Chapter 47

The Sapphire Nights Club pulsed with life, its neon lights casting an electric glow over the sleek, modern interior. Owned by Lucas Grant, the exclusive venue was a playground for the elite.

Tonight, Alexander Kingsley was in a rare mood—dark and brooding. He needed a drink, and he needed it now.

Lucas himself arrived to pick him up. It wasn’t often Alexander sought his company like this.

"You make me feel like your secret mistress," Lucas teased, leaning in close.

To the world, Lucas was untouchable—a man of power and influence. But around Alexander, he was just an old friend who talked too much.

"I’ve never groveled for a woman’s attention," Lucas continued dramatically. "But for you? I’m like some desperate lover waiting by the phone. It’s pathetic!"

Alexander arched a brow. "Never groveled? What about Vanessa Wright?"

Lucas groaned. "That was a one-time weakness! Vanessa is… exceptional."

Alexander’s jaw tightened. He swallowed back the urge to snap at him.

Just then, two stunning foreign women sauntered past, one flashing Lucas a sultry smile.

"Now that’s beauty," Lucas murmured, eyes tracking them.

Alexander barely glanced their way. "Not as striking as her."

Lucas froze. "Her? You mean your ex-wife?" He gasped. "Alexander Kingsley, are you telling me you’ve actually fallen for Isabella Sinclair? I thought it was just a contract marriage! Or—wait—" He smirked. "Spending all that time with a woman like her… feelings were bound to happen, huh?"

Alexander stiffened, his fingers tightening around his whiskey glass.

He had seen her bare skin. He had touched her.

Even now, his fingertips tingled with the memory of her softness.

"I didn’t touch her," he muttered, then downed his drink.

Impossible. He couldn’t have feelings for her. Not like that.

After a few more rounds, Lucas leaned in. "Alexander, I need to ask you something. It’s been bothering me."

"Go ahead."

"Why Evelyn Prescott? Why her?"

Lucas slung an arm around Alexander’s shoulders. "You saw how those women treated Isabella today. If Margaret hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve torn her apart. Doesn’t that bother you?"

Alexander’s expression darkened. Memories surfaced—painful ones.

"My mother jumped from a building," he said quietly. "Depression. Frederic’s cruelty. The whispers. I wanted to die with her. I tried."

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged scar.

Lucas inhaled sharply.

"Evelyn found me. Saved me. She was the only one who cared. Brought me sweets, invited me over, shared her toys. She was my light when everything was dark. I promised her. And I keep my promises."

Lucas sighed. "People change, Alexander. The Evelyn you knew might not exist anymore. What if she’s nothing like the girl you remember? Will you still choose her?"

Alexander fastened his watch, his frown deepening.

Isabella’s tear-filled eyes flashed in his mind.

His chest tightened. He took another drink.

"You’re stubborn," Lucas muttered. "The only woman who matters more to you than Evelyn is Natalia Petrov. The one you’ve been searching for all these years."

At the mention of Natalia, Alexander’s gaze sharpened. "Any news?"

Lucas shook his head. "The trail’s cold. You never even saw her face clearly. It’s like she vanished."

Alexander’s hope dimmed. Five years. Five years of searching for the girl who dragged him to safety on the Zenithian battlefield.

"If I find her," he said quietly, "I’ll repay her. Whatever she asks."

Lucas smirked. "What if she asks for you?"

"Gratitude isn’t love," Alexander said flatly.

"Good. At least you know the difference."

By the time they left, their driver was waiting.

"One more thing," Alexander said abruptly.

Lucas yawned. "What?"

"Why did Isabella admit to it? Why didn’t she defend herself?"

Lucas shrugged. "Maybe she just doesn’t care anymore."

Alexander’s grip on the car door turned his knuckles white. "Doesn’t care about what?"

"You’re divorced. Why would she care what you think? Or the Abernathys? Maybe she’s just done." Lucas climbed into his car. "If I were her, I’d have slapped you by now."

The door shut.

Alexander stood there, breath trapped in his lungs like a vise.