Chapter 140

Chapter 140
Alina's POV

I stood at the desk, my fingers clenching the fabric of the skirt hanging at my side.

Adams had made himself perfectly clear. I understood the meaning behind this move of his. If he succeeded, it wouldn't just be Lowell who suffered—Megan's newly opened boxing gym would take a devastating hit as well. Every boxing-related business under the Vadarich family name would face pressure from both public opinion and finances. And I, the so-called "victim," would be the one to shove the very industry that had once helped me back onto my feet straight into the abyss.

"I understand what you mean," I said slowly. "But this matter... I need more time to think it over."

Adams looked at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a few seconds before he gave a slight nod. "Fine. You have one day to consider. But that doesn't mean you have the option not to do it."

My spirits sinking, I nodded, then turned and walked out of the study. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against the hallway wall, shut my eyes, and felt the churning emotions inside me nearly swallow me whole.

I didn't want to go back to Lowell. Because of what had happened to my parents, I couldn't face him now. But I also didn't want to stab him in the back. He was the one who had taken me away from that auction, the one who had pulled me out of a hell I could never have escaped on my own. Without him, I might still be trapped in some powerful man's basement, passed around like a toy.

Now I stood at a crossroads where one wrong choice would leave me beyond redemption, and I had no idea what to do.

Adams wasn't just after a war of public opinion by having me sue Lowell. What he wanted was to nail Lowell to two stakes—"sex slave trafficking" and "unlawful imprisonment." Once those charges stuck, the family image Lowell had painstakingly built would collapse overnight. And all those he had once purged, all those forces still lurking in the shadows waiting for their moment, would seize the chance to pounce and tear him apart.

At that thought, I clenched my fingers, nails digging into my palms. The pain cleared my head a little.

No matter what, I couldn't go through with this.

I could leave Lowell. I could stop seeing him, could cut him out of my life entirely. But I couldn't be the one to destroy him. He had saved me. He had given me a chance and my dignity back. Even if his father owed my family a life, Lowell himself had never wronged me in any way.

I drew a deep breath, stood up, and walked to the window, pressing my forehead against the cold glass. The turmoil inside me eased somewhat. First thing tomorrow morning, I would go to Adams and make myself clear: I would not do this. If it turned him against me, then so be it.

The next morning, I woke the moment the sky began to lighten. I'd slept in fits and starts all night, my mind churning through one thought after another; the actual sleep I'd managed added up to no more than three hours. I splashed water on my face, changed into clean clothes, then opened the door and walked down the hallway toward Adams's study.

The corridor was quiet. The wall lamps still glowed dim and yellow, and the carpet swallowed the sound of my footsteps. When I reached the study door, I found it half open, and from inside came the sound of Adams on the phone.

"...Right, it's already been filed. The court will take it up this morning. Have you got the media arranged?"

My steps froze in that instant. My heart felt as if it had been seized by a great hand, then hurled into the depths.

Filed? What had been filed?

I gripped the door handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open. Adams sat behind the desk, phone in hand. Seeing me enter, his expression betrayed no surprise at all—he even lifted his chin slightly, signaling me to wait until he finished the call.

"Good, let's leave it at that. The press conference goes ahead as scheduled." With that, he hung up, set the phone on the desk, then raised his head to look at me, an unhurried smile on his face. "You're up?"

I stood in the doorway, staring at that calm face of his, rooted to the spot. "What were you just saying on the phone? What's been filed?"

Adams leaned back in his chair, hands clasped on the desktop, his tone flat, his sharp eyes watching the expression on my face. "The lawsuit. I had it filed with the court in your name. It'll be officially accepted this morning."

For an instant my mind went blank with a buzzing roar. When I spoke again, my voice trembled. "You... what did you say? I told you I needed time to think. I never told you to make the decision for me!"

"You hesitated too long, so I made the decision for you. You know perfectly well this is something you'll have to do sooner or later. Dragging your feet only gives your opponent more time to prepare."

"I never said I'd do it!" My voice rose, the words bursting out almost against my will as I stepped two paces closer to the desk. "What gives you the right to decide for me? This is my business—I have the right to make my own choices!"

Adams looked at me, his gaze neither wavering nor swayed by my anger. He simply watched me quietly for a few seconds, then spoke slowly. "You've already appeared publicly at my side. Everyone has seen you stand on the side of the Charliecross Group. If you withdraw the suit now, people will only think you're wavering, indecisive. And how do you think the media will spin it? 'Alina Charliecross Backs Down at the Last Minute—Suspected of Being Coerced by the Vadarich Family into Dropping the Case.' Do you think Lowell's side would thank you for that? Or would they think you'd been putting on an act?"

My breath caught for a moment.

Adams was right. If I withdrew now, public opinion wouldn't credit me with a change of heart—they'd assume I'd been pressured by Lowell's people into backing off. By then I wouldn't have saved Lowell at all; instead I'd have dragged myself down with him, becoming a laughingstock who pleased neither side.

But I still didn't want to do this. It would mean hurting Lowell—the man I had once truly loved. Even though I'd already decided to leave him, even though I couldn't face what his father had done, I still didn't want to be the one who pushed him off the cliff with my own hands.

"Do you really have to do it this way? Do you have to force me into something I don't want to do?" My voice dropped low, but I knew I had no power to stand against Adams now.

Adams rose from his chair, came around the desk, and stopped in front of me. "This isn't a question of what I want. It's something that has to be done. Now that you've taken your place in all this, don't imagine you can walk away with clean hands. Do you understand?"

I lifted my head to meet his eyes, my throat tightening. I wanted to argue with him, to hurl every ounce of anger and resistance in my heart into his face—but the words reached my lips and I swallowed them back down.

In the end, all I could force out was a single sentence. "...I understand."