Alexander Sinclair had always prided himself on his impeccable taste and love for the finer things in life. His most prized possession was his sleek, limited-edition supercar—a vehicle so exclusive that only a handful existed in the world. Valued at over ten million dollars, it was a symbol of his status, power, and unyielding control over his world. Yet, despite all this, Emily had never once had the honor of being driven in it. In fact, Alexander had made it clear that this car was off-limits to her. On the rare occasion she even brushed against it, she was met with scathing remarks and venomous insults, cutting her deeper than any physical blow could.
Emily, in her boundless love and hope, had always forgiven him. She convinced herself that one day, he would see her worth, that one day, he would treat her with the same care he lavished on his beloved car. But that day never came.
Today, Alexander was driving that very car to the airport, its engine purring like a beast awaiting release. He was on his way to pick up Vanessa King, his first love and the woman who had haunted his thoughts for years. Vanessa had returned from abroad, her marriage in tatters after a tumultuous divorce. The news of her failed marriage rekindled something in Alexander—a twisted hope that perhaps now, they could be together again. Emily's devotion and their recent marriage were all but forgotten in his mind as he sped toward Vanessa, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dark anticipation.
Alexander pulled up to the curb at the airport, his supercar gleaming under the streetlights. The roar of the engine quieted as he turned off the ignition, his pulse quickening in anticipation. The automatic doors slid open, and Vanessa King stepped out, her presence commanding attention. Her dark hair fell in sleek waves around her shoulders, and her red lips curved into a smile that sent a jolt of nostalgia through him. She was just as he remembered—breathtaking and untouchable.
"Alexander," Vanessa purred, sliding into the passenger seat with practiced elegance. She ran her manicured fingers over the leather interior, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Still driving the finest, I see."
"Only the best," Alexander replied, his voice laced with pride. "For special occasions."
Vanessa arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Special occasions? So, picking me up is a special occasion now?"
Alexander gave her a sidelong glance, a grin playing on his lips. "It always has been, Vanessa."
Their banter felt effortless, and for a moment, Alexander was transported back to the days when their relationship was the center of his world. But those days were long gone, replaced by years of longing and regret. He pushed those thoughts aside as he navigated the car through the city streets, the neon lights casting colorful reflections across the windshield.
"So," Vanessa began, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, "I heard you finally settled down. How's married life treating you, Alex?"
The question caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly, keeping his voice neutral. "It's fine. Emily's...devoted."
Vanessa's laughter was light but tinged with derision. "Devoted? That's a funny way to describe your wife."
Alexander tightened his grip on the steering wheel, choosing his words carefully. "She's good to me. Always there when I need her."
"How convenient," Vanessa remarked, her gaze drifting out the window. "But I have to wonder, Alexander...is she really what you wanted? Or just what you settled for?"
The question hit him harder than he expected. Before he could respond, Vanessa continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "I know about the divorce," she said, almost as an afterthought. "You must have heard by now."
Alexander's heart skipped a beat. He had suspected, but hearing it confirmed left him breathless. "I heard," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "I'm sorry things didn't work out."
Vanessa shrugged, feigning indifference. "It was inevitable. We were too different, wanted different things. But you know all about that, don't you? About wanting what you can't have."
Alexander's throat tightened. He felt the old wounds opening up, the same ones Vanessa had inflicted years ago. "Maybe," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. When they arrived at the bar, the mood shifted. The atmosphere inside was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the tension in the car. They found a secluded booth, away from prying eyes, and ordered drinks.
As the night wore on, they slipped into a familiar rhythm—flirting, teasing, and reminiscing about the past. The alcohol loosened their tongues, and Alexander found himself laughing more than he had in years. Vanessa was intoxicating in more ways than one, and he couldn't help but be drawn back into her orbit.
But Vanessa had more than nostalgia on her mind. As she sipped her cocktail, she turned the conversation back to Alexander's marriage. "Tell me, Alex," she began, her voice honeyed but with a sharp edge. "What does your little wife think about you being here with me?"
Alexander leaned back, the alcohol giving him a false sense of bravado. "She trusts me. She doesn't ask questions."
Vanessa's lips curved into a sly smile. "How convenient," she repeated. "But what if she did? What if she knew you were here, with your ex-lover, reliving old times?"
Alexander shrugged, playing it off. "She wouldn't understand. She doesn't know us, doesn't know our history."
"Does she know anything, Alex?" Vanessa asked, her tone turning serious. "Or is she just there to fill the void?"
The question hung in the air, and Alexander felt a pang of guilt, one he quickly pushed aside. "Emily's... she's a good woman," he said, though the words felt hollow. "But you and I... we had something different. Something real."
Vanessa's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Then why did you let me go?"
Alexander swallowed hard. The truth was, he didn't have an answer that would satisfy either of them. He had let her go, and in doing so, had lost a part of himself. But he couldn't admit that—not now, not ever.
Instead, he leaned in, trying to close the distance between them. "Maybe it's not too late," he suggested, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe we can still have that."
Vanessa's laughter was soft, almost pitying. She placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. "Maybe," she whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief. "But you're married now, Alex. And I'm not the kind of woman to share."
The rejection stung, but Alexander was too far gone to stop now. He reached for his phone, an idea forming in his mind. "Hang on," he said, dialing Emily's number. When she answered, her voice soft and concerned, he felt a strange mix of emotions—guilt, shame, but also a twisted satisfaction.
"Emily, I'm not feeling well," he said, his tone deliberately weak. "Can you go out and get me some medicine? I really need it."
Vanessa watched him with a bemused expression as Emily's voice came through the line, full of worry. "Of course, Alexander. I'll go right now. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine," he assured her, glancing at Vanessa with a smirk. "Just get the medicine and come back as soon as you can."
When he hung up, Vanessa was smiling, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew exactly what game they were playing. "You really are something, Alex," she said, shaking her head. "Poor girl. She has no idea, does she?"
"She doesn't need to," Alexander replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, a part of him felt hollow, knowing that he had just manipulated Emily once again, all for the approval of a woman who had never truly loved him.
As the night wore on, they continued to drink, to laugh, to pretend that the years hadn't changed anything. But deep down, Alexander knew that something had shifted—both in his relationship with Vanessa and in himself. And when he finally stumbled back home, the emptiness that greeted him was a reminder of everything he had lost, and everything he had yet to lose.