Chapter 4 - Shadows in the PenthouseTwo weeks had passed since the aborted wedding, and while the tabloid frenzy had slowly shifted its gaze toward newer Hollywood scandals, the internal shockwaves within Ward Holdings were still being felt.
Genevieve Prescott’s bail had been set at five million dollars—an amount her family refused to post after discovering that Marcus Vance had already fled to a non-extradition island in the Caribbean, leaving her holding the legal bag for the entire multi-million-dollar embezzlement scheme.
Inside the penthouse atop the Ward Tower, the evening air was cool and crisp. Alex stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass panels, swirling a glass of bourbon. He wasn't drinking it; he was simply watching the amber liquid catch the reflection of the city lights.
A soft knock sounded at the private elevator foyer.
"Come in," Alex said without turning around.
The private elevator doors slid open, and Lucia stepped out. She was holding a thick manila folder stamped with red forensic seals. Over the past fortnight, she had thrown herself into her new role with a fierce, quiet intelligence that had continuously astonished Alex’s executive team. She had cross-referenced old vendor invoices from Rosewood Manor and uncovered a secondary layer of financial skimming that Genevieve had been running through the estate’s catering contracts for over a year.
"You're working too late," Alex said, turning to face her.
"I could say the exact same thing to you," Lucia replied, walking over and placing the folder on the minimalist marble coffee table. "The forensic audit on the Rosewood caterers is complete. They were billing us for premium organic truffles while serving standard domestic mushrooms. The difference was funneled into a joint account in the Cayman Islands."
Alex picked up the folder, flipped through the first few pages, and let out a dry breath. "She was thorough. I’ll give her that. She treated my entire life like an investment portfolio to be liquidated."
"She didn't understand what she was stealing," Lucia said quietly, standing by the edge of the glass railing, looking out over the glittering expanse of Manhattan.
"What do you mean?"
"She thought she was stealing money, power, and real estate," Lucia said, turning her dark, expressive eyes toward him. "Those are just numbers on a screen, Mr. Ward—Alex. She never understood the foundation. You built this company from a secondhand laptop in Dayton because you had something to prove to a world that took everything away from you when your sister passed. Money is just armor. But armor doesn't keep you warm at night."
Alex felt the words strike a chord deep inside his chest—a place he hadn't allowed anyone to touch since he was twenty-two years old. He set his glass down on the table with a soft clink and walked slowly toward her.
"How do you know about my sister?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Everyone on the estate staff knows the history," Lucia said softly, holding her ground as he stopped just a foot away from her. "Not because they gossip, but because grief has a very distinct sound. You've been walking through your life like a ghost, Alex, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the next person to betray you. That’s why you almost married Genevieve. You wanted someone who matched your cynicism."
Alex stared at her, utterly disarmed. In all his years dealing with board members, politicians, and high-society sycophants, no one had ever looked past his billions, his suits, and his corporate empire to see the lonely, exhausted kid from Ohio still sitting behind that milk crate.
"And you?" Alex asked, his voice rough. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"
Lucia offered a small, gentle smile that reached her eyes, softening the sharp angles of the penthouse's cold modern architecture. "Because I’ve lived through real fear, Alex. I watched my husband spend his final six months fighting a cancer that drained every dollar we had, leaving me alone with a one-year-old child in a basement apartment in Queens. A billionaire CEO frowning in a penthouse doesn't scare me. You just needed someone brave enough to remind you that you're allowed to be happy."
Before Alex could answer, a small, sleepy voice drifted from the private hallway leading to the guest suites.
"Mommy?"
Both adults turned. Sofi stood at the edge of the rug, rubbing her large brown eyes with one hand while dragging Benny the rabbit by his threadbare ear with the other. She was wearing her oversized yellow pajamas adorned with little cartoon ducks.
Lucia instantly knelt down, opening her arms. "Sofi, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed? Did you have another bad dream?"
Sofi shook her head sleepily, walking straight past her mother and stopping right in front of Alex’s polished leather shoes. She looked up, blinking slowly against the bright city lights.
"Mr. Alex," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Can you read me a story tonight? My room doesn't have the yellow sun on the wall yet."
Alex looked down at the tiny girl. The cold, impenetrable fortress around his heart didn't just crack; it dissolved entirely. He dropped down to one knee—the exact same posture he had used in the Rosewood gardens weeks ago, but this time, there was no scandal, no cameras, and no fear.
"I can do better than that, Sofi," Alex said, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face. "Tomorrow, we are going to paint your entire room bright yellow. And every sun we paint on that wall is going to stay there forever."
May you like
Sofi yawned widely, nodded with complete toddler satisfaction, and unceremoniously leaned her head right against Alex’s tailored suit jacket, wrapping her small arms around his neck.
Lucia knelt beside them, her hand brushing against Alex’s shoulder as she helped guide the sleepy toddler. For the first time in ten years, Alexander Ward didn't feel like a man guarding a vault. He felt like a man who had finally come home.
