Alexander grabbed his coat and allowed Raphael to lead him outside.
Behind them, Michael stayed behind to deal with the chaos that had erupted in the private room.
The cold night air hit Alexander’s face as they stepped out of the building.
"What the hell was that, Alexander?" Raphael demanded.
Alexander didn’t answer.
He simply continued walking toward the car.
Raphael frowned but followed.
The moment they got inside, Raphael started the engine but didn’t drive off immediately.
He glanced at Alexander.
Alexander’s eyes were closed, his head resting against the seat. His injured hand lay against the door, dried blood visible across his knuckles.
For a moment, he looked less like the powerful Alexander Blackwood and more like a man who had completely run out of strength.
"Alexander," Raphael said again, his voice calmer this time. "Are you alright?"
A bitter laugh escaped Alexander.
"You heard what he was saying about Alicia."
"I did."
Raphael leaned back against his seat.
"And what he said was wrong."
Alexander opened his eyes slightly.
"But beating him half to death wasn’t going to change anything."
Silence filled the car.
Raphael sighed.
"Alexander, people think that way because of everything they’ve seen."
His tone softened.
"You spent months openly accompanying a celebrity. Then suddenly everyone finds out your wife was the woman beside you all along."
Alexander looked away.
The city lights blurred past the window.
He hated hearing it.
But Raphael wasn’t wrong.
Everything people believed now was the result of his own actions.
The rumors.
The misunderstandings.
The assumptions about Alicia.
He had created all of them himself.
"I know," he said quietly.
His voice sounded exhausted.
Raphael studied him for a moment before finally starting the car.
The drive was silent.
Neither man seemed interested in continuing the conversation.
After several minutes, Alexander noticed they weren’t heading toward the estate.
He frowned.
"Where are we going?"
Raphael kept his eyes on the road.
"Your hand needs treatment. I’m taking you to the hospital."
Alexander immediately shook his head.
"No."
Raphael ignored him.
"Raphael."
"No."
Alexander straightened slightly.
"I said take me home."
"You need stitches."
"I don’t."
"You don’t know that."
Alexander rubbed his temples.
The last place he wanted to be right now was a hospital.
The thought alone made his chest tighten.
"Raphael," he said quietly, "just take me back to the villa."
Raphael remained silent.
"I’ll have Maria treat it."
Still no response.
"Please."
The single word made Raphael glance at him.
For the first time that night, Raphael noticed how exhausted he truly looked.
Not angry.
Not stubborn.
Just tired.
Completely and utterly tired.
With a sigh, Raphael changed lanes and turned the car toward the estate.
Neither of them spoke again.
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the entrance of Alexander’s villa.
The house stood exactly as it always had.
Yet somehow it felt emptier than ever.
Alexander opened the door and stepped out.
"Get some sleep," Raphael said before he left.
Alexander gave a faint nod.
"I’ll try." Even though he knew it was impossible in this quiet house full of Alicia’s memories.
I remembered the day I took Lilian out for dinner.
I had run into Alicia and one of her friends.
At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it.
Now, looking back, I could almost imagine how that scene must have looked from their perspective.
A husband openly accompanying another woman.
A wife forced to stand there and watch.
Who would want a friend to stay in a marriage like that?
Who wouldn’t dislike a man who treated their friend that way?
A bitter smile appeared on my lips.
The truth was that Ariana and Sophie had every reason to hate me.
I had spent so much time indulging Lilian that I never stopped to consider how Alicia felt.
Or how others saw my actions.
Thinking back now, I realized just how blind I had been.
Lilian had been creating distance between Alicia and me from the very beginning.
And every single time,
I had helped her do it.
Frustration surged through me.
Without thinking, I slammed my injured hand against the edge of the desk.
A sharp pain shot through my knuckles.
"Hiss..."
I immediately pulled my hand back.
Fresh blood seeped through the reopened wound.
For a few seconds, the sting was intense.
Then the feeling faded beneath the exhaustion that had become constant these past few days.
I sank into the chair and leaned back.
My eyes drifted toward the phone lying on the desk.
For a moment, I simply stared at it.
Then I reached for it.
Alicia’s number was still unreachable.
I had called countless times.
Sent messages.
Left voicemails.
Nothing.
There was never any response.
The empty silence on the other end had become something I hated hearing.
I unlocked the phone.
My thumb hovered over the screen briefly before moving.
Then I tapped an application that had been sitting there untouched for years.

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