The Mafia King's obsession

The Exit

Alexander POV

My phone rang at 6:47 PM.

I was still in my office. The city lights had started blinking on outside my window. The news article was still open on my tablet. The red numbers were still glowing on my screen.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

I looked at the caller ID weakly. My eyes were heavy from staring at screens. My head was pounding from the stress. My chest felt like someone had parked a truck on it.

Then I saw who it was.

Lara.

My eyes brightened. Just a little. Just enough to feel something other than drowning.

I answered.

"Hey."

"Alexander." Her voice was soft. Concerned. The kind of voice that had talked me down from a hundred bad days. "How are you doing? I saw the news."

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm not feeling down."

That was a lie. She probably knew it was a lie. But what was I supposed to say? I'm watching my family's legacy burn and I can't do anything to stop it?

"Let's have dinner," she said. "By eight. My place."

Eight. That gave me an hour and thirteen minutes.

"I'll be there."

She hung up. I sat there for a moment, holding the phone against my chest.

Lara.

We had been together for five years. Five years of mornings and nights. Five years of fights and make-ups. Five years of her understanding me in ways no one else ever had.

She was the only person who truly knew me. The only one who loved me with all her heart.

***

By the time I finished everything in the office, it was 8:30 PM.

Thirty minutes late. The day had swallowed me whole. More calls. More emails. More contractors wanting out. I signed papers until my hands cramped. I answered questions until my throat was hoarse.

I grabbed my jacket and walked out.

The parking garage was cold and empty. My driver was waiting by the black sedan, same as always. Same spot. Same patient expression.

"Penthouse, sir?"

"Penthouse."

I climbed into the back seat and rested my head against the window. The city blurred past. Lights smearing into lines. People living their lives while mine fell apart.

The drive took twenty minutes.

I didn't say a word.

---

The elevator opened into my penthouse.

The scent hit me first.

Lemon and pomegranate.

My favorite.

The candles were already lit. Soft orange glow flickering against the walls. The table was set for two. Wine glasses. White plates. A vase with fresh flowers in the middle.

She had done all of this. For me.

I stood there for a moment, breathing it in. The warmth. The care. The feeling of being loved.

Then I walked toward the dining area.

And I saw her.

She was standing by the table, bathed in candlelight. A deep blue short dress that glittered every time she moved. The fabric stuck to her skin like it was painted on, showing every curve. Every line. Every part of her that belonged to me for five years.

Her face was beautiful as always. High cheekbones. Full lips. Blue eyes that had looked at me a thousand different ways over the years.

Her long blonde hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head. Loose strands fell around her face. She looked like a goddess. Like something from a painting. Like she didn't belong in my crumbling world.

I was stunned.

I could never get enough of her beauty. Five years and my heart still skipped when I saw her. Five years and I still felt lucky.

I walked toward her slowly. My eyes traced every piece of her. The curve of her neck. The dip of her waist. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

When I was close enough, I placed my hand on her waist. I drew her closer. She didn't resist. She melted into me like she always did.

I kissed her.

Passionately. Hungrily. Like she was air and I was drowning.

She kissed me back with the same energy. Her hands went to my chest. Her fingers curled into my shirt. Her lips moved against mine like she meant it.

The kiss got deeper.

My hands began to roam. I traced my fingers on her thigh. Slow. Gentle. Moving up toward the hem of her gown.

I wanted her. I always wanted her. But tonight, after the day I had, I needed her. I needed to forget. I needed to feel something other than failure.

Then she broke the kiss.

She pulled back just far enough to look me in the eyes. Her breathing was heavy. Her lips were red from the kiss.

"Let's eat," she said.

I blinked.

"What?"

"Let's eat." She smiled, but something was off. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "I made your favorite."

I stared at her for a second. Puzzled.

She had never broken my kiss before. Never. Not once in five years. I was always the one to pull away. Always the one to say wait or later or we should stop.

But tonight, she stopped me.

I pushed the thought away. I was hungry. Tired. Probably overthinking.

So I sat down and ate.

---

Halfway through dinner, I noticed something.

She kept glancing at me.

Not the usual glances. Not the soft looks she gave me when she thought I wasn't watching. These were different. Faster. Sharper. Like she was building up to something.

I chewed my food slowly, watching her watch me.

She would look down at her plate. Then up at me. Then down again. Her fork moved food around without ever bringing it to her mouth.

I got uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She didn't answer right away. She kept moving that food around. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Lara."

She dropped her cutlery slowly. The metal clinked against the plate. She looked up at me with something in her eyes I had never seen before.

Resolution.

"Let's break up."

I laughed.

I actually laughed.

"You're joking," I said. "Come on. That's not funny."

She didn't respond.

She just sat there, looking at me. No smile. No laugh. No gotcha.

I looked at her confused. My heart started beating faster.

"Lara?" My voice changed. Softer. Scared. "What are you saying?"

She ignored my question. Her eyes drifted past me. Behind me. Fixing on something over my shoulder.

I turned around slowly.

There, by the door, were her bags.

Three suitcases. Packed. Zipped. Ready to go.

My stomach dropped.

She wasn't joking.

She stood up from the table. The chair scraped against the floor. She walked to her bags and grabbed the handle of the largest one. The wheels squeaked as she dragged it toward the door.

I shot up from my chair so fast it almost tipped over.

I ran.

I got to the door before she did. I stood in front of it, blocking her exit. My arms spread out. My chest heaving.

"What did I do wrong?" I asked.

She looked at me. Her eyes were dry. No tears. No sadness. Just... tired.

"I'm tired, Alexander."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have."

She shoved past me. Not hard. Just enough to move me out of the way. She opened the door and dragged her bags into the hallway.

I followed her.

"Lara."

She kept walking.

"LARA!"

She stopped. Her back was to me. Her blonde hair glowing under the hallway lights.

My voice came out low. Broken. I didn't even recognize it.

"Is it because of the company?"

She stood there for a long moment. The kind of moment that stretches forever. The kind of moment you know you'll remember for the rest of your life.

Then she turned her head. Just enough for me to see her profile.

"Alexander, I love you." Her voice was soft. Gentle. Like she was explaining something to a child. "But honestly, I don't want to suffer."

The words hit me hard like bullets.

"Try to fix yourself," she continued. "Fix your company. Fix your life. And then... maybe I'll come back."

She turned away.

The elevator doors opened.

She stepped inside with her bags.

The doors closed.

And she was gone.

---

I stood in the hallway for a long time.

Then I walked back inside. I closed the door. I looked at the dining table. The candles were still burning. The food was half-eaten. The wine was untouched.

Everything she had prepared.

Everything she had left behind.

My legs gave out.

I slid down against the door and sat on the floor. My back pressed against the wood she had just walked through. My hands hung limp at my sides.

I stared at the ceiling.

What did I do to deserve this?

The question echoed in my empty penthouse.

No one answered.

The woman who said she loved me walked out because I was failing.

And the worst part?

I couldn't even blame her.

My phone rang again, the same sound I keep on hearing all through today.

Can this day get any worse?

Oh how wrong I was, it really got worse.