Chapter 68 The Counterfeit Heart

Chapter 68 The Counterfeit Heart
Alexander

"The extraction team is at the perimeter, Sandra, but they will have to burn the entire building down before I let them touch you."

I kept my eyes fixed on the array of monitors in our private study. My fingers moved across the keyboard with a lethal precision, reinforcing the encryption on the Alpha-X firewall. The high-tension atmosphere in the penthouse was thick enough to suffocate, yet I felt a strange, cold clarity. We had successfully defeated Arthur’s digital override, and we had paralyzed the board’s voting power. But the physical walls of the estate were under siege, and the weight of the generational blood debt was pushing us toward a final, violent collision.

She’s just a tool for my revenge. The thought didn't even sound like my own voice anymore. It was a dead relic of the man I was before the replacement bride walked into the church. Now, every unfiltered internal impulse I possessed was dedicated to her survival. I wasn't fighting for a seat as Chairman; I was fighting for the woman who carried the cure—and our future—in her veins.

The heavy oak doors of the study creaked open behind me. A familiar, soft rustle of silk whispered across the carpet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure draped in an emerald gown, the exact shade Sandra had worn to the gala. The same height, the same dark hair cascading over pale shoulders, and even the same rhythmic, elegant stride.

"Alexander," a voice murmured, a perfect, witty imitation of Sandra’s sharp tone. "The federal marshals are offering a deal. If we hand over the primary ledger now, they will drop the medical treason charges against the baby. Stop looking at the screens and look at me. Don't you want to protect what is ours?"

The figure drifted closer, her shadow falling across the desk. I could feel the desperate, seductive energy radiating from her. She leaned down, her hair brushing against my neck, her hand reaching out to touch the biometric scanner on my laptop. It was a flawless performance, a high-stakes attempt to mirror the woman who had stolen my heart. Olivia had returned, not with a bomb or a lawsuit, but with the ultimate masquerade. She was trying to reclaim the throne she had abandoned by becoming the sister she despised.

I didn't turn around. I didn't even look up from the code scrolling across the central display. A cold, cynical smile touched my lips as I continued to type, my posture remaining as rigid as stone.

"You should have chosen a different perfume, Olivia," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration that made the air in the room freeze. "You spent five hours at the salon trying to match her silhouette, but you forgot that a Draken never misses the scent of what truly belongs to him."

The figure behind me stiffened, the seductive act instantly turning into a sharp, jagged panic.

"I am standing right here, Alexander!" Olivia hissed, her voice dropping the imitation and returning to its usual manic, unfiltered desperation. She grabbed my shoulder, trying to force me to face her. "I am the bride you were promised! I am the one who knows the family secrets! Sandra is just a fluke of biology, a carrier for a research project that is killing her. Why are you choosing the replacement when the original is back?"

"Because you smell like desperation and expensive chemical masking," I rasped, finally turning my head just enough to look at her through the reflection of the blacked-out window. "Sandra smells like jasmine and the rain that fell the night we survived the bunker. She has a scent of fire and resilience that you couldn't replicate if you had a thousand years and my father’s entire laboratory."

The attractive, magnetic pull I felt for Sandra was not about a dress or a hairstyle. It was an against-the-world energy that was etched into my very soul. I had successfully identified the fraud without a single glance, proving that our connection was deeper than any physical contract.

I stood up, my dominant presence forcing Olivia to stumble back. I reached out and gripped her wrist, my eyes bloodshot with a lethal, unfiltered fury. The sweet spots of my life were few, and they all belonged to the woman currently hidden in the panic room. I would not allow this counterfeit ghost to touch the system Sandra had built to save us.

"The deal is dead, Olivia," I growled, shoving her back toward the door as the security alarm for the garage floor began to howl. "And so is your place in this house. Get out before I let the Alpha-X firewall report your location to the very marshals you brought to my door."

Olivia stumbled into the hallway, her face twisted with a hateful, cynical rage as she pulled a small, silver remote from her cleavage. "You think you can tell us apart by scent?" she screamed, her thumb hovering over a red ignition switch. "Then let's see how well you can find her in the smoke, Alexander!

I didn't come here to win you back; I came here to ensure that if I can't be the Chairman's wife, there won't be a Chairman left to serve!" I heard a massive, muffled explosion rock the floor beneath my feet, and the monitors in the study suddenly went pitch black.

"Alexander!" Sandra’s voice screamed through the internal comms, but it was followed by the sound of glass shattering and a heavy, mechanical struggle. "The panic room... the vents are pulling in the garage exhaust! The biological timer is hitting the red zone!"

I sprinted toward the hidden door, but a secondary blast blew the hallway ceiling down, trapping me in the study as a live video feed from the perimeter fence flickered on my phone. Lucas was standing at the gates, but he wasn't alone—he was shaking hands with my father's attorney, and they were holding a signed death certificate with my name on it.