Chapter 339

Thud!

Isabella stumbled, her arms flailing wildly as her designer handbag went flying. With a look of dismay, she landed hard on her back.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

She sat there on the ground, tears welling in her eyes from the pain, her lips trembling.

Any decent man would have helped a woman like her—especially if they were the one who caused the fall.

But Alexander barely spared her a glance. With a swift stride, he disappeared from her sight.

At that moment, Daniel also rushed over.

He glanced at Isabella, who was now in a pitiful state, then followed Alexander without hesitation.

In just a few seconds, Isabella began questioning her usually unshakable confidence in her beauty.

"Isabella? What are you doing on the ground? You look ridiculous!"

Harrison had just stepped out for a smoke and frowned at his daughter's predicament.

"Dad! You see your own daughter fall and don't even help? Instead, you mock me?"

Isabella used the coffee table to pull herself up. Her ankle was swollen, and her Maison de Valois heels were broken. Angrily, she kicked the ruined shoe away.

"I bumped into Mr. Kingsley. If it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But I don’t know why he was in such a hurry." She sat on the sofa, wincing from the pain.

She had hoped tonight would leave a lasting impression on Alexander. Instead, it was a disaster. Frustration brought her to the brink of tears.

Harrison noticed the urgency in Alexander’s departure, his expression darkening.

In the underground parking lot.

"Mr. Kingsley! Where are you going? What’s happening?"

Daniel, sweating profusely, followed Alexander, his voice trembling with anxiety.

"Seraphina is in trouble. I need to find her—now." Alexander’s voice was ice, his jawline sharp with tension.

The veins on his hand stood out as he yanked open the door of his sports car. His storm-dark eyes burned with barely contained fury.

"I’ll come with you! Backup is always good!"

"No. You drive too slow. Stay here and handle any fallout."

The engine roared to life. Like an arrow released, the car shot out of the parking lot.

Daniel watched the dust settle in its wake, his heart heavy with worry.

"Mrs. Kingsley has to be okay. Mr. Kingsley, bring her back safe."

The sleek Lamborghini tore through the streets of New York like lightning.

"Seraphina, I’m coming. You have to be okay. You have to be."

Alexander’s forehead was creased, his heart pounding as he pressed the accelerator to the floor.

On the passenger seat, his phone displayed a blurry, obviously sneaky photo.

In it, Seraphina was held by a stranger in a suit. Her hair cascaded like silk, her eyes smoky and seductive, lips parted in a way that made his blood boil.

Who was this man?

Was she drunk?

No. Seraphina never drank with strangers. The only times she’d been intoxicated were with her brothers.

Drugged?

The thought sent a sharp pain through his chest. His grip on the wheel turned his knuckles white.

At a hotel in the West District.

Alexander’s suit was damp with sweat. The moment he stepped into the lobby, his phone buzzed.

An anonymous call.

"Hello." His voice was low, rough with tension.

"Mr. Kingsley. Room 2051, twentieth floor."

A strange male voice spoke, cold and detached. "The key card is in the plant pot by the staircase. If you want to save Ms. Seraphina, hurry. If you’re late… well, you’ll regret it."

Alexander moved forward, then paused. "Who are you? Did you send the photo?"

The man confirmed.

"Are you a paparazzo? Or working for someone? How do you have the key?" Alexander demanded, sharp.

"Good questions. But I can’t answer them. Just know—I have my reasons."

Something felt off. But with Seraphina’s safety at stake, he didn’t have time to think.

He took the elevator to the twentieth floor. The key card was exactly where the caller said.

As he approached the door, his pulse hammered in his throat.

The entire way, his mind had raced through every possible scenario.

None of them good.

Beep.

The door unlocked.

Alexander stepped inside, his throat tight.

The room was dim, silent. The faint scent of flowers lingered in the air.

But there was no chaos. No scene he couldn’t bear to witness.

"Seraphina?"

His voice was hoarse.

No answer.

Heart pounding, he moved toward the bedroom.

Then—a rustling sound.

His blood ran cold.

"Seraphina!"

He threw the door open.

A scream pierced the darkness.

And there, standing before him—completely naked—was Victoria.

Her porcelain skin glistened under the soft light, her long hair draped over her chest. She trembled, the picture of vulnerability.

But her eyes?

They held a glint of triumph.

Alexander recoiled, turning away instantly. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked.

The realization hit him like a truck.

He’d been played.

"Alexander… how did you get in here?" Victoria’s voice was soft, trembling. "Did you… see everything?"

"Get dressed." His voice was steel.

"I—I’ll call my brother. He’ll take you home."

He moved to leave.

"Alexander! Don’t go!"

Victoria lunged, pressing her naked body against his back. Her arms locked around him like a vice.

"I’ve never had a boyfriend. My body is untouched. Now that you’ve seen me… you have to take responsibility!"

"Responsibility?" Alexander’s laugh was ice. "The only woman I’m responsible for is Seraphina."

He wrenched free, sending Victoria sprawling onto the bed.

Before she could react, he was already at the door.

"Alexander! You’re really going to ignore me? Why?!"

Victoria pounded the mattress, her hair wild, her expression twisted with rage.

Alexander didn’t look back.

He yanked the door open—

And was immediately blinded by camera flashes.

A crowd of journalists blocked the exit, snapping photos furiously.

Alexander’s breath froze. His face went pale.

Now he understood.

This had been a trap from the start.

One designed to exploit his love for Seraphina.

"Alexander! Oh my God—why are there so many reporters?!"

Victoria’s shrill voice cut through the chaos.

She stood in the doorway, barely covered by a towel, playing the perfect damsel in distress.

"Is that Victoria Sterling?!"

"It is her! Front-page material, boys!"

"Alexander Kingsley and Victoria Sterling caught in a hotel room—half-naked! This is gold!"

Victoria clung to Alexander, her eyes wide with fake fear.

Alexander’s expression was stone.

"Mr. Kingsley! Are you and Miss Sterling involved?"

"Come on, admit it! Nothing to be ashamed of!"

"Miss Sterling! Care to explain?"

Alexander’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Get. Out."

The reporters flinched.

But the damage was already done.