Chapter 204

Elizabeth's POV

After Alexander left, I stayed at the dining table for a long time.

The milk had gone cold. The bread had turned stiff.

When Lisa came over to clear the dishes, she caught me staring into nothing and asked softly, "Ms. Spencer, are you okay?" I shook my head, and she carried the plates away without another word.

I kept thinking about the way he had looked this morning.

When he said, "Then I'll go," his voice had been calm, but I knew better than to mistake calm for surrender. He wasn't backing down. He was changing tactics.

While Franklin was winning people over at the company, Alexander had chosen not to stay there and play along.

It wasn't avoidance. It was refusal.

He had no intention of making moves on someone else's board. He was going to set up a board of his own, on his own terms, with rules no one else could touch.

I picked up my phone and texted Julia.

[Did you find the reporter?]

[Yes. I reached out to three and narrowed it down to one. His name is Stanley Ortiz. He did legal reporting for a few years, then moved into business journalism. His writing is sharp, and his background is solid. Regular PR pressure won't work on him. I'm sending you his portfolio.]

A few minutes later, Julia sent over a link. I opened it and read several of his pieces.

Politics. Business. Gray-zone dealings.

Every article was backed by hard proof.

He was the one.

[How do I contact him?]

[I sent him your card. He said he has time this afternoon and can meet in person.]

I looked up at the clock on the wall. Ten-thirty in the morning. There was still time.

[Okay. Send me the address.]

After I sent the message, I stood and went upstairs to change.

Before I left, I texted Alexander.

[I'm heading out to meet someone. The driver is taking me, and security is with me. I'll be fine.]

The reply came almost immediately.

[Who are you meeting?]

[A reporter.]

[Name?]

[Stanley Ortiz.]

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

[I know him. What are you meeting him for?]

I sent: [There are things from the birthday banquet that need to be made public.]

This time, his silence lasted longer. [Be careful.]

[Okay. I'll tell you about it tonight.]

After sending that last message, I changed into flats, picked up my bag, and walked out of the villa.

The meeting place was a café downtown.

Julia had picked it. It wasn't hidden exactly, but it was quiet, with only a handful of customers, the kind of place where conversation could stay low and private. By the time I arrived, she was already there, seated at a corner table with two cups of coffee waiting.

"He's not here yet?" I asked as I sat down.

"Traffic," Julia said. "He said he'd be ten minutes late." She looked me over, her gaze moving across my face. "Have you lost weight? Your face looks thinner."

"I don't think so. It's probably just the dark clothes."

She didn't press.

She lowered her eyes and stirred her coffee, her voice dropping with the motion. "Elizabeth, are you really sure about this? Once what happened at the birthday banquet gets out, there's no going back. You'll be completely at war with The Windsor Family. Mr. Gray Windsor, Franklin, all those relatives of theirs—they'll all hate you."

"Then let them," I said. "I don't care."

"What about Alexander? He'll be stuck in the middle—"

"He won't be stuck in the middle," I cut in. "He's on my side."

Julia looked at me for a moment, then smiled. "Okay. That's all I needed to hear."

Stanley was younger than I expected.

He looked to be under forty, dressed in a dark jacket and glasses, almost scholarly at first glance.

But his hands were large, the knuckles pronounced, and when he shook mine, his grip was firm enough to suggest a different kind of strength.

"Ms. Spencer, Julia gave me the general outline," he said as he sat down, skipping small talk entirely. "But I need the full version from you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

He set a recorder on the table and looked at me steadily. "You can say whatever you want. I'll decide what gets recorded for the story. If something isn't suitable for publication, I'll confirm with you first."

I looked at the recorder, and something strange loosened inside me.

It wasn't nerves. It wasn't fear.

It was relief.

These things had been sitting on my chest for too long.

My father's death. Franklin's scheme. Alexander's fifteen-year investigation. Gray's protection.

Saying it out loud wasn't only about the birthday banquet. It was for me too.

"Where should I start?" I asked.

"Start with what people most need to know."

I drew in a slow breath. "Fifteen years ago, a project at The Windsor Group went wrong. Franklin Windsor was the person in charge, but in the end, my father took the fall."

Something shifted in Stanley's eyes, but he didn't interrupt.

"My father's company went bankrupt because of it. He carried all the losses and all the blame. Three months later, he died."

"And Franklin?" Stanley asked. "Where did he go?"

"He went overseas, taking what was left of the project money with him, and lived there for fifteen years. During that time, several companies under his name were operating abroad, and their funding came from overseas accounts tied to that part of The Windsor Group's business."

"Do you have proof?"

"Yes."

Stanley held my gaze in silence for a beat. "Ms. Spencer, do you understand what happens if this becomes public?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I am," I said. "But someone else is more afraid than I am."

By the time I left the café, dusk was settling over the city.

Julia had already gone, saying she had work at the studio tomorrow.

I stood alone outside the café, waiting for the driver to pull the car around.

The night wind cut cold across the sidewalk. I pulled my coat tighter and watched people hurry past under the streetlights, each wrapped in their own destination, none of them noticing me.

My phone vibrated.

Alexander.

[Done?]

[Yes. I'm heading back now.]

[I'll be home waiting for you.]

I looked at those words, and warmth moved quietly through me.

When the car pulled into the villa's driveway, the lights in the living room were still on. Alexander was standing at the door with his phone in his hand, as if he had been waiting for my message even while watching the drive.

The moment the car stopped, he came down the steps and opened my door.

"How did it go?"

"Pretty well." I stepped out and looked up at him. "He agreed to be there at the birthday banquet."

Alexander studied my face, but he didn't ask for details. "Come on. Dinner's ready."

He took my hand and led me inside.

Lisa had already set the table, and when she saw us come in together, she quietly excused herself and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Dinner passed in near silence.

Neither of us spoke. I kept my eyes on my plate, but my mind was still circling everything I had said to Stanley that afternoon.

He knew more than he had let on.

I had tested him with a few questions, and he answered without hesitation. He wasn't an ordinary reporter. He had people behind him, resources, access, channels most journalists didn't have.

And Alexander had said, I know him.

He knew Stanley.

I lifted my head and looked across the table at him. "Alexander, was Stanley your arrangement?"

His fork paused midair.