Alex’s POV.
I sat in my office, my eyes locked on the city skyline through the window, but my mind was entirely focused on Christiana and the kids. She’d refused to stay with me, no matter how many times I asked. And I understood her reasons. After all, the last time we were together, Bianca almost succeeded in destroying her life. But understanding didn’t make it any easier to stand back, helpless, watching from a distance.
“James,” I called, leaning back in my chair, “are our men in position at Christiana’s hotel?”
James, my assistant, nodded, his face calm but alert. “Yes, sir. They’re stationed far enough away that she won’t notice but close enough to act if anything seems wrong.”
“Good. I don’t care if she already has bodyguards; we can’t afford any mistakes this time. Not after…everything.” The memory of her being taken, tortured, and nearly killed was something that had burned itself into my mind. I could still remember that hollow, panicked feeling, the moments I spent wondering if she was even alive.
“Understood, sir,” James replied, his voice steady. “And, about Bianca Monroe Lewis,” he continued cautiously, “our team reports that she’s keeping a low profile. Since her release, there’s been no indication of any suspicious behavior.”
I nodded, but it didn’t ease my mind. Bianca might look like she was living a quiet life, but I didn’t believe it for a second. She was dangerous, calculating, and ruthless. And if she thought she could get away with it, she would try to harm Christiana again. “I want updates on her every move. Any minor change in her routine–I want to know.”
James nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure of it.”
I looked back out the window, watching the city lights flickering against the approaching night. Protecting Christiana and the kids wasn’t a choice; it was an instinct, something I had to do. Knowing they were vulnerable out there without me made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, constantly waiting for the ground to slip.
“Mr. Alistair,” James’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned, my eyes sharpening at the concern in his tone.
“Yes?”
“There’s…someone here to see you. He wasn’t on the schedule,” James said, his expression shifting from steady professionalism to mild unease. He opened the door wider, stepping aside as a figure moved into view.
The man was standing in the doorway, ragged and worn, as if he’d been dragged through hell and barely made it out. His clothes were torn, his hair was unkempt, and a rough beard shadowed his face. Despite the layers of exhaustion and grime, there was something familiar in the way he stood, in the haunted look in his eyes.
I felt my breath catch in my throat, a mixture of shock and disbelief tightening my chest. It couldn’t be. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
“Sebastian…Is that really you?” I murmured, feeling the weight of the moment
settle heavily around us.
