CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT
"Fuck!"

Marcus stared at the television screen, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. The news anchor's voice droned on about how Sterling heiress Alexandra had narrowly escaped death in a parking lot explosion that claimed the life of her driver.

He pressed his palm against his face, dragging it down slowly as his eyes shifted to the small figure on the bed across the room.

James lay motionless, finally asleep after hours of inconsolable crying. The boy's tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes had driven Marcus to the edge of sanity. He'd given him sleeping pills just to get some peace, some quiet to think.

But watching the news now, there was nothing peaceful about any of this anymore.

Everything had gone wrong. Tisha's death had destroyed his entire plan. Alexandra would never listen to anything he had to say now. Never agree to negotiate. Not after this.

Should he just return James? Maybe inject him with something that would erase his memory of this place, of Marcus's face, of everything that had happened?

Marcus pushed himself off the couch with a heavy exhale. His legs felt weighted as he walked to the small bar built into the wall. He selected a crystal glass from the shelf, his hands steadier than he felt inside, and poured himself three fingers of scotch.

He downed it in one swallow. The liquid burned its way down his throat, settling like fire in his stomach. It gave him a momentary sense of control, though he knew it was an illusion.

His eyes drifted back to James, still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the chaos swirling around him. Marcus pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled to Adrian's number.

He pressed the call.

The phone rang once before Adrian's voice came through, rough and grated like sandpaper. "What do you want, Marcus?"

"Don't give me that tone, Sterling." Marcus's voice came out sharp, edged with barely controlled frustration. "I'm already on edge here. Close to losing it completely."

"Cut to the chase, Marcus." Adrian's hiss was audible even through the phone. "I don't have time for your games right now."

Marcus stepped out of the room quietly, pulling the door almost closed behind him to prevent James from waking or overhearing. He leaned against the hallway wall, his free hand rubbing his face. "I saw the news coverage. The explosion. How is she? How's Alexandra doing?"

There was a pause on Adrian's end. When he spoke, his voice was heavy. "She's not good, Marcus. Not good at all."

"What do you mean not good?" Marcus pressed, genuine concern seeping into his voice despite himself.

"She hasn't stopped crying since it happened." Adrian sounded exhausted, defeated. "And when she's not crying, she's just... silent. Completely silent. Staring at nothing. It's like she's in shock or some kind of trance. I've never seen her like this before."

Marcus closed his eyes, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud. The weight of what he'd set in motion pressed down on his chest. "Adrian, I want out. I'm done with this."

"What?"

"I want to pull out," Marcus repeated, his voice firmer now. "I don't want to play this game anymore. It's gone too far. Someone died, Adrian. Tisha died because of all this scheming."

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

"We need to stop," Marcus continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, more sincere. "We need to leave Alexandra alone. Let her make her own choices without us trying to dictate what we think is best for her. This has to end."

More silence from Adrian's end. Marcus could almost hear him thinking, processing.

Then, finally: "Okay."

Marcus's eyes flew open, his brow furrowing. "Just... okay? That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"Yeah. Just okay." Adrian's voice sounded strained, almost croaked. "What else did you expect me to say, Marcus?"

"I don't know. I just..." Marcus paused, searching for the right words. "I expected more resistance from you, I guess. You've been obsessed with keeping her away from Damon for months."

"Well, maybe watching someone die changed my perspective," Adrian said bitterly.

Marcus's jaw tightened. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try any more schemes after this. No more manipulations. No more plans." He paused, his voice turning harder. "You've already pushed Tisha to her death, Adrian. Don't add more bodies to that count."

The words came out harsher than he'd intended, and his chest tightened as they left his mouth.

"Shut up, Marcus." Adrian's voice turned savage, raw with emotion. "You don't need to remind me of my mistakes. You think I don't know? You think I'm not drowning in guilt right now?"

"Adrian—"

"No. Just stop talking." Adrian's breathing was heavy through the phone. "If you're done with your lecture, get off my phone. And you better bring James back soon. That boy needs to be with his mother."

"I've told you before, I didn't take James." The lie tasted bitter on Marcus's tongue, like spoiled milk. He hated himself for continuing it, but what else could he do?

"Sure you didn't," Adrian said flatly, clearly not believing him.

"Just make sure you watch over Alexandra closely," Marcus said, changing the subject. "Because it's obvious someone wants her dead. Someone who won't stop until they succeed. And after what happened today, they might try again soon."

"I know that." Adrian's voice was clipped, final. "I'm not an idiot. Now fuck off and let me deal with this mess."

The line went dead.

Marcus stood in the hallway, phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the silence. He lowered it slowly and released a breath into the quiet surrounding him.

His eyes moved back to the partially open door where James slept.

I hope I'm doing the right thing.

༺༺♡♡༻༻

"Not again!"

Victoria's scream echoed through her penthouse as she grabbed a decorative vase and hurled it at the wall. It shattered on impact, porcelain fragments scattering across the hardwood floor like scattered teeth.

Her chest heaved with each breath, her teeth grinding together so hard she could hear it in her skull. Fury radiated from every pore of her body.

"How the hell did she escape again?" Victoria's voice came out as a growl, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "How does she keep surviving? It's like she has nine lives!"

She ran both hands through her hair, yanking at the strands hard enough that her scalp stung. The pain felt good, focusing.

"Why was that driver there at that exact moment?" she muttered, pacing her living room in frantic, jerky movements. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor with each step. "Why did she have to get in the way? Everything was perfect!"

A buzzing sound from her door made her freeze mid-step. She frowned, irritation flashing across her features.

Who would dare show up unannounced? Especially now?

She stalked to the entrance and yanked the door open, coming face to face with Richard. His eyes were bloodshot, his normally pristine appearance disheveled. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed past her into the penthouse and dropped onto her couch, his gaze immediately fixing on the television airing the news coverage.

Victoria rolled her eyes and closed the door with more force than necessary. She walked toward him, arms crossed over her chest. "You were behind the hit, weren't you? Tell me you're the one who ordered that bomb."

Richard didn't respond immediately, just stared at the screen showing Alexandra's face.

"Richard." Victoria's voice sharpened. "I asked you a question."

"Get me something strong first." Richard's voice was flat as he loosened his tie with jerky movements. "I need to calm down before I lose it completely. Something expensive."

Victoria held his gaze for a moment, her expression neutral, before turning to her bar. She poured him whiskey—the expensive kind he preferred, the bottle she kept specifically for men like him—and brought it to him without a word.

Richard took a long sip, his eyes closing briefly as the alcohol hit his system. He was boiling inside, his blood practically simmering with rage.

That woman—Sasha, Alexandra, whatever she wanted to call herself—had a talent for escaping death. And he was beyond furious.

"You still haven't answered me, Richard." Victoria's voice cut through his thoughts, her eyes boring into him. "Were you behind it or not?"

"Yes. I ordered it." Richard bit out the words, opening his eyes to glare at the television. "And as always, she escaped while someone else took the fall for her. Someone always does. It's like she's protected by some divine force."

He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he tasted copper.

"Then why do you keep making excuses?" Victoria groaned, resuming her pacing. "Every time you try, she walks away untouched. I could handle that witch myself if you'd just let me. Just say the word and I'll take care of her."

Richard turned to glare at her. "If you're so capable, then why are you waiting for my permission? Why haven't you done it already?"