Alexia pulled her Mercedes up to the liquor store, determined to buy some red wine and dark chocolate. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but a glass of wine helped her unwind and calm down when the weight of it all became too much. Dark chocolate complemented the wine perfectly. It was her way of coping, a muted moment of indulgence she definitely deserved.
She had $43.82 in her checking account, but when she went up to check out and use her debit card, she checked her checking account balance, and it showed $100,043.82.
SURPRRISE! Yes, Elliot had $100,000.00 transferred directly into her bank account. She still had the same bank account as when they were together.
She left her items at the checkout counter and left the store.
“Well hell, might as well go buy the great dark chocolate.”
Sliding into her Mercedes and using GPS, she located an upscale liquor store three miles away.
“Damn you, Elliot. I hate you!”
With her bag in hand, she walks up the stone steps, and rings the doorbell... and Georgia greets her and opens the door.
Georgia notices the bag with wine in a black decorative designer bag with the name ‘Mali & Lali’ stitched on the outside in gold.
“Oh, I see, you met the Mali and Lali sisters today?” said Georgia.
“Who?”
Georgia points to the designer bag.
“I guess I did. I found what I was looking for,” said Alexia, while looking at the bag. She walks toward her wing of the estate.
“Miss Marque.”
“Yes.”
“Two envelopes were delivered to you an hour ago,” said Georgia as she handed them to her.
“See you at dinner at 7. Special attire?” asked Alexia.
“Not necessary. It is served in the small dining room,” said Georgia.
She put the envelopes in the bag with her two bottles of wine and a box of gourmet dark chocolate and continued walking to her wing of the estate.
In her kitchen, she takes everything out of the designer tote bag. She preferred her wine chilled, along with her dark chocolate. When she opened the refrigerator door, she noticed a box of the exact dark chocolates she had just bought was waiting for her; then she looked around and noticed a wine cooler; when she opened it, there were three bottles already chilled.
“Damn you, Elliot. You haven’t forgotten anything. Damn you, anyway.”
Alexia knew what the two envelopes were: a business credit card and a personal credit card with her name on them, and a note in Elliot’s handwriting:
“Alexia, for your personal needs. Elliot.”
She didn’t have to check the amounts because she knew they had no limit.
She opened a chilled bottle of wine and poured it into the wineglass with her name engraved in script: Alexia.
“You planned everything down to the smallest detail. Just wait. My revenge will be ten times worse than what you did to me. You want fire! You got it!”
At seven, Alexia sat at the dining table. The aroma of filet steak filled the air, mingling with the rich scent of freshly baked potato and a spinach salad. It was delicious.
Alexia’s stomach growled, not from hunger, but from the decisions she’d made. Yet, the past 24 hours plagued her. She couldn’t stop reliving the moment Elliot showed up at her old studio apartment.
The house, the grand estate, the endless luxuries... it was all too much. Too perfect. Too manipulative. But it was the only way forward, whether or not she liked it.
After the meal, Alexia excused herself. She felt drained, both physically and emotionally, and needed to retreat. It had been a long day, filled with decisions she never wanted to make.
The next morning, after eating breakfast, Georgia removed the contents from an envelope.
“Alexia, here are two keys. One to your back entrance to your living quarters, and this key is the main front entrance,” said Georgia as she handed them to her.
“Thank you.”
“When you’re done here, I’ve asked Anna to return to your studio and show you how to use our security system. She has your security code number. She will show you where to park when you’re staying in and overnight.”
“Thank you,” said Alexia, turning toward Anna. “Anna, I’ll be ready in just a second.”
“No problem. Do you need help in the studio?” asked Anna.
“No, thank you. I prefer to do it myself, so I know where everything is.”
A few minutes later, while Anna was showing her the security system, Alexia needed to verify a few things that were on her mind before she dived into the room.
“Anna, how many staff members are there that live onsite?”
“Well, including me, there’s ten. Why? Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no. The only staff members you haven’t met are Sofia and Maria. They are maids like me. Also, Ricardo is the gardener, and the security team: Macon, Jacob, and Steven.
“Thank you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, just wondered. Well, I need to get busy.”
Alexia started arranging and moving things to how she likes to work.
It was after 9 pm when Elliot arrived home. This trip was more intense than usual; he was glad to be home.
“Mr. Cummings, Marcella made fresh peach tea today. Would you like a glass of it?” asked Georgia.
“Yes. That would be nice, Georgia.”
With a glass of peach tea, he walked straight to Alexia’s wing of the house. His curiosity peaked as he noticed the door was slightly ajar.
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Without knocking, he stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the painting she had named “HATE.” It was still wet, vivid, and raw. It sat there on the easel, showing Alexia’s hate for her current situation.
He stopped in his tracks. Before he could fully study it, Alexia appeared.
Elliot moved closer, his eyes still staring at the painting. He could feel her presence behind him, her anger growing, but it wasn’t just anger; it was something deeper, something he’d never expected.
“What’s with the painting?”
“Do you really want to talk about that?”
Elliot didn’t respond immediately. “I didn’t know it would turn out like that. But I had no choice, Alexia. You were drowning. I couldn’t just let you go.”
“Damn you, Elliot! You think you saved me? You’re the reason I’m here. You set me up, Elliot. I had exhibitions planned. I had a life before you came back into it. Damn you!”
He looked away. The guilt had been constant since the first moment he abandoned her, but he had no choice. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“Then why did you? Tell me why!”
“I did it because I didn’t know how else to make you listen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Damn you!”
“I thought that if I could provide you with the space you needed, the right environment for your work, you’d see... what we could have. What I could offer you?”
“You think you own me? Is that it? Can you just buy me? Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Buying my silence, buying my work.”
Elliot’s shoulders tightened, and for the first time, he felt the full weight of her words. He had crossed a line. He had done this to himself.
“I didn’t think you’d see it that way,” he muttered, taking a step back. “But if that’s how you feel...”
“Don’t try to fix it now. You’ve already taken everything I had left. And for what?”
“I never wanted to take anything from you, Alexia. Only to give you the chance you deserved.”
But she wasn’t listening anymore. She had heard it all before.
“Spare me! You’ve never given me anything but empty promises! Damn you, Elliot!”
The next morning, Elliot sat in his black leather chair at his enormous mahogany desk going over documents. His desk sat strategically in front of a massive bay window anchored by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves at both ends. The view from his window showcased his estate and wealth.
His study was his haven. With a light blend of new leather, rich polish, and the aroma of fresh coffee. Tasteful decor touches filled the room, including three paintings gifted from Alexia over five years ago.
Elliot’s mind was still set on the details of the contract he’d given Alexia the night before. He glanced at his phone for a time, then texted Georgia.
“Tell Alexia face-to-face that I’ve set a 10:30 am meeting with her about the contract. Ten minutes only.”
Elliot leaned back in his leather chair; he was eager to see how she would respond. Their business had just begun.
Georgia texted Elliot: “Heading to deliver your message in person.”
Georgia found Alexia in her studio, standing motionless, staring at a painting.
“Bold piece,” Georgia remarked, her eyes drawn to the bold strokes of crimson and black. “Love the title.”
“Appropriate. Agree?”
“Yes, it is. Quite fitting,” said Georgia, pausing for a moment, “Mr. Cummings asked to meet with you at 10:30 about the contract.”
“Tell him I’ll be there. 10:30.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks,” Alexia murmured, her eyes drifting back to the painting as Georgia left.
What would she say to him? What did he really want? She pushed the thoughts aside. For now, she’d play along.
An hour later, Alexia stood in front of Elliot’s study door, dreading the meeting. Just knock on the door and get this over with. One meeting.
“Come in,” said Elliot.
Inside, Elliot gestured toward a conference table. Alexia joined him.
“I have no questions. It is quite clear what your client wants.”
“And do you have everything you need to complete it?”
“Yes, for all three pieces.”
Elliot leaned forward slightly. “Perfect. Let me...” His phone buzzed. He glanced at his phone's screen and answered. “I need a moment,” he told the caller before turning back to Alexia.
“We’ll continue tonight over dinner at 7:30.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he was already back on the call. Annoyed, Alexia rose and left without a word.
“What a waste of time,” she muttered once she was out of the room. He’s still pulling the strings, controlling everything. Damn it, now I have to eat with him. But maybe I’ll find out what he wants.
Alexia stormed back into her studio; she grabbed her phone and dialed Myra, her best friend.
“This better be good,” Myra answered over the noise of blow-dryers in the background.
“Oh, it’s not,” Alexia shot back. “I’m stuck in this ridiculous deal with Elliot, and I’m ready to strangle him.”
“Ugh, what now? Did he manipulate you again?” Myra’s voice was dry, punctuated by the clinking of scissors.
“No, worse, he called a meeting, then cut me off to take some ‘urgent’ call. It’s like I’m not even worth his time, but somehow, he still thinks he can control everything.”
“Typical. He’s a walking ego in a tailored suit,” Myra paused. “Listen, you need a night out. Let me finish these roots, and we’ll talk over wine and overpriced breadsticks tomorrow.”
“I’ll do you one better—I’ll take you somewhere actually nice. My treat. Tomorrow, eight o’clock?”
“You’re paying? In that case, I’ll wear heels.”
“You in heels? This I’ve got to see.”
Myra laughed, her voice light and teasing. “Don’t start. I’ve got another client waiting. Go paint something angry and meet me tomorrow.”
“Fine. And thanks, Myra.”
“Always. Now go make some art.”
Alexia ended the call, her tension easing slightly. Myra always knew how to ground her, even from miles away.
Elliot sat at the empty conference table, Alexia’s parting words still ringing in his ears. Her anger had been expected, calculated even, but watching her leave, the tight knot in his chest felt less like victory and more like failure.
He reached for his phone and tapped open his messages. The one he’d sent to Jonathan earlier that morning glared back at him. “Call me at exactly 10:34.”
Jonathan executed it perfectly. Elliot knew Alexia would never agree to dinner if he asked outright. She’d see it as another play for control, another move in whatever game she thought he was playing. The interruption, seemingly spontaneous, had been the perfect solution, a way to steer her where he needed her to go.
“You’re a damned fool,” he muttered, tossing the phone onto the table.
Manipulation came naturally to him, as it always had. But this time, it wasn’t about control, not really.
“I just needed time,” he whispered, as though the words alone could make it true. “Time to make her see.”
“I know sir,” Jonathan had said earlier.
The truth was messier than any contract or dinner arrangement.
It was about protecting her from the parts of the past she didn’t know, and never needed to. He couldn’t just sit by and let her life fall apart again.
Every move he made to bring her closer seemed to push her further away. And yet, he couldn’t risk sharing, not while she still saw him as the manipulator.
“Five years ago, I had no choice,” Elliot thought, the memory hurting more than he expected. But choices had consequences. Alexia’s exhibitions, her struggles... it all traced back to him, to decisions she could never know about. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“She’ll think I’m manipulating her, Jonathan,” he’d told his driver that morning, as they’d gone over the plan. “But that’s the only way. She won’t hear me otherwise.”
“You are sure you want to do it this way, Mr. Cummings?” asked Jonathan.
Elliot hesitated for just a moment. “No,” he admitted. “But I have to.”
Now Elliot wasn’t so sure.
“How do I make her understand?”
How do I protect her? How?