The crash's sound echoed through the quiet mansion, followed by a muffled shout. My heart sank down my throat. Alex's face, for a brief moment, seemed vulnerable or frightening. The billionaire's icy mask revealed a crack, providing insight into his hidden personality. He had left the breakfast nook, leaving me alone and my thoughts racing. Is there a reason for the uproar in this palace?
Despite my desire to comply with his directive to remain in place, I was more drawn to him due to a combination of fear and intrigue. My fight wasn't mine; it had become a part of my own life and anything that made his world spin was going to turn out just as well. I rushed out of the breakfast bar, my steps barely remaining on the thick Persian carpets that lined the lavish hallway. Thank goodness.
They ushered me deeper into the mansion, towards what appeared to be seldom-used wings.' This area experienced a rise in coldness as the air warmed. Silence was present, and the noises were hushed yet tranquil. I came across a gaping doorway and saw Anya, the housekeeper, handcuffing, her usual calm countenance in distress. Several other members of staff were present, looking unhappiness-prone.
With his shoulders bowed, Alex looked back at me with unsteadiness. He witnessed a massive, aged display cabinet breaking down on the floor, its glass being broken, and scattered pieces of art that looked like they were valuable. But the broken items were not everyone's priority. A group of individuals were gathered on the ground with no escape.
One of the girls, who was in her twenties and not yet eleven years old, was dressed in a simple childish nightgown. Her dark hair was tangy, and her face was covered in tears and scattered dirt. ". She had a wide, fearful view of Alex.' She seemed slender, feeble, and disoriented. All the while.
With a fearsome and menacing tone, Alex asked what had occurred before him, with an unexpected undertone of concern. What could have been going through his mind?
She handled her hands once more. "She... Mr." came out of the room. Anya left. Volkov. She was disoriented. Our efforts to bring her back were unsuccessful as she became agitated. The cabinet and she tumbled.' Mr.
Despite the glass being broken, Alex was still positioned by the girl. His voice was so gentle and delicate that I had never heard him speak such words. Are you hurt? ".
Elara, the girl, shook her head and whimpered. As she gazed at Alex with emotion, her eyes were filled with tears that did not indicate fear, but rather a desperate cry of childlike wonder. Despite being cold and ruthless, Alex managed to reach out and gently stroked her hair.
Who was this child? What caused her to be present, seemingly unnoticed? What made him appear so compassionate and indifferent to everyone, including myself, despite his best efforts?
Alex's head snapped up, and I must have made a small gasp in my direction. His eyes, which had been tender and worried for Elara, softened when they met mine. The mask slid back and forth. A sharp, defensive gaze replaced the brief moment of vulnerability that had passed. His jaw also tightened inward.
His voice sounded cold as they said "Isabella.".
It was a warning.
I was too surprised to take heed of it. A child. In his mansion. A hidden secret. It shattered all my assumptions about him and this house.'". Compass, and then the lawsuit -- this hidden child that has yet to be revealed. The complexities of this puzzle were becoming more intricate and personal. Why?
I asked, "Alex, who is she?" with a firm and unwavering voice. She replied: "Who is this girl?".
He rose from his position, slightly behind to shield Elara from my gaze.. His gestures were assertive, a clear barrier. "You don't care about her.". The issue at hand is confidential. ".
I scowled, looking around. "This house is not private now, it's not even after the contract.".
Never, especially not with a child! ".
With an errant gaze, he approached me. "I suggested you stay in the breakfast area.". There is no room for you to interfere in this place. ".
I replied with a clear and angry tone: "Thank you, wife!".
The person you carefully confined into this life! Your request is for me to participate in the game and become your trophy, but I must be truthful first.
He looked up at us and Elara's confusion was evident in her wide, frightened eyes. The anger of Alex was replaced by tiredness. "This isn't the right time or place, Isabella." How could she look down?
I wailed: "When do you know what else I have to learn?" He asked.
What more do you want to keep hidden?
When my words had been finished, Elara, still on the floor, let out a small, sorrowful cry. A trembling body and small gasps were heard.'The. We raised our voices and it was evident that she was having an episode, a panic attack.
Without hesitation, Alex sat her down and placed his hand on her face with real fear. "He placed a hand on her forehead, spoke quietly and quickly, and said: Elara -- you're alright.". It's alright. Just breathe, little one. Breathe. ".
His voice strained as he gazed at Anya. "Get to the doctor.". Now! And clear the room.
The rest of the staff, including Anya, dispersed themselves quickly, leaving only Alex and me to recover. ". I observed with horror how Elara's breath became shallower and more tumultuous. ". Her eyes rolled back slightly.
Upon seeing my expression, Alex gave me a desperate, pleading look that defied any hint of coldness or control. "Please," he said with an unexpected emotion. There can be no agitation from her.
For a brief moment, I was torn apart and frozen. My anger rekindled my instinctive yearning to assist the distressed child. Despite the lack of pretence on his face, Alex's fear was genuine and terrifying for Elara.
Tossing and turning to leave, my thoughts racing. What was this child's story? Why was she hiding herself away and why did billionaire, who is cold hearted but obsessed with his daughter? Upon entering the doorway, I saw a small, flickering object on the floor, situated close to Elara's shaking hand. The bird was a small, intricately designed wooden bird. The appearance was old-fashioned, almost like a fragment of the past. Despite the smooth, worn look, I could barely discern Alex's initials and another name that was not familiar at the time.
I glanced back at Alex, who was now desperately trying to soothe the troubled kid, his back to mine.'". A new, eerie revelation in this increasingly intricate and hazardous game, the wooden bird I held in my hands suddenly felt heavy.' What did this bird mean? And who was "L.V. "? This marriage was not just about a debt or ill-considered lawsuit, but also had cold feet.