Chapter 2 - The Secret Behind the Divorce
Dorian killed the lights.
Alina stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Stay behind me.”
“No. Tell me what’s happening.”
The hallway outside suddenly erupted with movement.
Not gunfire.
Not shouting.
Orders.
Security personnel closing elevators. Nurses moving patients. Doors locking one after another.
Dorian crossed to the window and pulled the blind.
“Dorian.”
He turned.
For six months, Alina had begged him to tell her the truth.
Now she realized she might finally receive it.
And she was no longer certain she wanted it.
“There’s a man named Viktor Soren,” Dorian said.
She recognized the surname.
Everyone did.
The Sorens and the Cross family had been enemies before Alina was born.
“What does he want?”
“Me.”
“Then why am I involved?”
Dorian’s silence answered.
Alina felt cold.
“Because I’m your wife.”
“Yes.”
“And the divorce?”
“I believed making you publicly separate from me would remove your value as leverage.”
Her eyes widened.
“You destroyed our marriage as a security strategy?”
“I tried to create distance.”
“You stopped speaking to me.”
“Yes.”
“You moved out of our bedroom.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“You made me believe you stopped loving me.”
“That was never the plan.”
Alina laughed once, without humor.
“Well, congratulations. You were extremely convincing.”
He stepped closer.
“Alina—”
“No.”
Three knocks sounded.
Dorian instantly moved between her and the door.
“Cross.”
A voice answered.
“Marco. Clear.”
Dorian unlocked it.
A tall security chief entered.
“The man from the attorney’s building has been detained. He had photographs.”
Dorian’s face hardened.
“What photographs?”
Marco hesitated.
“Mrs. Cross.”
Alina’s stomach turned.
“Show me.”
Dorian said, “No.”
She rounded on him.
“Stop deciding.”
The words hit harder now.
Marco looked at Dorian.
Dorian finally nodded.
Marco handed her a phone.
There were photographs of Alina leaving restaurants.
Shopping.
Walking through the botanical gardens.
Entering her mother’s building.
And then—
A photograph from that morning.
The attorney’s office.
Another showed Dorian catching her when she nearly fell.
The final photograph had been enlarged.
Her hand rested over her stomach.
Beneath it was a message.
IF THERE IS AN HEIR, EVERYTHING CHANGES.
Alina stopped breathing.
Dorian took the phone from her.
His voice was quiet.
“They know.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“We only found out ten minutes ago.”
“They were already watching.”
The implications settled over the room.
The baby was not merely unexpected.
The baby was now a target.
Alina wrapped her arms around herself.
Dorian approached.
She stepped backward.
He stopped instantly.
That tiny act—respecting the distance—hurt almost as much as everything else.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“I believed ignorance protected you.”
“You promised me no secrets.”
“I know.”
“You promised you wouldn’t decide my life for me.”
“I know.”
“And then you did exactly that.”
His voice dropped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the last threat contained a photograph of you sleeping.”
Alina went still.
Dorian continued.
“It was taken inside our bedroom.”
Every trace of anger drained from her.
“What?”
“Someone entered our home.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
The timing hit her like a physical blow.
The beginning of the distance.
The security.
The separate bedroom.
Everything.
“I found the photograph on my desk the next morning,” Dorian said. “No broken locks. No alarm. No camera failure.”
“Someone inside?”
“Yes.”
“One of your people?”
“Yes.”
Alina stared at him.
“So you pushed me away.”
“I moved you to the east bedroom because it had an independent security system.”
“You told me you needed space.”
“I needed you behind reinforced doors.”
“You stopped touching me.”
His eyes darkened.
“Because whoever was watching needed to believe our marriage was dying.”
Her throat tightened.
“And the divorce?”
“The final step.”
She looked away.
“You should have trusted me.”
“I should have.”
“No excuse?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
Dorian had always possessed explanations.
Not excuses.
Now he offered neither.
“I was wrong,” he said.
Alina looked back.
“I thought I could protect you by making you hate me.”
“You succeeded.”
His expression barely changed.
But she saw the wound.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s the problem. I tried.”
A knock interrupted them.
Dr. Hale entered with an ultrasound technician.
The world became strangely ordinary again.
Medical equipment.
Gel.
A monitor.
Instructions.
Alina lay back.
Dorian remained several feet away.
“Would you like him closer?” the technician asked.
Alina hesitated.
Then nodded.
Dorian approached.
The screen flickered.
The technician adjusted the probe.
Then a rapid sound filled the room.
A heartbeat.
Alina’s eyes filled instantly.
Dorian stopped breathing.
The man who had faced violence without blinking stared at the monitor as though it contained the only thing in the universe capable of frightening him.
“There,” the technician said softly. “Strong heartbeat.”
Alina turned toward him.
Dorian’s eyes were wet.
He looked away.
That broke her.
She reached for his hand without thinking.
His fingers closed around hers.
For thirty seconds there were no enemies.
No divorce.
No secrets.
Only a tiny heartbeat and two people who had once loved each other enough to believe promises could protect them.
Then Marco entered.
“Dorian.”
Something in his voice ended the moment.
Dorian released Alina carefully.
“What?”
“We identified the man.”
“And?”
“He isn’t Soren’s.”
Dorian frowned.
“Then whose?”
Marco placed a photograph on the counter.
Alina looked.
The man in the image was familiar.
She had seen him at Christmas dinners.
At their wedding.
At Dorian’s father’s funeral.
“No,” she whispered.
Dorian stared at the photograph.
His expression turned to stone.
May you like
Marco spoke quietly.
“He works for your brother.”
