Chapter 4
The heavy oak door clicked shut, cutting off the echo of Saraphina’s frantic footsteps.
Silence descended on the apartment, broken only by the soft hum of city traffic outside and the clink of Isabella’s wine glass.
I let out a long breath and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Isabella didn’t look the least bit apologetic. She leaned back against the counter and took a slow sip of her merlot.
“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself, Thorne. I didn’t do it to stake a claim on you. I did it because seeing the flawless, untouchable Saraphina Dubois look like a kicked puppy is a rare vintage. I intend to savor it.”
I shook my head and walked past her to grab my coat.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Isabella. Saraphina’s pride may be bruised, but her family’s power is no joke.”
“Where are you going?”
The playful glint in Isabella’s eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating stare.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually going to run after her after you just signed the papers.”
“I’m not running after her,” I said, slipping into my jacket. “I’m going to the hospital. Grandpa Dubois was the only person in that sprawling, miserable mansion who treated me like a human being. If he’s in the ICU, I owe it to him to see him. But I’m doing it on my own terms, not as the Dubois family’s discarded son-in-law.”
Isabella watched me for a long moment. Then the corner of her lips lifted into a genuine, approving smile.
“You really have changed, Alex. The old you would have been on your knees crying by now. Fine. Go pay your respects. But remember, if her new golden boy is there, don’t let them step on you.”
“I don’t plan to.”
The pristine, sterile scent of the private hospital wing hit me as soon as the elevator doors opened.
The VIP waiting area was eerily quiet.
I recognized the Dubois family’s private security standing near the ICU doors.
As I approached, a sharp, condescending voice cut through the silence.
“I still don’t understand why you went to his apartment, Sarah. The garbage took itself out. Why drag it back inside?”
I paused near the corner.
Sitting on a plush sofa in the waiting room was Saraphina. She looked pale, her usual commanding aura fractured.
Beside her, trying to hold her hand, sat a tall, impeccably styled man with a jawline straight out of a fashion magazine.
Julian Vance.
The man responsible for Alex Thorne’s death in the original novel.
“Julian, please,” Saraphina whispered, pulling her hand away. “Grandpa asked for him. And… things were weird. He didn’t even fight the divorce. He just took the money.”
“And Isabella Montes was there in his apartment in a bathrobe,” she added bitterly.
Julian scoffed, his eyes flashing with dark annoyance.
“She’s just using him to get under your skin. The man is a parasite. Sarah, you’re finally free.”
“Am I?”
I stepped around the corner, my voice flat and even.