Alexia stood by the bay window in her estate suite. Elliot knocked lightly on her door. “Come in. You’re on time. Impressive.”
“Eight o’clock sharp.”
“Marcella did a nice job,” Alexia remarked, finally turning to face him.
“She always does,” Elliot said as he set a bottle of wine on the table. “May I?”
Alexia gave a small nod. “Why not?”
They sat down across from each other, and the tension between them was thick, as if an uninvited guest had joined them.
“You wanted to talk.”
“Yes... it’s... about my father. About why I disappeared.”
Alexia’s expression didn’t change, but she set her glass down, waiting.
“He made a deal with... let’s just say... the wrong kind of people. Business partners who didn’t care about loyalty or morality, only money. When his company collapsed, he owed them millions. They didn’t come for him, though. They came for me.”
"Are you telling the truth, Elliot?"
“He died in a car accident shortly after. That left me to clean up his mess,” said Elliot, taking a sip of wine. “It wasn’t just about money—it was about survival. For both of us.”
“For both of us?”
“They would’ve used you to get to me,” said Elliot, meeting her gaze directly. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So, you walked away. Without a word.”
“It was the only way I could keep you safe.”
Alexia picked up her glass, turning it in her hand but not drinking. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted you to know the truth. At least part of it.”
“And the rest?”
“Another time. When you’re ready to hear it.”
The tension didn’t ease: Alexia looked away first. “This doesn’t change anything, Elliot.”
“I know.”
She stood, her chair scraping softly against the floor. “Thank you for dinner. You can see yourself out.”
Elliot hesitated, but rose to his feet. “Goodnight, Alexia.”
She didn’t respond, her back had already turned away from him as she walked to the window. He left quietly.
Alone, Alexia stared out into the night, her reflection faint in the glass. “This doesn’t change anything,” she told herself again. It’s moments like this that... eat at her soul, leaving doubt in her mind that can betray her.
Late the next morning, Alexia called Myra. She needed to vent.
“Hi Alexia. What’s up?”
“I wanted to check on you. How was last night?”
A soft laugh came through the phone. “Edward’s great—funny, kind, even insightful. It was nice to feel... normal for a change.”
“You deserve that.”
“What about you? Elliot didn’t follow you out of the club, did he?”
“No,” said Alexia, glancing back at the canvas. “I stayed a little longer so he would leave. Just needed time to think before going back to the estate.”
“Alexia...”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted.
“Alexia, let’s meet for lunch. Stella’s Café, two o’clock?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Good. We’ll talk more then. Don’t forget—you’re stronger than you think.”
Alexia hung up. Turning back to the canvas, she picked up her brush, adding streaks of blue that sliced through the chaos. Her movements slowed as her mind replayed Elliot’s words from the night before.
Elliot sat in his study, he was looking at the painting Alexia had gifted him years ago. It was time to leave for an important meeting.
He texted Jonathan, "Time to go. Zandala Hotel. Suite 1400."
As Elliot approached Suite 1400, he thought about how Ben and Ava Chase had saved him over the past five years.
Elliot knocked on the door of the luxury suite. A moment later, it opened to reveal Ava, her warm smile brightening the room.
“Elliot,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “It’s been too long.”
“Far too long,” Elliot replied, stepping into the suite.
Ben, Ava's husband, emerged from the other room. “You’re looking well. Busy as ever?”
“Always.”
They exchanged pleasantries before moving to the plush sitting area. A red velvet-lined box rested on the coffee table, catching Elliot’s attention.
“I have something for you,” Ava said, gesturing to the box. Elliot opened it revealing a striking crimson red jewelry set: a necklace, earrings, bracelet, ankle bracelet, and a ring.
“Crimson red. You once told me that this was her favorite color,” said Ava.
“These are perfect Ava,” he said, while holding up the bracelet.
“She’ll wear them eventually. Right now, she’s too...”
“She will,” said Ava. “Wait for the right moment to give them to her.”
He set the bracelet down and picked up the necklace. “There’s more. Shoes and a matching purse—custom pieces. I’ll send you the specs so you can choose the designs. You’d know best.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“You have no idea the stuff I have at my disposal to keep track of anyone?”
“Elliot, she’s not kidding. I didn’t know I married a genius until after five years in,” said Ben.
“Your just as bad. You two are like walking encyclopedias!”
“Careful,” Ava warned playfully. “Ben’s been known to recite obscure history facts to prove a point.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Ben countered. “She’s got her own quirks—like solving advanced cryptography puzzles for fun.”
“And do you have little geniuses yet?”
“Well,” Ava said, her eyes brightening, “we will in about 34 weeks. Twins.”
“Twins?” Elliot’s face softened. “Congratulations. I’m truly happy for you both.”
“Thank you,” said Ben.
“Actually, we were hoping you’d say yes to being their godfather,” said Ava, her voice quieter but sincere.
“So, Elliot, what do you say?” asked Ben.
“I would be honored. Be careful, Ava,” said Elliot.
“Of course, I’ll let Ben carry some of my load.”
“Ava’s the one you don’t want to underestimate. Looks sweet, doesn’t she? Don’t let that fool you. I mean it,” said Ben seriously. “She’s more dangerous than I am.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Ben, stop it.”
“Most of the intricate surveillance you have... came from her brain,” said Ben.
“Then her brain saved mine three years ago,” said Elliot. “So, I owe you another sincere thank you. You saved my life that night.”
“Part of the job,” said Ava. “Glad I did. Now our twins will have a rich godfather.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“You really are too much, Ava,” said Elliot.
“Here to help... and speaking of that, do you need anything while we’re here?” asked Ava.
“Elliot, we leave tomorrow night at 10. So, if you need help with tracking or security while we are here, let us know. We’d be glad to do it,” said Ben, back in security mode.
“Yes, dinner and dancing was nice last night,” said Ava, winking.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” said Elliot
Briefly, they changed the subject to discuss the logistics and progress of other business ventures. Ben invited him and Alexia to visit them in Rome.
“When things settle,” said Ben. “You’re always welcome.”
Ava added with a soft laugh, “Be good, Elliot.”
Elliot looked between them, noting the ease in their dynamic. Ben’s admiration for Ava was honest, and Elliot quietly hoped for that kind of connection with Alexia.
“Maybe one day, Alexia,” he thought.
Elliot walked toward the door to leave, and as the door closed slowly, he heard a giggle from Ava. He glanced back briefly, catching the way Ben smiled at Ava. For a moment, his envy of their deep connection caught him by surprise.
Alexia arrived first at Stella’s Cafe, choosing a quiet corner table by the window. She glanced outside; her gaze unfocused as she replayed Elliot’s words from the night before in her mind.
When Myra walked in, her yellow summer dress turned a few heads. She spotted Alexia immediately and waved.
“Hey!” Myra greeted her as she slid into the seat across from Alexia. “You look deep in thought. What’s going on?”
“Just trying to process some things. You’re glowing, by the way. Edward?”
Myra laughed lightly, her cheeks flushing. “He’s... something else. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. It’s easy with him, you know?”
“I’m happy for you, Myra. You deserve this.”
“And you,” Myra began, leaning closer, “deserve answers. So, what’s the deal with Elliot?”
“He told me why he left. His father was involved with... dangerous people. When his dad died in a car accident, they came after him. He said he walked away to protect me.”
“You believe him?”
“I don’t know,” Alexia admitted. “Part of me does. The way he said it... it felt real. But after everything, it’s hard to trust him.”
“I get that. But I’ve known you a long time, Alexia. You’ve always been good at reading people, even when you don’t want to admit it. What does your gut say?”
“That he’s hiding something. There’s more to the story, but he’s not ready to tell me.”
“Then take it one step at a time. Don’t let him pull you in until... you’re sure.”
“So, Edward’s taking me to one of his resorts this weekend.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. He owns a resort in Bermuda. I wasn’t sure at first, but... I think I’m ready to trust him. It feels right.”
“I’m glad for you. Really. You’ve found something good.”
“And you will too,” said Myra. “Elliot may have his reasons, but don’t let him control you. Ah... this salad looks good, let’s eat.”
“Let’s hope I figure out his story sooner rather than later.”
Alexia returned to the estate. Tired but restless, she headed to her studio, craving the solace of her brushes and paints.
“What the hell!” The easel stood where she’d left it, but the "HATE" painting was missing.
Everything was as it had been—except for the one painting that mattered most.
“No!” There was only one person who could’ve done this.
Alexia stormed out of the studio, and each step fed her fury.
She found him in his study, seated at his massive mahogany desk, poring over a stack of documents. He glanced up as she burst in, his calm expression barely shifting.
“Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“You know exactly what. My painting. “HATE.” It’s gone.”
Elliot exhaled slowly. “Alexia, I needed you to see what others would see in it… its power.”
“You needed me to? Damn you, Elliot! You don’t get to decide what I need!” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “That painting is mine. It’s personal. You had no right.”
“I didn’t take it to hurt you... I took it because it deserves to be seen.”
Alexia’s green eyes burned with fury, and for a moment, her silence was louder than words. Then, with a sharp breath, she turned and left, her anger trailing behind her like a storm.
Elliot just sat there in his haven as she left. “Oh!”
Five minutes later, Alexia returned to Elliot’s study again. The absence of the “HATE” painting in her studio had shaken something deep in her.
Elliot looked up from his desk. “Alexia, I was expecting you.”
“Where is it?”
“If you’re referring to your painting, it’s currently in a secure location.”
“A secure location? You had no right to take it, Elliot. That painting is mine... it’s personal. You can’t just...”
“I didn’t take it or steal it,” he interrupted, “I took it because I saw what you refused to see, its power.”
“Its power? What are you even talking about?”
“I took it to an art curator I trust. Someone with connections to the most exclusive galleries in the city. He took one look at it and said it’s the kind of raw, emotional work collectors would fight over.”
“You did what?”
“I had it evaluated. And the curator offered to feature it in an upcoming exhibition. Not just that one piece, Alexia. He wants an entire series. Five, maybe seven pieces. All centered on the raw emotion you poured into "HATE.”
She stared at him, her mind trying to process his words. “You’re telling me... you took my painting without permission, showed it to a stranger, and now you expect me to be... what? Grateful?”
“I expect you to see the opportunity. You’ve been fighting for exposure, for a chance to show the world what you can do. This is it, Alexia. This is your chance.”
“And you thought taking my work, without asking, was the way to do that?”
“I thought taking action was the only way to get through to you,” Elliot admitted. “You’ve been holding yourself back, refusing to take risks because of everything you’ve been through. I didn’t do this to hurt you, I did it to help you.”
Alexia stared at him. “And what if I don’t want to be part of this?”
“Then I’ll pull the painting and cancel the whole thing. But Alexia, I think you know this is what you’ve been waiting for.”
Alexia took a step back, her mind spun as she considered his words, her pride clashing against the raw truth she couldn’t deny.
“And you think some stranger in a gallery is just going to... get it? Get why I painted it?”
“Not just some stranger,” Elliot said firmly. “The kind of people who will see your work are the ones who can actually appreciate it. Understand it. These aren’t hobbyists browsing a neighborhood art fair, Alexia. These are collectors, critics, people who can elevate your career to the level it deserves.”
“And you just decided that for me? That I needed elevating? God, Elliot, do you even hear yourself?”
“I hear myself. Do you hear yourself? I’m not the enemy here, Alexia. I’m trying to show you what’s possible.”
“At what cost, Elliot? You think exposure is going to fix everything? You think seeing my work in some glossy gallery is going to erase the fact that you stole it from me?”
“I think seeing your work in a gallery will remind you of who you are. Of what you’re capable of. You’ve spent so long being angry at me, at the world, that you’ve forgotten how to fight for yourself. That painting... it’s your fight. And the world needs to see it.”
“And what happens when this curator decides I’m just another one-hit wonder? That my anger is a gimmick?”
Elliot’s gaze softened, his voice quieter now. “Then you prove them wrong. Because I’ve seen what you can do, Alexia. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And I know this isn’t a gimmick. This is you.”
She looked away, her fingers twitching at her sides. She hated how his words got under her skin, how they forced her to confront truths she wasn’t ready to face.
“How long do I have to decide?”
Elliot’s lips curved into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “You’ve got two weeks. The gallery opens next month, but they need the pieces by the end of the month to prepare. I’ll leave it up to you. Completely.”
“Don’t expect me to thank you for this.”
“I don’t.”
Without another word, Alexia left his study.
Elliot stayed in the study long after Alexia had left, her words echoing in silence. “Damn you, Elliot!” He wasn’t sure if her anger was justified, or if it even mattered anymore. All that mattered was what came next.
Alexia returned to her studio, grounding her in the familiar chaos of her sanctuary. She sat on her stool, staring at the two pieces she’d been working on.
One was nearly done, and the second was more restrained, but no less powerful.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She glanced at the screen. Myra.
With a sigh, Alexia answered. “Hey.”
“I just got your text. Elliot did what?”
“He took my “HATE” painting and showed it to a curator without telling me, now he’s pushing me to create a series for some gallery exhibition.”
“Oh, my God. Wait. Are we mad about this, or are we celebrating?”
“Mad.”
“You don’t sound mad. You sound... conflicted.”
“I just... I… I don’t know, Myra. It’s an enormous opportunity… but I hate… I hate that he forced my hand. It’s like he’s always three steps ahead, pulling strings I didn’t ask for.”
“Okay, but let’s not get lost in the drama. This isn’t about Elliot. It’s about you, Alexia. Your work. Your talent. Do you want people to see it?”
“Yes, but...”
“Then stop overthinking. This is your moment. Don’t let your pride get in the way of something that could change your life.”
Alexia stared at the canvas in front of her. The colors stared back at her like a challenge, daring her to step into the spotlight she’d always craved but never reached for.
“You think I can pull it off?”
“I know you can. And deep down, so do you.”
As the call ended, Alexia sat in silence, and for the first time in a long while, a piece of her soul rested.
Elliot sat in his study, his eyes fixed on the crimson red jewelry set resting on his desk. It shimmered faintly in the lamplight. Alexia, don’t let your pride destroy this opportunity of a lifetime.
His phone buzzed. “Is it done?”
“Almost,” said the man on the other end of the line. “The gallery is on board, but I need confirmation on the pieces. Are you sure she’s ready for this?”
Elliot exhaled slowly. “She doesn’t need to know everything. Just keep it. I’ll handle her.”
“And if she finds out?”
“She won’t. Not yet.”
“You’re walking a fine line, Elliot. If this backfires...”
“I said I’ll handle it,” Elliot interrupted. “This is about her work, her future. Nothing else matters.”
As the call ended, his gaze drifted to the painting on the far wall—the one Alexia had given him years ago, a painting of them before everything fell apart.
For her... always.