Chapter 60: CHAPTER SIXTY

Alexandra felt the air leave her lungs the moment Damon called her Sasha. The name burned into her head, bringing back memories—bittersweet, painful memories she'd tried so hard to bury.

So he knew. He'd known all along that she was Sasha.

Her mind raced, questions tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. How long had he known? Was that why he'd kissed her at the club? Was that why he'd acted so differently around her during all those business meetings? Did he also know James was his?

She swallowed hard, her throat tight and aching. She pushed him away from her with trembling hands, taking slow, careful steps backward. Their eyes locked—hers brimming with tears, his filled with desperate pleading.

Everything was crashing down on her at once. Tisha was dead. James was missing. And now she had to deal with the man who'd destroyed her five years ago, the man who'd left her standing alone at an altar in front of everyone she knew.

She could pretend. Could act like she didn't know what he was talking about. But the depth in his eyes, the raw determination written across his face—it told her denial would be pointless.

"Who is Sasha?" The words came out in a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears.

"Can you stop already?" Damon's voice cracked, his expression twisting with pain. "Please, just stop this. Stop pretending."

He took a step toward her, his hands raised slightly like he was approaching something fragile. "I know I messed up five years ago. God, I know that. I replay it every single day in my head. I should have told you what was wrong. Should have talked to you instead of just... leaving you there. Vulnerable and alone in front of thousands of people who came to celebrate us."

His voice broke on the last word.

"But I wasn't thinking clearly, Sash—"

"Stop." Alexandra's voice came out sharp, commanding. "Right this minute, stop it."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms hard enough to leave marks. "Who the hell is Sasha? And what five years ago are you talking about? I think you have me confused with someone else."

"No." Damon shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes. "No, I'm not confused. I know it's you. I know you're my Sasha Rivera from five years ago."

He took another step closer, his voice dropping to something raw and honest. "You're the woman I couldn't live without. The woman I thought about every single day for five years. And yet I didn't think twice before hurting you in the worst possible way."

His hands came up to his face, dragging down slowly. "And I'm sorry. God, Sasha, I'm so sorry."

"Don't call me that." Alexandra's voice trembled despite her efforts to keep it steady.

"I was misled," Damon continued, the words tumbling out now like he'd been holding them in for too long. "Someone lied to me. Showed me things that weren't real, made me believe something about you that I should have known wasn't true. But I was an idiot. I should have come to you. Should have asked you directly instead of just accepting what I was told."

He stepped closer again, and Alexandra found she couldn't move back anymore. Her body wouldn't cooperate.

"I took a rash step and destroyed everything good in my life," Damon said, his voice breaking. "I destroyed us. And I'm sorry, Sasha. I'll spend every single day of my life making up for it if you'll let me. But I'm done pretending you're not standing right in front of me when you are."

Alexandra couldn't believe what she was hearing. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that kept forming. Her palms were sweaty, her knees weak. She wanted to collapse right there, to break down and cry until there was nothing left inside her.

Everything was too much. Too overwhelming. Too impossible to process.

Why was he apologizing? Why was he standing here crying and begging when five years ago he'd just... left? Why wasn't he acting the same cold way he had back then? And what did he mean he'd been lied to? What lies? By whom?

"I am not Sasha Rivera, Mr. Hartley." Her voice came out sharp, professional, a defense mechanism she'd perfected over the years. "My name is Alexandra Sterling. We're nothing but business associates. That's all we've ever been. That's all we'll ever be."

Damon flinched like she'd struck him. "Why are you doing this? Why are you denying what we both know is true?"

"Because there's nothing to deny!" Alexandra's voice rose, cracking. "You're mistaken. You're projecting someone from your past onto me, and it needs to stop."

"Is it worth it?" Damon asked suddenly, his voice breaking. "Fighting me like this? Hating me? Does it make you feel better? Does it give you some sense of control after everything that's happened?"

Alexandra exhaled sharply, her chest constricting painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Hartley. I don't know who you think I am or what you think happened between us, but you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong," Damon whispered. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Tell me you don't remember the coffee shop where we met. Tell me you don't remember our first date at that little Italian place you loved. Tell me you don't remember how we stayed up all night talking about everything and nothing."

"Stop—"

"Tell me you don't remember how I proposed," Damon pushed forward, his voice thick with emotion. "In the garden, with those white roses you said reminded you of nature. Tell me you don't remember any of it, and I'll walk away right now."

Alexandra's breath came in short gasps. Her vision blurred with tears. She couldn't speak. Couldn't form words. Because she remembered all of it. Every single moment.

"Please leave," she finally managed to say. "And I'm sorry about my moment of weakness earlier. I got carried away. Don't read any meaning into it."

"Sasha—"

"Stop calling me that!" The words burst out of her, loud and desperate. "Just stop! I can't—I can't do this right now. Please."

Before he could respond, before he could say anything else that might shatter her completely, Alexandra turned and walked away.

Her legs felt like they might give out with each step, but she kept moving. She had to. Because if she stopped, if she turned back and saw the devastation on his face, she might break down completely. And she couldn't afford to break. Not now. Not with James still missing. Not with Tisha's death still fresh. She had to stay strong.

Behind her, Damon stood frozen, tears streaming down his face. His hands hung limply at his sides, and he looked utterly defeated.

Adrian had stepped out of Margaret's room moments earlier and had witnessed the entire exchange. He stood near the doorway, his jaw tight, his eyes tracking Alexandra's retreating form with concern.

Alicia had seen it too. She'd been lingering in the hallway, watching from a distance. Now she made her way toward Damon, her expression softer than it had been that day she'd slapped him in the parking lot.

"You should give her time," Alicia said quietly, coming to stand face to face with him. "She's been through a lot. More than you know."

Damon wiped at his face roughly. "I can't just give her time. Every day that passes, she builds those walls higher. Soon I won't be able to reach her at all."

"Then you need to be patient. Show her you've changed. Show her you're not the same man who walked away." Alicia's voice was gentle but firm. "Woo her properly this time. Don't rush it."

"She's not ready to let me in." Damon's voice was raw, exhausted. "Can't you see? That's why she's still clinging to being Alexandra. As long as she's Alexandra Sterling, she doesn't have to be Sasha Rivera. She doesn't have to face what happened."

"And that's exactly why you need to be patient," Alicia said. "Give her reasons to want to be Sasha again. Make her feel safe enough to let those walls down. Prove you're better than the man who left her."

She looked genuinely sad now—not at all like the furious woman who'd confronted him and Victoria.

Damon studied her face for a moment, something occurring to him. "You've always known who she really is, haven't you?"

Alicia's lips quirked slightly. "Not really. I've always known her as Alexandra Sterling. I knew she was left at the altar five years ago, but I didn't know the groom's name. I didn't know it was you until recently. Hearing you call her Sasha is actually new information for me."

"So there are things even you don't know about her," Damon said with the ghost of a smile.

"Apparently." Alicia crossed her arms. "But I know enough. I know she's hurting. I know she's barely holding it together. And I know that whatever you're trying to do, it needs to be handled delicately. She's fragile right now, even if she doesn't show it."