Chapter 3
Allison spent the entire night packing
By dawn, she had filled four large suitcases.
She called in the house staff and had them carry the luggage out to the backyard.
Then, she threw the first custom sult she ever designed for Alexander straight into the incinerator. Flames licked up the fabric as she stood there, watching it burn.
As flames flickered to life, she began feeding the rest of his things into the fire–every love letter, every anniversary gift, every piece of their so–called life together.
When the last photo of them together curled into ash, she could almost see that fifteen–year–old boy–the one who once threw himself in front of a car to save her–disappear into the smoke.
The smoke stung her eyes.
She coughed violently into her sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears.
But this time, it wasn’t heartbreak.
It was release.
That crushing weight on her chest had finally lifted
All the things she once cherished… gone in a matter of minutes. Just like that.
Turns out, letting go of someone who never truly loved you is easier than she thought.
Allison wiped her tears and turned back toward the house.
She ran a hot bath, changed into pajamas, and finally allowed herself to sleep.
By the time she woke again, the sky outside had already turned golden with dusk.
Still groggy, she reached for her phone and instinctively opened her message thread with Alexander.
She paused.
Then chuckled bitterly to herself.
Some habits take time to break
After all these years he had never been the one to reach out first
Not once.
Setting the phone aside, she pulled on a robe and made her way downstairs. Her stomach rumbled from a full day of sleep.
But just as she stepped into the living room, the front door opened.
In walled Alexander–arm–in–arm with Sarah.
He was carrying shopping bags in both hands, his face relaxed until he saw Allison.
In that instant, his smile faltered and a flicker of annoyance passed over his expression.
Allison saw the change clearly. And yet, she didn’t react. She simply glanced at them and turned toward the kitchen.
Sarah’s voice rang out, sugary and sharp.
“Wow, Doesn’t seem like Miss Winters is very happy to see me.”
She turned to Alexander with mock offense. “Maybe I should just leave.‘
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He caught Sarah’s wrist before she could turn away, his gaze snapping to Allison with a trace of irritation. “Didn’t you ask her to keep me company? Why the sudden attitude?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Allison replied quietly.
Sarah pulled the classic pity–card. “This is your home, Alex. I’m just a questi fins if she doesn’t want me here. Let go of me
“Apologize to her,” Alexander said, his tone hardening
Allison blinked. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I apologize?”
“You upset her. That’s reason enough,” he snapped without hesitation.
The blatant favoritism stunned her.
Allison’s fingers curled slightly as her chest tightened.
Her mind flashed back to that charity gala months ago when the overly polished wife of a flashy new–money investor “accidentally” dumped red wine on her gown, then had the nerve to demand she apologize.
When Allison stood up for herself, the woman’s husband nearly got physical with her—and Alexander?
He stood off to the side, silent, unmoved, watching like it had nothing to do with him.
Back then, she thought he was just reserved someone who didn’t like to take sides in public.
Now she knew the truth.
He just didn’t want to defend her. Because the only one he’d ever defend…. was Sarah.
How could she have been so blind?
How could she ever have thought he loved her?
The silence stretched.
Alexander’s expression darkened. “Is the Winters Group not important to you anymore?”
That snapped her back.
She swallowed the rising bitterness and forced herself to speak “Miss Mayfield, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please… come in.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes, but smiled sweetly, “I’ll let it slide this time. Next time, I’m walking out.”
With that, she pranced into the living room and plopped down on the couch.
She started pulling designer pieces from the bags like trophies, casually tossing them around as she glanced toward Allison.
“I’ms
starving, Alex,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I want something cooled by Miss Winters herself.”
“She doesn’t know how to cook,” Alexander said flatly. “Let the staff handle it.”
“I don’t want the staff!” Sarah pouted, chucking a brand–new dress onto the floor like a tantrum–throwing toddler. “I want her!” Alexander didn’t even flinch.
He slipped an arm around her and stroked her hair gently. “Alright, alright. You win. What you want.”
Seafood.”
The turned to Allison. “Prepare seafood. If you don’t know how, ask the chef to teach you.”
Allison said nothing and walked into the kitchen.
Behind her, the sound of laughter drifted in from the living room, where Alexander and Sarah chatted animatedly about wedding gowns and ceremony plans,
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Alice spent two hours cooking – twelve different seafood dishes, each plated to perfection.
verything was dy, the sent a staff member to call them over.
The squinty at her seat and ladled herself a bowl of soup.
ately, the band sipped from her grasp
The red. wth plated areas her hand, searing the skinan ang
“Seat you” Alexander’s panicked voice rang out as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms.
Bacharid with fake conem didn’t mean to bump her. It was an accident.
Ased at the being burn on her hand, then locked at the man who hadn’t even glanced at her.
lambenderato be lowed–and who he didn’t.
Und eronen, Alon de rare.
den bitto tend to her burn.
We dentured the firing tile was a mess–completely cleaned out.
watcher.
taword.
