Chapter 11

Every night, he sat by the window of his room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with dread, hollow eyes. He had called every contact Lindsey had—her college friends, old professors, even distant relatives he barely remembered. None of them knew where she was. Or if they did, they weren’t saying a word.

Even his own staff—particularly his butler, whom he once trusted to know everything—had come back empty-handed. “It’s as if she vanished, sir,” he had said. “There’s no trace. Not even a purchase or a booking in her name.”

Alex didn’t want to say it out loud, but it was becoming clear. Someone was helping her.

Someone with money. Access, power.

And worse—someone who was doing a damn good job of keeping her away from him.

At night, the weight of it all became unbearable. He turned to alcohol, whiskey mostly, numbing himself just enough to shut down the questions in his head. He didn’t want to care. He shouldn’t care. Lindsey left. She signed the papers. She gave up.

But no matter how much he drank, her voice still rang in his ears. Her laugh. The way she used to call his name with affection, not bitterness.

And now, silence.

No soft footsteps padding across the floor as she brought him his tea, just how he liked it—two sugars, no lemon. No gentle voice reminding him to take off his tie before falling asleep on the couch. No quiet hum from the kitchen where she’d prepare late-night snacks, even if she was tired from the day. She always waited up for him, no matter how late, no matter how many dinners he missed. Sometimes, she’d drape a blanket over him while he worked late at his desk, pressing a kiss to his temple before slipping away.

He remembered the scent of lavender from her nightgown, the faint warmth of her body curled beside him, the way she whispered, “Goodnight, love,” even if he didn’t respond.

Now the house was cold. The bed was empty. And the silence was deafening.

Sasha, meanwhile, had reached her limit.

It was the fourth day in a row that Alex had missed another appointment—the wedding planner, the florist, the photographer—all left hanging because he didn’t show. He hadn’t even bothered to cancel.

Furious, Sasha marched into the penthouse they were supposed to share, slamming her purse on the table.

“You weren’t at the venue,” she snapped. “Again.”

Alex barely looked up from the couch. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled of liquor.

“I told you,” he muttered, “I couldn’t go. My mother’s still watching. After what happened with Lindsey…”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “Is that the only reason, Alex? Or is there something else you’re not admitting?”

He stood, slowly, like he had aged ten years in a week.

“That is the reason. I need the inheritance. If my mother thinks I betrayed Lindsey, she’ll cut me off, and we both know you’re not marrying me for my charming personality.”

Sasha’s jaw clenched, but before she could respond, he crossed the space between them and kissed her—hard.

She stiffened, but he was already pulling her close, his hands moving with practiced ease. It was rushed, rough, more about distraction than desire. She gave in, eventually, letting herself fall into him.

But as they lay in the aftermath, tangled on the couch, Sasha stared at the ceiling and knew.

He was thinking about Lindsey.

Later that night, Sasha met up with Paula at a trendy rooftop bar in the city.

The two of them sat in a private booth, drinks in hand, laughter loud and slightly unhinged from too many cocktails.

“I still can’t believe it,” Sasha said, slurring slightly. “She actually left him.”

Paula rolled her eyes. “Oh please. She was too good for this world. Always baking and bringing soup for my mom and acting like a saint. Ugh. It was exhausting.”

Sasha laughed. “Well, she’s gone now. Good riddance.”

Paula smirked. “Thanks to us.”

They clinked their glasses together.

“Do you remember the time we made sure she saw that text I sent Alex?” Sasha added, giggling. “That fake ‘miss you last night’ thing?”

“She cried in the kitchen for an hour,” Paula said proudly.

“I almost felt bad. Almost.”

They both laughed again. Too loud. Too cruel.

“She should’ve known her place,” Sasha said, taking another sip. “Alex was mine long before she came around. I don’t care how nice she acted. We made sure she’d feel out of place.”

Paula leaned back. “And we succeeded. She’s probably halfway across the world now. Hopefully, she stays there.”

They didn’t notice the shadow that had entered the bar minutes earlier. Or the figure that now stood behind their booth, arms crossed, rage trembling through every inch of him.

Alex’s voice came like a thunderclap.

“You bitch.”

The two women froze. Slowly, they turned.

Alex stood there, eyes dark with fury, his expression unreadable—but dangerous.

“You’re the reason she left me?” he growled, pointing a shaking finger at Sasha. “You did this to her?”

“Alex—wait—” Sasha stood, reaching for him.

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, voice loud enough to make nearby heads turn. “You sabotaged her life? You manipulated her? You and Paula pushed her away like she was some obstacle?!”

“She was—” Paula tried.

“Shut up!” Alex’s voice cracked. “You two ruined her. You took her from me.”

Sasha paled, realizing for the first time that whatever hold she had on him… was gone.

“You lied to me,” Alex continued, breathing heavily. “You pretended to love me. You made me believe Lindsey was the problem. But all along, it was you. I used to wonder how she could just leave—how she could give up after everything. But now I see.”

He shook his head.

“She didn’t give up. She escaped.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the bar, leaving Sasha speechless and Paula stunned.