The Stolen Life- My Mother Gave My Fiancé to Her Favorite Student novel Chapter 67

“Come in,” Alexander said, leaning back in his chair. Blood streaked his fingers where they rested on the

desk, but his face remained unreadable. Beneath the surface, however, a storm churned.

The assistant stepped in and froze at the wreckage of the office. His eyes flicked to Sophia, then away just

as quickly. He gripped the folder in his hands a little tighter.

Sophia felt the tension spike like a pressure drop before a thunderstorm. Every instinct screamed at her to

leave. And she did–bolting from the Harrington Group building without looking back.

Inside, the assistant approached the desk with careful steps and handed Alexander the documents. He didn’t

dare speak. He barely even breathed.

Alexander stared at the papers. His eyes, bloodshot from rage and sleepless nights, narrowed as the truth

sank in. His grip tightened, reopening the scabbed wounds on his knuckles. Fresh blood dripped onto the

documents, staining them a deep red.

Emily’s brother was truly gone.

She hadn’t just walked away–she’d erased her past. Burned the clothes she’d made for her brother. Sold off

the gifts that once meant everything. Returned the Willowridge Estate he’d given her.

She was done with him. Completely.

His chest tightened like a vice. Rage, guilt, and something far worse twisted in his gut. With a growl, he

crushed the papers in his fist, the veins at his temples pulsing.

“Bring Sophia’s entire family to the hotel,” he said, voice low and lethal. “And every single person who laid a

hand on Emily–including the doctors.”

The assistant flinched, then nodded and rushed out, cold sweat soaking through his shirt.

Alexander drove straight to the cemetery.

Fresh sunflowers were arranged neatly at the headstone. His heart kicked, and he spun around, scanning the

grounds.

“Emily! Baby, are you here?” His voice cracked, raw and hoarse. “I was wrong. I hurt you. I’m sorry, come back to me, okay? I’ll make every one of them pay.”

Only the wind answered. It howled past him, but he stood rooted, calling her name over and over, refusing to accept the silence.

A groundskeeper appeared nearby, setting down more flowers. “Stop looking. It’s just me,” the man said. “I brought the sunflowers.”

Alexander turned sharply. “The woman who arranged the headstone–do you know where she went?”

The man shook his head. “Miss Harper came once. Stayed the whole day and night. Before she left, she paid

Chapter 12

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me to bring her brother sunflowers three times a day. Said they were his favorite.”

Alexander’s chest seized with a bitter ache.

“If she comes back, call me,” he said, pressing a card and a signed blank check into the man’s hand.

Then he drove, circling the edge of the city twice before finally pulling up to the hotel.

Inside the banquet hall, Sophia and the others were seated, each face wearing a different brand of anxiety. Sophia sat stiffly, her nerves on edge.

But when Alexander walked in–calm, composed–her tension eased. She stood, voice cool but careful. “So Alexander, you’re feeling better? Did you bring us here to apologize?”

His eyes cut to her–sharp, icy. He realized now he’d let her get too comfortable. Too bold. He’d given her too

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