Alec smiled, but it wasn’t the kind that reached the eyes—it was cold, sharp, and dangerous. He stepped closer to Melissa, voice dropping into a low, calculated murmur.
“You know what the problem is, wife?” he said, eyes glinting with something far darker than amusement. “Every person outside this mansion wants to be Alec Blackwood. They wear suits, flash wealth, speak with power—and think that’s enough. But if being Alec were that easy, then every other man out there would be me.”
He placed a hand on his chest, fingers curling into a fist. “What they don’t see is the volcano inside me. The fire that never dies. The rage that forged me. Outside, I shimmer… inside, I burn. And it’s that fire—this blazing hell within—that moulded me into who I am.”
He leaned in, his smile widening. “This
