Chapter 189

Chapter 189

Elizabeth's POV

Alexander didn't reply.

I stared at my screen and waited. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.

No "okay." No "no." Nothing.

He'd already left.

Or maybe he didn't want me to go, so he decided the easiest way to stop me was to say nothing at all.

I stood by the window, my grip tightening around my phone until my knuckles ached. Windsor Estate—the place I'd never set foot in, the place that held the Windsor Family's roots.

Franklin had hidden a notebook there. Alexander was going to retrieve it.

And he didn't want me with him.

Not because it was unsafe, but because it was Windsor Family territory.

What would it mean if I showed up at Windsor Estate as an outsider—an outsider carrying a Windsor Family baby, but with no title, no official place in their world?

It would mean I'd walked straight into the center of the whirlpool on my own. It would mean I could never again say, "This has nothing to do with me."

But it had always had something to do with me.

I lifted my phone and called Alexander. He picked up.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"On the road." His voice was even, controlled, but I could hear wind in the background, the rush of it against a car window.

"Which way?"

"Elizabeth."

"I asked which way." My voice rose, sharper than his.

He went quiet for a beat.

"Galaxy District. Windsor Estate is at the foot of the mountain in Galaxy District."

I hung up and went upstairs to change. When I rushed back down the stairs, Lisa startled like she'd been waiting to intercept me.

"Ms. Spencer, where are you going?"

"Out."

"Mr. Windsor said you can't—"

"Mr. Windsor doesn't get to decide where I can go." I cut her off, moved to the entryway, and slipped on my shoes.

Lisa hovered behind me, panic tightening her face. "Ms. Spencer, please don't make this hard for me…"

I turned and looked at her. "Lisa, I'm not trying to make things hard. I have something important I have to do. If Alexander asks, tell him I left on my own. This isn't on you."

Her mouth opened like she wanted to argue, but whatever she saw in my expression made her swallow the words.

I opened the door and stepped outside.

The security guard at the gate saw me and froze, then moved to block my path.

"Ms. Spencer, Mr. Windsor gave orders—"

"Mr. Windsor is on his way to Windsor Estate right now." I met his eyes. "He's going to pick up something that could put him in danger. Are you really going to stop me, or are you going to let me get to him?"

The guard hesitated.

"You can come with me," I said. "That way you're not abandoning your post, and I get to see Mr. Windsor."

He thought for three seconds, then nodded.

When the car pulled away from the villa, I leaned back in the seat, my heart beating so fast it felt out of rhythm.

It wasn't fear. It was urgency.

Windsor Estate—Windsor Family territory. Franklin was out of the country, but had he left anyone behind? Anyone still loyal to him?

If Alexander went in alone, could something happen?

The questions kept circling in my head until my temples ached.

"Drive faster," I told the driver.

"Ms. Spencer, we're already going as fast as we can."

I didn't push again.

Outside the window, the scenery slid backward in a blur. The city lights thinned. The road widened. The traffic disappeared.

In the direction of Galaxy District, the outline of the mountain surfaced in the dark like a sleeping beast.

Windsor Estate sat at its base.

The place I'd never stepped into. The Windsor Family's foundation.

Alexander had grown up there. Franklin had been driven out from there. Gray Windsor had set all the rules there.

That place held the Windsor Family's history, its secrets, its pride and its shame.

And I—an outsider—was about to walk through its doors tonight.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped at the foot of the mountain.

Ahead was an uphill road lined with sycamores, their trunks so thick you couldn't wrap your arms around them. Old trees. Decades, maybe longer.

At the end of the road, I could just make out the silhouette of a large house—gray stone, dark roofline, quiet against the night.

"Ms. Spencer, the car can't go any farther," the driver said.

I pushed the door open and stepped out.

The security guard followed with his phone in hand, a location dot glowing on the screen.

"Where is Mr. Windsor?" I asked.

He glanced down. "Inside. He's already entered Windsor Estate."

I drew in a slow breath and started up the hill.

The night wind carried the crisp, damp chill you only got near the mountains.

Overhead, the sycamore leaves rustled, a low whispering sound that felt like a language I couldn't quite understand.

After about ten minutes, I saw the front door of the old house.

It was open.

Not forced. Not broken. Open the way someone opened it from the inside and left it waiting—just barely ajar, with a thin slice of warm light spilling out.

I pushed the door and stepped in.

The courtyard was huge—bigger than I'd expected.

Brick pavers underfoot. A sweet olive tree tucked into one corner. Beneath it, a stone basin with a few koi gliding through the water, their colors flashing under the light.

Everything was neat, cared for, like someone still maintained it.

But there was no one.

No one in the courtyard. No one in the corridor. Every room was shut tight. The silence sat heavy, like an abandoned town that hadn't realized it was empty.

"Alexander?" I called.

No answer.

I walked forward, crossed the courtyard, and entered the main hall.

The lights were on.

An elderly man sat in a carved wooden armchair, his hair silver-white, the lines in his face deep as if they'd been cut there. He wore a dark, high-collared suit like something from an older generation, and he held a cane. His gaze landed on me with a quiet authority that didn't need volume.

I stopped.

"Who are you?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of someone used to being obeyed in this house.

"Elizabeth," I said.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Elizabeth." He repeated my name as if testing it against memory. "So you're Elizabeth."

I didn't know why he knew me, but I nodded anyway.

"Where's Alexander?" I asked.

He didn't answer. His gaze traveled over me, unhurried, and when it reached my stomach, it paused.

"How many months?"

"A little over four."

He went silent for a moment, then let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for years. "This child shouldn't come into the Windsor Family."

My fingers tightened on the hem of my coat.

"Where is Alexander?" I asked again, colder this time.

The old man flicked his cane toward the back of the house. "In the back courtyard. He came for something."

I didn't ask anything else. I turned and headed that way.

"Elizabeth." The old man called my name behind me.

I stopped, but I didn't turn.

"That thing—he shouldn't be looking for it. If he finds it, the Windsor Family will fall apart."

I turned back to look at him.

"Whether the Windsor Family falls apart has nothing to do with me," I said. "But Alexander can't be hurt."

The old man looked at me, saying nothing.

I turned and walked toward the back.

The rear courtyard was darker than the front, lit only by a few wall lamps that cast a dim yellow glow. The corridor stretched long, doors lining both sides, all of them shut, the end swallowed by shadow.