Chapter 4
1093 Words
The city had a rhythm of its own, one Emilia had come to trust. The clatter of cable cars up the steep hills, the smell of sourdough bread wafting from corner bakeries, the rush of footsteps at dusk as the financial district emptied. It was predictable, almost soothing.
Until it wasn’t.
The phone call lingered in her mind, replaying like a curse. You should stop asking questions about Alexander Cross.
She hadn’t told anyone about it. Not Sofia, not her parents, not even her therapist. Saying it aloud would make it too real, and Emilia had worked too hard to build stability for Daniel to let shadows creep back in.
But shadows had a way of finding her.
Two days later, Emilia found herself at a fundraising gala at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It wasn’t her usual scene—she preferred paint-splattered studios to champagne receptions—but one of her design clients had insisted she attend. It was good exposure, they said. Networking. Another step toward rebuilding her career.
She wore a sleek black gown that hugged her curves, her hair pinned in an elegant twist, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Daniel was safe at home with a sitter, and for once, Emilia let herself imagine she was just a woman at a party, not the abandoned bride of a vanished billionaire.
Sofia, of course, was in attendance; she thrived in these settings. She flitted through the crowd like a queen bee, introducing Emilia to collectors, dropping clever remarks that earned laughter and admiring glances. Emilia managed polite smiles, sipping her champagne, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Then, across the room, she saw him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark suit tailored to perfection. The crowd seemed to part around him, as though even strangers recognised his gravity.
Alexander Cross.
The glass nearly slipped from her fingers. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the music, the chatter, and everything except the sight of him—alive, real, and impossibly unchanged. His hair was a touch longer, his jawline sharper, but those blue eyes… they were the same. The eyes she’d once drowned in. The eyes Daniel had inherited.
Her knees threatened to give out. After three years of silence, of agony, of questions with no answers—he was here.
“Emi?” Sofia’s voice was low and urgent. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I think I have.”
Alexander’s gaze swept the room, and then it found her. For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His expression flickered—recognition, shock, and something darker, something like betrayal.
Before she could move, before she could even think, he turned and walked out.
Emilia’s body moved before her mind caught up. She shoved her glass into Sofia’s hands and pushed through the crowd, her gown tangling at her feet, her heels clicking furiously against marble.
“Emi! Wait!” Sofia called, but Emilia was already outside, into the crisp night air, the hum of the city alive around her.
Alexander strode down the museum steps, his pace long and purposeful, but she wasn’t about to let him vanish again.
“Alexander! Stop right there!” Her voice cracked through the night.
He froze. Slowly, he turned.
The streetlamps threw shadows across his face, but there was no mistaking him. His presence filled the night as surely as it once filled her world.
“Emilia.” His voice was low and rough, like gravel dragged across velvet.
Her chest heaved. “Three years. Three years, Alex. And not a word. Not a single explanation. Do you know what you did to me? To us? You abandoned me on our wedding day and made me a laughingstock for years.”
His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
The words hit like a slap. “Excuse me? This is my city. My home. I’m raising our son here.”
For the first time, something broke through his composure—shock, sharp and undeniable. His eyes widened, his breath stilled. “Our… son?”
Emilia’s heart pounded. The words had slipped out, the truth bursting free after years of silence. She lifted her chin, refusing to back down. “Daniel. He’s three years old. He has your eyes.”
The night seemed to close around them. Alexander’s expression shifted, a storm of emotions warring behind his gaze—disbelief, fury, grief, and longing.
“You should have told me, did you know before the wedding day?” he said hoarsely.
Her laugh was bitter. “Told you? You disappeared, Alex! You left me at the altar without a single word, without a trace. You let me drown in scandal, in pity, in heartbreak. And now you dare to stand here and act betrayed?”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, but she didn’t flinch. His scent—clean, woodsy, achingly familiar—threatened to undo her, but she forced her spine straight.
“I never chose to leave you,” Alexander said, his voice breaking on the words. “I was forced.”
Her breath caught. “Forced? By whom? Why?”
He shook his head, his gaze darting to the street, the shadows, as though unseen eyes were watching. “It’s complicated. Dangerous. I can’t explain here.”
“Then make me understand,” Emilia demanded, her voice trembling with anger and desperation. “Because, for three years, I’ve lived with nothing but questions. You never tried to contact me. And now my son deserves answers.”
He swallowed hard, pain etched into every line of his face. “Emi… I can’t stay. Not tonight. Not yet. But know this—I never stopped loving you.”
Her heart lurched, traitorous and aching. She wanted to believe him. Gosh, she wanted to believe him.
But before she could respond, a black car pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and a man in a dark suit motioned urgently.
Alexander’s eyes locked with hers, blue and unyielding. “Take care of Daniel. Protect him.”
And then he was gone—slipping into the car, swallowed by the night, leaving Emilia standing on the museum steps, trembling with rage and heartbreak all over again.
This time, though, there was no confusion. No naivety.
This time, she knew—Alexander hadn’t simply abandoned her. He was tangled in something bigger, darker, and far more sinister.
And whatever it was, it seemed to be far from over.
- Writer
