

I knew he was right. I should be worried. The fact that Eleanor knew exactly which hospital, which wing, and which room to find me in meant she was watching.

It made me wonder what else she knew. Did she know about the baby? Did she know about our plans for the company?

"I will deal with Eleanor's stalking later," I said, stepping closer to him. "Right now, I need to deal with what she said. I need to deal with this 'secret' that she and David seem so convinced will destroy us."

Alexander's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away.

"You know why we started this," I said, my voice dropping to a hush so my sleeping mother wouldn't hear. "We were in this for revenge. We had a deal. And I promised I wouldn't pry into your personal life or your past."

I took a shaky breath.

"But we are way past just revenge, Alexander. We are involved. I love you." My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. "And we are building a future. A family."

The word hung in the air between us. Family.

"If we are going to take down our enemies," I continued, my voice trembling slightly, "we cannot have cracks in our foundation. Having secrets that David or Eleanor can weaponize against us... that is how we lose. That is how they break us."

"Is that what's important?" Alexander asked, his voice rough. "That Eleanor walked in here and threatened you with a ghost story, and you're letting it work?"

"And you expect me not to believe her?" I shot back. "When you won't tell me anything?"

"I expect you to trust me."

"I want to!" I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could smell the faint, metallic scent of something dusty still clinging to his jacket.

I took his hands in mine. His skin was cold.

I looked up into his eyes—those intense, green eyes that had looked at me with such adoration just yesterday.

"Tell me, Alexander," I whispered. "Do you have something you aren't telling me? Something real? Something that could destroy everything we have worked so hard for?"

I squeezed his hands.

"Is there a secret?"

Alexander didn't flinch. He freed one of his hands from my grip and reached up, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone. He caressed my face with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"No," he said.

The word was firm. Final.

"Whatever David hinted at, whatever poison Eleanor poured in your ear... it's all lies," he said smoothly. "Fabricated nonsense designed to shake us up. They know they can't beat us in the boardroom, Claire. They know they can't beat us in court. So they are trying to beat us here." He tapped his chest, right over his heart. "They are trying to make you doubt me."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine.

"I am clean," he promised. "There is nothing. Just us."

I looked into his eyes for a long minute. I searched the depths of green for a flicker of hesitation, a shadow of guilt.

I wanted to believe him so much. I wanted to believe that David was just a liar and Eleanor was just a desperate mother trying to save her son.

I wanted to believe that the man holding me was exactly who he said he was. But deep inside, a cold knot of instinct tightened.

I knew he was lying.

I could see it in the way his pupils didn't dilate. In the way his caress was just a little too practiced, a little too distracting. I knew there was a dark past Alexander had tried to bury.

I knew there were bodies—metaphorical or otherwise—in his closet. And the worst part wasn't the secret itself.

The worst part was that he was looking me right in the eye, holding the face of the woman carrying his child, and lying without blinking.

"Okay," I whispered, though the word felt like betrayal on my tongue. "Okay, Alexander."

I let him pull me into a hug, but my arms felt heavy at my sides. He thought he was protecting me. He thought he was saving us.

But as I looked over his shoulder at the hospital window, I realized he might have just handed David the only weapon he needed to win.