CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
Alexandra lay face-down on her king-sized bed, her face buried in the pillow as muffled sobs shook her entire body. She couldn't stop the overwhelming, crushing feeling of helplessness that squeezed her chest like a vice.

Was her baby okay? Was he frightened? Hungry? Calling for her?

Who would want to inflict this kind of agony on her?

Her plans for London—all of it—were completely forgotten, abandoned like they'd never existed. She pushed herself upward slowly, her arms trembling with the effort. Her gaze fixed on the white ceiling of her bedroom as tears continued their relentless path down her cheeks.

Could this be Damon's doing?

The thought sent ice through her veins. Had he somehow discovered that James was his son? Was this his twisted way of punishing her? Of taking what was his?

So many questions. No answers. Just the gnawing terror that ate away at her sanity with each passing hour.

She'd been checking her phone obsessively—every few minutes, sometimes every few seconds. Waiting for a text. A call. Anything from whoever had stolen her child.

Nothing.

Just silence.

"Please be okay, James," she whispered to the empty room, her voice breaking on his name. "Please, baby. Please."

Her chest tightened painfully, like her heart was physically being crushed.

"Alex."

Thomas's voice came from outside her door, heavy with concern.

"Come in, Thomas." Alexandra pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears as she shifted into a sitting position.

The door opened gently. Thomas stepped inside and closed it behind him, leaning back against it as his eyes found hers.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was soft, filled with empathy that somehow made everything hurt more.

Alexandra released a sharp, bitter exhale. "Do I look like I'm holding up?"

"No." Thomas's response was honest, quiet. "You don't. And that worries me greatly, Alex."

"I can't be fine when my son is out there somewhere—" Her voice rose, cracking with emotion. "With God knows who, doing God knows what to him, Thomas. I can't just sit here and be fine."

"We're all worried," Thomas said, his tone measured and reassuring. "The authorities are searching the school grounds thoroughly. They're doing everything—"

"Are they?" Alexandra cut him off, her voice sharp. "Because it's been hours, Thomas. Hours. And they still haven't given me a single solid lead about who took him."

"They need information first," Thomas explained gently. "They're coming tomorrow to question Margaret and Tisha. The doctor said Margaret wasn't stable enough today for any interrogation that might trigger her further."

Alexandra scoffed, dragging her hands down her face. "It's been how many hours since he was taken, Thomas? And still nothing tangible. Nothing useful."

Her voice was rising again, teetering on the edge of a scream. "What good are they if they can't find one little boy?"

"They need statements from Margaret and Tisha to establish a timeline, to find potential witnesses," Thomas said, his voice remaining calm even as hers escalated. "Details that could give them leads. And we're still waiting for contact from whoever took him. They'll want something—ransom, leverage, something. When they reach out, we'll have our opening."

"Fine." Alexandra's hands clenched into fists on her lap, her nails digging crescents into her palms. The physical pain was almost welcome—something real to focus on beyond the crushing emotional agony. "But if I don't hear anything after tomorrow—if they don't find any useful information—I'm done with them. I'm calling them off and handling this myself."

"Understood." Thomas moved closer, his expression serious. "But know that Adrian and I are here for you. I've already made calls, called in favors from people who owe me. We're exploring every avenue. Fingers crossed, something breaks soon."

Alexandra's throat tightened. "Thank you, Thomas."

His lips stretched into a small, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's nothing, Alexandra. James is like a son to me too. I feel—" His voice caught slightly. "I feel responsible. We're going to make sure he comes back safe. And quickly."

He squeezed her shoulder gently.

Alexandra bit her inner lip hard enough to taste copper. Her eyes turned glassy again, fresh tears threatening to spill.

"I should leave you to rest—"

The sound of the door bursting open cut Thomas off mid-sentence.

Alicia appeared in the doorway, her eyes red and swollen like she'd been crying the entire drive over. The moment her gaze locked with Alexandra's, her face crumpled completely and she let out a broken sob.

She rushed across the room and threw her arms around Alexandra, pulling her into a fierce embrace. They both dissolved into tears, clinging to each other.

"My baby, Alicia," Alexandra choked out, her voice raw and broken. "They took my innocent little boy. He must be so scared. So alone."

"I know, I know." Alicia pressed kisses to Alexandra's temple, her own tears soaking into Alexandra's hair. "But we're going to find him, Alex. I swear to you, we're going to bring James home."

Thomas stood near the door, watching them. He exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly to keep the tears gathering in his own eyes from falling. Alexandra needed him strong right now. She needed someone who could think clearly, act decisively.

He couldn't afford to break down. Not yet.

༺༺♡♡༻༻

Chris's fingers moved across the keyboard with focused precision. He sat at his desk, upper body bare, wearing only sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His eyes were locked on the computer screen, studying every pixel with intense concentration.

He'd taken the photographs from Damon—the supposed evidence of Alexandra's infidelity from five years ago. For weeks, he'd been searching for leads, but everything had hit dead ends. Then he'd been tailed by that stalker, forcing him to slow down his investigation.

But now he'd returned to examining the photos Richard had used to convince Damon that Sasha had cheated.

"Are you sure we'll get anything from these pictures?" Damon had asked when he'd handed them over, skepticism clear in his voice.

"We'll never know unless we look," Chris had responded simply.

And here he was, running each image through editing software, searching for any detail Damon might have missed. Any clue that something wasn't right.

He clicked the final button, applying the last filter.

What he'd feared—what he'd suspected but needed to confirm—stared back at him from the screen in undeniable clarity.

"Fucking Richard Hartley," Chris breathed.

The photographs were fake. Photoshopped. Digitally manipulated.

Someone had taken images of Alexandra and seamlessly inserted another man into the frames, creating scenarios that had never happened. The work was professional, nearly flawless—but the software didn't lie. The inconsistencies in lighting, the slight pixel distortions around the edges of the inserted figure, the shadow angles that didn't quite match.

All of it screamed manipulation.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenching. "That absolute bastard."

Richard Hartley had fabricated evidence to destroy his own son's relationship. He'd looked Damon in the eye and presented manufactured proof of betrayal, knowing it was all lies.

The question was—why? What could Richard possibly gain from tearing Damon and Sasha apart?

Chris grabbed his phone. Damon needed to see this. Now.

༺༺♡♡༻༻

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, Chen?"

Adrian stood in his mansion's study, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. His entire body was rigid with barely controlled fury.

"Why would you say that, Sterling?" Marcus's voice came through the phone speaker, dry and amused in a way that made Adrian's blood boil.

"Do you have James?" Adrian bit out, each word sharp and precise.

"Who?" Marcus asked, his tone deliberately casual.

"Don't play games with me, Marcus." Adrian's voice dropped to something dangerous. "I know you're aware Alexandra has a son. Don't think I haven't been keeping tabs on you. I know you spoke to the boy when you were lurking around her house."

Silence on the other end. Then a soft chuckle.

"If you have him," Adrian continued, his nostrils flaring, "let him go. Hurting a child was never part of our agreement. Never."

"What makes you think I have the boy?" Marcus's grin was audible through the phone.

"Because I know you." Adrian's voice rose despite his efforts to stay controlled. "You're a delusional bastard who'll do anything to get what you want. But touching James? That's crossing a line, Marcus. Bring him back. Now."

"I told you, Sterling—" Marcus's tone turned cold, "—that from now on, I'd be doing things my way. And that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Marcus—"

"And here's the really amusing part," Marcus interrupted, his voice taking on a mocking edge. "You can't do anything about it. Not without blowing your own cover. Not without revealing your entire scheme to Alexandra. So sit there like a good boy and let me handle this, Sterling."

The line went dead.

"No!" Adrian screamed, his control finally snapping.

He grabbed the nearest object—an expensive crystal vase—and hurled it against the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash, glass exploding across the hardwood floor.

His chest heaved, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his ribs. Blood rushed through his head, making his vision pulse.

What had he done? What monster had he unleashed by bringing Marcus into this?

James was innocent. A five-year-old child who'd done nothing wrong. And now he was caught in the crossfire of Adrian's obsession with Alexandra.

Adrian sank into his chair, his head falling into his hands.

This was his fault. All of it.

༺༺♡♡༻༻

"I'm sorry, Richard. Please."

Victoria's voice was pleading as her hands traced patterns across Richard's chest. They were in his sitting room, where she'd shown up uninvited about an hour ago, begging for forgiveness.

Richard pushed her hands away with barely concealed disgust and stood, striding toward his study. He wasn't in the mood for her theatrics today.

"Richard, please." She followed him, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Just listen to me."

"Get out, Victoria." He didn't bother looking at her as he rounded the corner. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"Seriously?" Her voice rose, taking on a desperate edge. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

Richard turned, throwing her a withering glare. But she didn't flinch—just held his gaze with trembling determination.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice cracking. "I won't do anything without consulting you first anymore. I promise. Just—don't shut me out. Please."

Richard scoffed, yanking his arm free from her grip. "That's wonderful. But I still don't want to see you. So leave."

He stepped into his study and shut the door in her face before she could respond.

Leaning back against the closed door, he waited until he heard her footsteps retreat. Then he moved to his couch and dropped onto it, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Almost immediately, a text notification appeared on his screen.

/Mission to be carried out tomorrow/

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Richard's face. He typed back quickly. /No mistakes this time/

He hit send and turned off the screen, leaning further back into the couch cushions. His eyes closed, but the smirk remained.