The heavy door to Alexander's private room slid open with a low hiss, revealing a smaller, pitch-black chamber. The walls were padded, the floor lined with industrial-grade mats, and the air was cool and sterile. This was his sanctuary—a place where he could vent the uncontrollable rage that simmered within him.
Without a moment's hesitation, he walked to the center of the room, stripped off his shirt, and began punching the reinforced punching bag that hung ominously from the ceiling. Each strike was a release, his fists connecting with brutal precision, sending echoes of force reverberating through the space.
How dare they? His jaw clenched tighter with each punch. How dare those filthy Wallaces treat her like she was nothing?
Sweat trickled down his forehead as he continued his assault on the bag, his muscles rippling with each blow. He wasn't just angry—he was furious. The thought of Anna, shivering on the floor and believing herself unworthy of basic comfort, ignited a fire in him that he couldn't extinguish. She had been discarded, mistreated, and stripped of her dignity, all because of those monsters who were supposed to protect her.
He stepped back, breathing heavily, and grabbed his phone from the small table near the door. Dialing quickly, his icy blue eyes narrowed as he waited for the call to connect.
"Mr. Voss," came the hurried voice on the other end.
"Find out everything about Anna Wallace," Alexander barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I want to know how she's lived, where she's been, and what those scum she calls family have done to her. I want every single detail on the Wallace family by morning. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," the voice replied, trembling slightly.
Alexander hung up without another word, his jaw still tight. He tossed the phone aside and flexed his hands, noticing the redness and slight swelling from his punches. Shaking his head, he walked to the small sink in the corner of the room and rinsed his hands under cold water.
His mind wouldn't stop racing. No amount of punching or pacing could rid him of the image of Anna, fragile and broken, yet still thanking him for allowing her to stay.
After drying his hands, he left the room, his strides purposeful as he made his way back to her. The hallway was silent, the rain outside finally giving way to an eerie stillness. When he reached her door, he pushed it open gently, not wanting to startle her.
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. His sharp eyes immediately found her on the bed, curled into a tight ball beneath the thick duvet he had given her. But even with the warmth, she was still shivering, her small frame trembling like a leaf caught in a winter breeze.
Alexander frowned. The heater must not have been enough. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and turned on the bedside lamp, the soft light illuminating her pale, tear-streaked face. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips moved ever so slightly as if she were speaking in her sleep.
He adjusted the heater, ensuring it was set to the highest setting before pulling off his shoes and climbing into the bed beside her. The mattress dipped under his weight, but she didn't stir.
Sliding closer, Alexander hesitated for a brief moment before wrapping an arm around her trembling form, pulling her against his chest. His body radiated warmth, and he felt her tense slightly before relaxing as his heat enveloped her.
"Relax," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Her shivering began to subside, her breathing evening out as she instinctively leaned into his warmth. Her small hands clutched the edge of the duvet, and her head rested against his chest, her soft breaths brushing against his skin.
Alexander felt something unfamiliar stir within him—a strange protectiveness that he couldn't explain. She was so small, so fragile, and yet, even in her broken state, she carried a quiet strength.
Suddenly, she mumbled something, her voice barely audible.
"Please… don't take my parents' things," she whispered, her tone laced with fear and pain. "They're all I have left."
Alexander froze, his chest tightening as her words sank in.
"Uncle… Auntie… please, I'll do anything. Just don't sell them," she continued, her voice trembling. "I'll be good. I promise…"
His jaw clenched, his hand instinctively tightening around her. So, they took everything from her, he thought bitterly. Not just her home, but her memories, her family's legacy.
She shifted slightly, her face scrunching up as if caught in a nightmare. "I'm not a burden," she murmured, her voice breaking. "I can be useful… please don't throw me away."
Alexander closed his eyes, his emotions warring within him. He had heard enough. He couldn't imagine what kind of hell she had endured, but one thing was certain: those responsible would pay dearly.
He leaned down slightly, his lips close to her ear. "You're not a burden, Anna," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "And no one will ever throw you away again."
She didn't respond, her breathing steady as she remained in a deep sleep. But Alexander could feel her relax further, as if his words had reached her subconscious.
For the rest of the night, he stayed by her side, holding her close as the heater and his body heat combined to chase away the lingering cold. The quiet room felt almost peaceful now, a stark contrast to the chaos that had brought them together.
As the first rays of dawn began to break through the curtains, Alexander's resolve hardened. He would uncover the truth about Anna's past, and he would make sure she never had to live in fear or pain again.
She didn't know it yet, but her life had just changed forever. And Alexander Voss would be the one to ensure she never suffered another day.