“Get on your knees and beg,” she sneered, dumping a glass of champagne over my maid’s uniform as the guests laughed. I lowered my eyes, pretending to be humiliated—until the billionaire owner walked into the room. “Why is she on the floor?” he demanded. The woman froze. He looked at me, then at her, and said, “You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself.” That was when I knew her perfect night was about to collapse. / Chapter 9 / 10

Chapter 9 - THE EVENING ON THE TERRACEAs the sun began to set over the Manhattan skyline, painting the tall glass skyscrapers in vibrant shades of gold, crimson, and deep violet, Alexander and I sat together on the private terrace overlooking the city.

The air was crisp and scented with fresh jasmine from the terrace gardens.

Alexander set his laptop aside, reached across the table, and gently covered my hand with his. His grip was warm, solid, and reassuring.

“I never asked you,” Alexander said softly, his voice low in the quiet evening air. “That night in the ballroom... when she poured the champagne over your face. Why didn't you stop her instantly? You had the power to destroy her with a single sentence.”

I looked out at the glowing lights of the city, taking a long, peaceful breath.

“Because, Alexander,” I answered gently, looking back into his eyes, “if I had stopped her instantly, she would have learned to hide her cruelty better. She would have apologized to protect her reputation, and then she would have gone home and abused another waitress tomorrow night.”

I reached over, resting my thumb against his knuckles.

“Sometimes,” I continued, “you have to let arrogant people build their own trap completely before you pull the lever. You have to let them show the world exactly who they are when they think nobody can stop them.”

Alexander let out a soft, deep laugh—a sound of profound admiration and affection.

“You are terrifyingly brilliant, Dr. Vance,” he smiled.

“I’m just a woman who believes in good logistics,” I replied, a radiant smile breaking across my face.

Alexander stood up from his chair, stepped around the stone table, and extended his hand to me.

I stood up, stepping into his space.

Alexander reached out, his long fingers gently cupping my cheek—the very cheek where Vanessa Cole had poured cold champagne six months ago. His touch was so gentle, so tender, that my breath hitched in my throat.

“I’ve loved you since the day you walked into my office with that insane undercover audit proposal, Elena,” Alexander murmured, his grey eyes shining with intense, absolute devotion.