Chapter 3
1656 Words
"You must tell my father and the others that you’re the one seeking the divorce,”
she added, her tone flat.
“Not me.”
Alexander’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “Why should I comply? I’ve spent years being mistreated in this family. And why a divorce now, Maya? What changed?”
Her expression didn’t waver. Didn’t even twitch. “Because I want out. Out of this marriage. Out of this family. And as for our child…”
His chest tightened, breath caught. “What about our child?”
Her words hit him like a bullet. “I had it terminated today. And you’ll do as I say. You’ll tell them you want the divorce.”
Alexander staggered back a step, disbelief and fury coiling inside him. “You… you did that? Without telling me?”
Maya didn’t look back. She walked away as though he were air. “I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to do as I say.”
Around him, the world continued. People called her name, laughed, and moved.
Oblivious.
And Alexander stood there, frozen, the weight of betrayal crushing him, his life fracturing in ways no apology could ever repair.
He returned to his car, heart hammering. The city lights blurred past as he pulled out the folder Ethan had given him earlier. The Singaporean paper company. The money he could finally use to carve a name for himself, far from the Blackwood shadow.
Engine roaring to life, he sped toward the office. Tonight’s party was dead to him.
There would be no celebration, no feigned loyalty.
But as he arrived, reality hit harder than any betrayal could.
Lights flashed. Black SUVs. Police vans. Prosecutors everywhere, moving like a coordinated army.
His pulse skipped. They had expected him to move tonight, sure. But this soon?
Alexander stepped out, calm, scanning. All devices had been swapped, tracks wiped.
He should have nothing to fear. Yet…
One of the prosecutors, a woman with ice in her stare, stepped forward. “Alexander Vale, step aside.”
He stopped mid-step, pulse tightening.
“What’s this about?”
“You’re under arrest for money laundering and embezzlement of funds,” she said, voice firm, unwavering.
Alexander’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. The police and prosecutors were everywhere, their faces set, determined. And suddenly, he realized—this wasn’t about the company. They weren’t here for business. They were here for him.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the prosecutor commanded.
“You are under arrest for money laundering and embezzlement.”
Alexander’s mind raced. Questions tore through him like wildfire. Why now? How did they find me? Who set this up?
The police tightened the perimeter, eyes unblinking. Escape was impossible.
Slowly, deliberately, Alexander turned.
Fingers brushing cold metal, he felt the handcuffs snap around his wrists. The weight of them pressed against his skin.
As he was read his rights, his mind flashed to Ethan’s words: “You can take the money, erase it like it never happened.” But now… betrayal gnawed at him. Had Ethan engineered this? The Singapore paper company, the files, the promise—it had all been a trap.
Alexander’s heart thudded as he realized the gravity of the situation. Innocent or not, the law didn’t care. Proving Ethan’s role from behind bars would be nearly impossible.
The cell was dim, silent except for the echoes of footsteps. Two men were led in—thick-set, heavily tattooed, the kind of men you didn’t want to cross. Their eyes flicked toward him briefly before returning to the corners, like predators marking territory. Alexander instinctively shifted closer to the wall, watching, calculating.
Minutes stretched, the night pressing in. The two men fished out a crumpled piece of paper, scribbled notes smoothed under the dim light. Alexander stayed still, letting exhaustion wash over him, willing to sleep to keep his mind sharp.
And then the pain hit—sharp, unexpected. A jolt in his back, hands gripping him from behind. He fought instinctively, but the men were too strong. One pulled a makeshift blade. Pain exploded, relentless, sharp and fiery.
His vision blurred. Every stab, every strike, seemed to carry more than physical agony—it was betrayal, humiliation. Thoughts of Ethan’s deception surged. ‘I trusted him. I worked for him. I gave him everything.’
Alexander’s body shook. Arms heavy, lungs burning, but his mind refused to yield. Anger flared, raw and desperate. He wouldn’t go quietly. Revenge, he promised himself. If he survived this, he would make Ethan pay. Every slight, every deceit—he would settle the score.
Darkness swirled, consciousness fading, and in that abyss, a voice cut through—a gravelly, commanding presence.
“Alexander Vale.”
His eyes snapped open or what felt like opening. Surroundings were gone, replaced by darkness, infinite and oppressive. A figure loomed, impossibly tall, shadowed.
“Who are you?” Alexander demanded, voice hoarse, trembling. “Where am I?”
“Answer me,” the figure said, voice low and gravelly. “If you were given a second chance… would you take revenge on the Blackwoods?”
Alexander hesitated. Rage warred with exhaustion. Pain and betrayal clawed at him. Yes, a part of him whispered. Yes, I would.
“Why are you asking me this?” he deflected, unsure if this was reality or some cruel hallucination.
The figure didn’t respond. Silence pressed down, thick, suffocating. Alexander understood—he was being tested.
“Fine,” he whispered. “Yes. I would take revenge.”
The figure nodded, absorbing the light around him, becoming a shadow that seemed to devour the space. “Very well, Alexander Vale. You will have your second chance. But this time… no mistakes. Cunning, intelligence, ruthlessness. Revenge will not be easy.”
Light erupted, searing and blinding, piercing through his eyelids. Alexander tried to shield himself, but his body was unresponsive. The world fractured into brilliance.
And then—darkness again.
A hand shook him firmly. “Karan! Wake up! We don’t have much time!”
Alexander’s eyes fluttered open. Panic and disbelief collided as he realized the hand was real but too small. He sat up, gasping, heart racing.
And there he saw him.
A familiar face or at least, a face that shouldn’t exist. His eyes widened, disbelief rooting him in place. Alpha Orion Blackwood. The founder of the Blackwood Group. He died 15years ago. Yet here he was, smiling, calm, and calling him…
“Karan.”
Alexander froze.
“Wh-what’s going on?” he stammered, voice trembling, trying to make sense of the impossibility.
Alexander’s eyes widened as he recognized the sharp, commanding features of Alpha Orion Blackwood.
“Ah… Karan,” Orion said, tapping a finger to the rhythm of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ playing softly from the car stereo. The old Journey track seemed almost absurdly out of place. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. There’s a lot you need to catch up on.”
Alexander swallowed, panic clawing at his chest. He looked up into the rearview mirror. The reflection staring back was that of a young boy—innocent, small, vulnerable. His mind spun faster than he could think. This… this can’t be real.
Orion glanced at him, his casual tap of the fingers slowing as his eyes narrowed. “Karan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Alexander’s chest tightened. Karan isn’t me. This isn’t me. The words screamed in his head. Fear, confusion, anger—it all collided into a hot, sickening knot. He was trapped in a child’s body.
“How… what… how is this possible?” Alexander whispered, voice small, fragile.
Alexander Vale’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His thoughts collided in chaos. This can’t be real. It’s impossible.
Outside the sleek black 1988 Mercedes-Benz 560SEL, the streets say another era. Old buildings, boxy cars, people in shoulder-padded suits and high-waisted skirts. Alexander’s gaze locked on a newspaper stand. November 1984. Reagan had won. His stomach churned. He had been thrown decades into the past—and into a child’s body.
“Stay calm,” Orion Blackwood’s voice cut through his panic, calm but commanding.
“We’re almost there. Focus.”
Alexander’s chest tightened. Focus? How can I focus when I don’t even know who I am? His hands were tiny, pale, trembling.
He looked in the rearview mirror. A boy’s face stared back at him, not Alexander Vale. Not the man who had clawed his way through betrayals, lawsuits, and blood ties.
The car stopped abruptly. Guards rushed to open the doors. Alexander felt the ground under his small shoes for the first time, unsteady, his legs weak. Outside, a sea of well-dressed men and women buzzed with anticipation. Tuxedos, pearls, bow ties, pocket watches—opulence so overwhelming it made him reel.
“Come along, Karan,” Orion said, sliding a hand over his shoulder. “We don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.”
Alexander froze, caught between terror and disbelief. Karan? His mind flared. Orion led him through the crowd.
Alexander’s eyes darted, scanning faces, recognizing echoes of people he knew decades later. Young Alpha Kael sat at the center, regal, confident. Alpha Phoenix and Alpha Ryker, vibrant in their mid-twenties. Beta Lila, radiant, speaking with poise. They were all alive, youthful, untarnished.
Orion’s voice boomed over the chatter as he stepped forward, commanding attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight marks the beginning of Blackwood Enterprises—built on vision, legacy, and relentless ambition!”
Alexander’s pulse raced. I’m inside Karan’s life.
A flash of memory struck Alexander.
Karan was the last son of the Blackhood second generation.
There were no photos of him after his death. No official record. No obituary. His death had been scrubbed clean. The Blackhoods had erased him from memory, leaving nothing but empty space in the history of the family.
- Writer
