Bonds of the Alpha Billionaire (Maia and Alex) novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111 

-Alex’s POV- 

My gaze locked onto him, unwavering. It felt like an eternity, my vision boring into his. Years of pent–up questions swirled within me, a relentless storm demanding answers. Why? Why did he have to take her away? There was no justification, no explanation that could erase the gaping hole her absence had ripped in my life. He’d murdered her in a fit of rage, his temper a monstrous beast that had devoured the one person who loved me unconditionally. 

I stood there, the weight of that moment heavy on my shoulders. The urge to end his pathetic existence was a tangible presence, a tempting whisper in the back of my mind. Death, however, felt like a kindness he didn’t deserve. He needed to suffer, to drown in the guilt of his 

actions. 

With a final, steely glance, I turned on my heel and walked away. Silence followed in my wake, a deafening echo of the hollowness within me. He was dead to me in that moment, his existence erased from my consciousness. 

The world blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as I drove, my mind a chaotic mess. There was no destination in sight, only the desperate need to escape the suffocating weight of everything that had happened. The car rolled on autopilot, my senses numb, until I found myself staring at the imposing glass and steel edifying that housed Daniel Stone’s company. 

Stepping out of the car, a strange stillness hung in the air. Every head in the vicinity swiveled towards me, a silent symphony of surprised murmurs. The receptionist, a woman with a perfectly manicured smile, started to open her mouth, but a single icy glare from me slammed it shut faster than a slammed door. 

Without a word, I pushed past her and stormed into Daniel’s office. He sat behind his expansive desk, his big frame filling the space with an air of arrogant entitlement. His eyes narrowed in surprise at my arrival, the initial shock morphing into a smug smirk that stretched across his 

face. 

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?” 

Lignored the barb in his tone, the mockery dripping from his every word. “This,” I spat, my voice tight with barely contained fury, “this war between us. It needs to end,” 

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face widening further. “Is that so?” he chuckled, a humorless sound, “And what makes you say that 

now?” 

I took a step forward, my voice a low growl. “Whatever it takes,” I pressed, my words clipped. “Tell me what it will take to end this bloodshed. Because I’m done with it.” 

A harsh laugh erupted from his throat, a hollow sound devoid of any genuine humor. “Finally decided you’re weak, have you? Come crawling back to grovel?” 

My wolf snarled, a surge of primal rage threatening to break through the fragile control I held. But I forced myself to remain calm, to push down the urge to rip his throat out. “What will it take?” I repeated, my voice steady despite the irritation running through me. 

We locked eyes, a silent battle of wills unfolding. The tension in the room crackled, thick enough to cut with a knife. My mind wandered, a memory from my childhood surfacing. My father’s words echoed in the recesses of my thoughts, each one a shard of ice piercing the haze of 

anger. 

It was him. He had been the source of all my problems from the very beginning. If he had just allowed me a normal childhood, the unconditional love of my mother by my side, I wouldn’t be this way. Trust wouldn’t be a foreign concept, a constant battle fought within 

Chapter 111 

myself. Amaya wouldn’t be gone, my relationship with Adrian wouldn’t be fractured beyond repair. 

I saw it all with a horrifying clarity. 

I was the reason everything had fallen apart. And while the truth was a bitter pill to swallow, I couldn’t escape the fact that my father had been the puppeteer, his twisted teachings still holding a twisted grip on me but I wasn’t here to grovel. I was here to try to make things right. If only this infuriating, arrogant asshole wouldn’t turn everything into a power struggle. 

The hatred for Daniel Stone burned as fiercely as ever. He and my father were two sides of the same coin, a horrifying thought that made me clench my fists. But for now, I had to play his game. 

His voice snapped me out of my introspective spiral. “And what made you finally accept,” he drawled, the mockery dripping from his every word, “that you were never going to win this?” 

His words were like a slap in the face, irritation flaring hot within me. He wasn’t even listening, wasn’t processing what I was saying. All he cared about was this pathetic power struggle, this need to be the one standing over a defeated enemy. Fine. If that’s the game he wanted to play, then I’d play it better than him. 

With a calculated exhale, I released the tension in my shoulders, the facade of barely contained fury replaced by a studied nonchalance. Glancing around his office, I spotted a glass cabinet tucked away in a corner, housing a collection of expensive–looking bottles. A slow, deliberate smile played on my lips as I strolled towards it, the silence in the room thick with unspoken challerige. 

He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling from his chest, but I ignored him completely. Reaching for the cabinet door, I swung it open, the clink of crystal against glass echoing in the tense atmosphere. My fingers brushed against a bottle of amber liquid, the label boasting an aged vintage. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. 

Perfect. 

Picking up the bottle, I grabbed two crystal glasses from the shelf, their weight surprisingly light in my hand. As I turned back towards him, I could practically feel the heat of his glare burning into my back. But I held his gaze in a silent mirror, my movements slow and deliberate. 

Placing the bottle and glasses on his pristine desk with a soft thud, I watched his reaction. His jaw clenched, the vein in his temple throbbing. with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. 

I feigned nonchalance again, raising my eyebrows in mock surprise. “Just getting us a drink,” I replied, my voice dripping with a feigned casualness. Reaching down, I picked up one of the glasses and began to pour the amber liquid, the smooth motion a stark contrast to the simmering tension in the room. 

“You know,” I continued, my voice a low murmur as I filled the glass to the brim, “you and I have never actually shared a drink. Seems strange, considering I was married to your daughter after all.”