ALEXANDER SMITH
407 Words
The interior of the Mercedes-Benz was a sanctuary of silence, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the engine against the pavement. Alexander stared at his phone, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the edge of the screen. On the display, a live feed showed the interior of an apartment—Rose’s apartment. He watched her through the lens of a hidden camera, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and steady
"Mr. Smith," Henry's voice, barely audible over the purr of the car.
"Your father pressured Mira to join the family dinner. It seems he wants the whole family present tonight."
Alexander didn't look up from the screen.
"Hmm."He replied.
"I think Miss Rose will have to spend her anniversary alone this year," Henry said.
Henry added, his eyes meeting Alexander's in the rearview mirror.
The name—Rose—hung in the air like a sudden drop in temperature. Alexander’s movement stopped instantly. He lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Henry’s reflection. The air in the car thickened, charged with a sudden, sharp intensity that made even the unflappable Henry pause.
"One of our men spotted Kelvin picking up his 'ex' at the airport today,"
"Henry continued, his voice calm but purposeful.
"Should we send someone to inform Miss Rose?"
Alexander looked back down at the screen. He watched Rose, who was currently moving back and forth in her kitchen, completely unaware of the betrayal already in motion. He didn't look angry; he looked like a man watching a piece fall exactly where he had intended it to go.
"No need," Alexander replied, his voice low, smooth, and chillingly composed. "Just keep an eye on him. I want to know exactly how far he’s willing to go before he realizes he’s lost everything."
"Understood, sir," said Henry.
turning his eyes back to the road.
Alexander went back to watching the feed. He watched Rose pull a cake from the oven, a small, hopeful smile on her face. He knew that smile was about to vanish, and he knew exactly who would be there to catch her when it did. He leaned back against the plush leather seat, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern against the side of his phone.
The game was in motion. The trap was closing. And for the first time in a long time, Alexander felt a flicker of something close to satisfaction.
- Writer
