[Chapter 39. Finally Seeing The Man Behind The Mask.]
Last Time on Chapter 039 of [From Shadows To The Spotlight] —
Richard's instincts as an artist told him that Alex was playing a dangerous game, to him it felt like Alex wanted the audiences to fall in love with the character of Gwen Stacy.
But he remembered reading the themes that both Peter's and Spider-Man's story revolved around—Sacrifice, Responsibility & Morality.
He was almost certain now that Alex was going to kill off Gwen Stacy in an emotional moment and that scene would break Peter and change him forever.
Now Continuing —
~Meanwhile, back home with Monica Bellucci~
Morning sunlight streamed through the bedroom's sheer curtains, casting a soft glow on Monica Bellucci's serene face. She stirred slowly, her body reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed that still carried Alex's scent—an intoxicating mix of Oud and something that was just uniquely him.
The events of the previous night replayed in her mind, causing a faint blush to bloom across her cheeks.
Her thighs ached slightly, a gentle reminder of the passion they'd shared. Monica couldn't help but smile as snippets of their evening flickered in her memory.
Her whispered promises, the tender words they exchanged, and the unguarded intimacy that made her feel wholly connected to him—it all lingered like a sweet, private symphony.
Rolling onto her side, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was later than usual, but she didn't mind. She had deliberately allowed herself a rare indulgence, luxuriating in the bed that felt like Alex's embrace even in his absence.
Stretching languidly, she finally swung her legs off the mattress and padded to the adjoining bathroom.
The cool tiles underfoot made her shiver, but the promise of a hot shower drew her forward. She turned on the water, letting it heat up before stepping in. The cascade rinsed away the remnants of the night—sweat, exhaustion, and the pleasant grime of their shared passion.
Once clean, she filled the large marble bathtub, adding a touch of lavender oil to the steaming water. Sinking into the warm embrace, she sighed contentedly as her muscles began to unwind. The soothing heat worked its magic, melting away the soreness in her body and leaving only a tranquil sense of fulfillment.
After her bath, Monica wrapped herself in a soft robe, tying it securely at the waist. She returned to the bedroom, her damp hair falling in dark waves down her back. Sitting before her dressing table, she reached for her moisturizer, absently applying it to combat the winter dryness.
Her mind drifted to the day ahead—a meeting with her agent, a charity gala in the evening—but her thoughts inevitably circled back to Alex.
She couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come. What had started as a whirlwind of attraction between the two, had slowly grown into something deeper, something steady and profound. Monica cherished every moment she spent with him, every piece of himself he entrusted to her.
She had seen the man beneath all that wealth and power—the wounds he carried, the insecurities he tried so hard to hide. Most men that she had known would've closed off their hearts after what Alex had gone through, and yet he had let her in.
Her gaze fell on the envelope sitting neatly atop the dressing table. A familiar pang of affection tugged at her chest. Alex often left her little notes when work called him away early.
She picked up the letter, a small smile tugging at her lips as she imagined his loving words, apologizing for having to leave early while also promising another night filled with love and affection.
Sliding her finger under the seal, she unfolded the paper with practiced ease. The elegant handwriting was unmistakable, and her heart quickened as she read:
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Monica,
I've spent my life holding onto many negative things—pain, anger, fear, doubt—things that I thought I could never share with anyone. But you've shown me that love isn't just about holding on. It's about letting people in and letting go of that negativity.
It's about trusting someone to see all of you and still choosing to stand by your side. I've been thinking about what you said last night about taking the next step, and I want you to know that I'm ready.
I want this—for us—to be official. But before we do, there are things you deserve to know. Things about my past that shaped me into the kind of man I am today.
On the table, you'll also find a journal. It holds the truth about where I come from, the agony I've endured, the sacrifices I've made, and the scars I carry. Read it when you're ready.
I love you, Monica, more than words can say.
Yours Forever,
— Alex
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Monica pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening as joy and gratitude swelled in her chest. His words were raw, vulnerable, and utterly sincere.
She let out a soft laugh, wiping at the tear that slipped down her cheek. "Maybe it was a good thing I said all that embarrassing stuff bout having his kids last night," she murmured, her voice trembling with happiness.
Her gaze shifted to the leather bound journal beside the now-empty envelope. For a moment, she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the cover. She thought of Alex, of everything they'd shared, and of the trust they'd built brick by brick.
And she knew at that moment, regardless of what lay within those pages, it wouldn't change how she felt about him.
"I love you, Alex," she whispered to herself, her resolve firming. "All of you."
With a deep breath, she opened the journal.
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Monica opened the journal gently, the weight of Alex's words still fresh in her heart. The faint scent of leather wafted from the aged pages, and her fingers lingered for a moment before she began to read.
"I was considered a miracle child," the entry began, the words bold and deliberate, as if Alex had thought long and hard before writing them.
"Born over two months premature, I wasn't supposed to survive. My mother, Catherine, was bleeding badly from the awkwardly done C-section, and the doctors gave her a choice—save her life or risk everything for mine."
"She chose me."
Monica's breath hitched as she felt her chest tighten. She could almost hear Alex's voice narrating the story, the undercurrent of pain and reverence in his tone.
"The delivery was a fight for both of us, while I was lucky enough to make it. My mother, though... she wasn't as lucky."
"She named me Alexander just before she passed, holding me in her arms. It's why I've never changed my name."
"It's all I have left of her."
Tears pricked Monica's eyes. She clutched the edge of the journal as if bracing herself against the sorrow etched into Alex's words.
"My father, Dean Thomas, had actually been a decent man once; at least that's what I've been told. A lawyer with questionable morals and a greed for money but nothing overtly vile or corrupt."
"But that all changed when my mother died; it was as if something in him snapped. He abandoned us—abandoned me."
"He gathered his stuff and just skipped town, leaving the hospital to scramble looking for any relatives who might be willing to take me in."
Monica closed her eyes briefly, letting the raw emotion of the story settle. She pictured Alex as a fragile newborn, thrust into a world that seemed determined to reject him.
"Thankfully, that's when my aunt Susan stepped in. Auntie Susie, as I used to call her, was my mother's sister. She was a kind soul who took me in without hesitation and cared for me like her own."
"For a few years growing up, I had a semblance of normalcy, of familial love. Even though she made me call her Auntie, she always treated me as her own son, and I'll always cherish those memories."
A faint smile tugged at Monica's lips. She could almost see the boy Alex must have been—resilient, hopeful, surrounded by the love of a woman determined to give him the life he deserved.
But as she read further, the warmth faded, replaced by a growing ache.
"Sadly, good things don't last long.. they never do, and neither did my time with her. From what I recall, I was around six years old when Auntie was involved in a car accident."
"She needed surgery, but her insurance company had rejected the claim, partially based on a technicality. She didn't get proper medical care and died because of it—because of a lack of money."
Monica's hands trembled slightly, and she blinked back tears. The connection clicked in her mind, clear as day. "No wonder," she murmured aloud, her voice thick with emotion. "No wonder he's done so much for medical charities."
She thought of Alex's tireless efforts through his Studio and the actors tied to it to advocate for mental health, for inclusion of women in clinical trials, etc.
Through the studio, Alex had helped fund a number of non-profit clinics and hospitals in different states, and there is even the insurance company he'd founded to provide care for all those that felt cheated by the system.
His generosity extended far beyond the entertainment world. MONARCH's reputation for community service was unmatched, from soup kitchens and homeless shelters to schools and goodwill shops.
Alex's drive to give back to the community, to prevent others from suffering as he had, suddenly made perfect sense to her. His aunt was the catalyst for it.
Drawing a deep breath, Monica turned the page, her resolve strengthening.
"After Auntie's death, I was placed with my father again. By then, he had remarried and had a daughter with his new wife. That's when my real hell began."
"I didn't know it then, but my father had become a different man—angry, bitter, and cruel. At least towards me and always away from the gentle and caring eyes of my new stepmother."
"He used to tell me that I was worthless, a burden, a good-for-nothing freak that killed his own mother. Every day was a struggle to hold onto even a shred of self-worth and dignity; I hated myself for a long time."
"It took years of therapy to undo the damage he did to my sense of self, and even then my traitorous mind would sometimes conjure up his voice, telling me how I didn't deserve what I had and how I will end up miserable and alone as a freak wasn't worthy of being loved."
"I am a broken man."
Monica's heart broke, and she gritted her teeth in anger, as she imagined a young Alex enduring such abuse. She whispered to the empty room, "You're not broken; to me, you're worth everything, Alex. And I hope that bastard dies painfully if he isn't dead already."
"I was twelve when things went from bad to worse; my biological donor stole my mother's and her sibling's inheritance money and disappeared. He left us with nothing."
"His betrayal didn't just hurt my stepmother's feelings and gave her trust issues and paranoia, but also made her an outcast in her own family for bringing that snake into their family and causing them to lose the money."
"And despite all that, she was just as kind and loving towards me as she always had been."
"She had to sell her apartment and move us to a cheaper neighborhood in Hollywood. It was me, Abigail, and my two stepsisters—Sophia and Chloe—trying to make ends meet."
Monica smiled softly at the mention of Abigail. She had met Alex's stepmother a few times and could see the deep bond they shared. It was clear that, despite the hardships, Abigail had been a guiding light in Alex's life.
"Abigail's strength and kindness inspired me. She never complained, never once blamed me or faltered. It made me want to help, to contribute; I just wanted to make a difference, make their lives easier, even if just a little."
"It was after watching Star Wars: A New Hope, that I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and decided to take a leap of faith. I dropped out of school, taking part-time jobs to support our family while looking for opportunities to break into the film industry. That's how it all began."
Monica closed the journal, as she was already aware of the rest, as he had been quite open about telling her stories about how he started out in Jaws 2. But her mind was somewhere else; her emotions were swirling like a storm.
She ran her fingers over the cover, tracing its edges as she processed what she had read.
Alex's past was a painting depicting tragedy, hardships, pain, and resilience, each brushstroke told a story of loss, betrayal, and his unwavering determination to rise above it all.
And that's exactly what he did; he had emerged stronger, kinder, and far more compassionate than any man she had ever seen with a past like his and his power and influence.
Monica's gaze drifted to the bedroom door; her eyes were filled with unshed tears of pride and joy as she whispered softly to herself, "I'll always love you, Alex. And now, after knowing the kind of man you've become despite all that you've been through, I love you even more."
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~A few hours later with Alex~
The audition room was bathed in natural light from a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of Los Angeles's skyline.
The room itself was minimally decorated, and a few people were walking in and out with costumes and props that might indeed be for the scene. Despite the hubbub of the excited chatter, the room exuded a certain gravitas.
A long table sat at its center, scattered with scripts, coffee cups, and notepads. Alex Masters sat at the center of the table, a stack of audition tapes and resumes neatly arranged before him, with a TV running to his right. His sharp eyes scanned the shortlist of names one last time.
"Alright, let's do this," Alex said, his voice calm but resolute. Beside him were two of his most trusted casting directors, Jeff Billon and Brooke Shields. The former adjusted his glasses and grinned in excitement when he heard Alex speak up.
"It's a solid lineup, Alex. I'm telling you, this role is as good as cast." Jeff pointed to a name on the list. "There's a kid named Joseph, and I tell you he's just perfect—Peter Parker incarnate. The look, the awkward energy, the vulnerability."
Alex remained silent as he recalled the tape of Joseph's audition; he couldn't help but nod in agreement with Jeff's assessment. But he didn't want Jeff to get too excited, as it wasn't a done deal yet, and who knew what might happen?
Alex was always a firm believer in never counting your chickens before the eggs had even hatched. "While that might be true, there are some contenders for the role like - Heath Ledger, James Franco, Tobey Maguire, and there's even a wildcard entrant in the mix from Brooke."
— To be Continued...
{2527 words}
{TRL: And here we finally get to see the tragic backstory of Alex Masters in its entirety. Till things had been kept on the down low with small snippets here and there but this reveal was a long in the works.
I hope it wasn't to overbearing and made sense as to why it happened like this, and yes Monica is one of the permanent love interests for Alex. Unless something bad happens. But who knows what might happen in the future. I am writing this story on the fly and freely so even I don't know actually.
I won't say anymore about but if you guys do have any questions regarding the matter then do let me know in the comments. I hope you all liked how revealed Alex's past and my version of Ms. Monica Bellucci.}