The door's echo reverberated through the office, its finality lingering in Alex's chest. He stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides, his breath coming in shallow bursts. His father's words rang in his ears, each syllable dripping with venom: "Don't expect me to pick up the pieces."
He stared at the glass pane overlooking the city, the journalists still swarming below like vultures. The weight of it all pressed down on him - Victoria's lies, his father's ultimatum, Emma's fear.
For a moment, he considered walking out. Leaving it all behind. The legacy, the expectations, the empire that had become more of a prison than a privilege.
But then he thought of Emma. Of her strength in the face of adversity, her unwavering resolve to protect their child, and the way she looked at him like he could still be the man she believed in.
That was what mattered.
