Chương 6
“Sometimes.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“This group specializes in buying companies after destroying their reputation first.”
I sat back.
“What?”
“They were already spreading information about Whitmore Industries.”
“Why?”
“To lower the price.”
I thought about my father’s panic.
The meetings.
The rumors.
The desperation.
“You think someone was trying to force him into selling.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Alexander was quiet.
That silence returned.
The same silence from my father’s conversation.
The kind that meant the answer was complicated.
“I don’t know yet.”
That surprised me.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
For the first time, I saw uncertainty in him.
Not weakness.
Humanity.
“I have suspicions.”
“About who?”
He looked at me.
“Your brother.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Alexander didn’t argue.
He simply watched me.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What?”
“That you spent years believing Logan was protected because he was loved.”
I looked down.
“But there is another possibility.”
I hated that sentence.
Because possibilities were dangerous.
They forced you to question memories you had already accepted.
“What possibility?”
Alexander lowered his voice.
“That he was protected because someone needed him useful.”
I stared at him across the table.
The restaurant around us continued moving.
People laughed at nearby tables.
A server carried plates toward the kitchen.
Someone dropped a fork and apologized.
The world had the strange habit of continuing even when your own life had just changed.
“What are you saying?”
Alexander didn’t answer immediately.
He reached for his water glass and took a slow drink.
“I’m saying your brother may not have been the person making decisions.”
I felt a familiar irritation rise.
“Logan was responsible for what happened.”
“Yes.”
The answer came quickly.
That stopped me.
Alexander didn’t defend him.
He didn’t soften it.
“He made choices,” Alexander continued.
“Those choices hurt people.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“The problem is that people like Logan rarely create complicated financial situations alone.”
I looked away.
The idea bothered me because it created a new version of the past.
For years, I had imagined my brother sitting alone, making selfish decisions, then letting everyone else clean up the damage.
That version was simple.
This one wasn’t.
“What makes you think there was someone else?”
Alexander opened his phone.
He turned the screen toward me.
There were several documents displayed.
Emails.
Transaction records.
Calendar entries.
I leaned closer.
“I don’t understand what I’m looking at.”
“Look at the dates.”
I followed the highlighted sections.
The first transfer.
The gambling payments.
The meeting Logan had with a consultant.
Something felt wrong.
The timeline didn’t match.
“The money was moved before the gambling debt became public.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Alexander pointed to another document.
“The account used to hide the transfers was created before Logan had access to the company funds.”
I stared at the screen.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
“Someone planned this.”
“That’s my concern.”
I pushed the phone back.
“But why would anyone frame me?”
Alexander’s expression changed.
That was the question he had been waiting for.
“Because you were the least protected person in the family.”
The answer hurt because it was true.
I hated how quickly my mind accepted it.
I had spent years believing my weakness was the reason I was chosen.
Maybe my weakness was exactly what made me useful.
“I need to see the documents.”
“You can.”
“Not through you.”
He nodded.
That surprised me.
“I expected you to say that.”
“I don’t want to owe you everything.”
A small smile touched his face.
“I know.”
“You’re not offended?”
“No.”
He looked at me carefully.
“I would have been more worried if you trusted me without questioning anything.”
That was another thing I noticed about him.
Alexander did not seem to need admiration.
He seemed to value resistance.
Maybe that was why he noticed me.
I had spent my whole life being told my questions were a problem.
He treated them like proof I was paying attention.
After dinner, we walked back to his car.
The streets were mostly empty.
Thanksgiving night had a strange quietness.
Families were inside watching movies.
Children were sleeping after too much sugar.
Adults were pretending not to check their phones.
I stopped beside the car.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you call me your fiancée tonight?”
The question had been sitting between us since the kitchen.
Alexander didn’t immediately answer.
That bothered me.
Because I knew he was choosing his words.
“I was trying to protect you.”
I looked at him.
“That’s not the whole answer.”
“No.”
He admitted it.
“I also wanted them to understand that they no longer had control over you.”
I crossed my arms.
“That sounds like something from a movie.”
“I know.”
“And real life is usually more complicated.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the house in the distance behind us.
“I should have asked before I did it.”
That surprised me.
“You’re apologizing?”
“Yes.”
“Alexander Hayes is apologizing?”
He smiled slightly.
“Occasionally.”
The moment was small.
Almost ordinary.
But it mattered.
Because powerful people rarely admitted when they crossed a line.
“I was angry,” he said.
“At what?”
“At watching someone treat a person I respect like they were invisible.”
I looked down.
The words made me uncomfortable.
Not because I disliked hearing them.
Because some part of me still didn’t believe I deserved them.
“I’m not used to people defending me.”
His expression softened.
“You should be.”
I looked away.
The sentence was simple.
But it carried a weight I wasn’t ready to accept.
When I got home that night, I expected to sleep.
Instead, I sat on my couch for almost an hour without turning on any lights.
My apartment was small.
A place I had chosen because I could afford it.
A place where nobody told me what role I was supposed to play.
There were books stacked on the floor.
May you like
A plant near the window that I constantly forgot to water.
A coffee mug on the table from three mornings ago.
