He needed to endure this.
He needed to see how deep the corruption went in the woman he shared his bed with.
At that moment, the door opened timidly.
It was Elena Morales, the young housekeeper. Her blue uniform was clean but worn. In her arms she carried Lucas, one of the twins, while holding the hand of Matthew, the other. The boys—children from Alexander’s first marriage—stared at the scene with frightened eyes.
“Sir… I’m sorry,” Elena whispered, lowering her head, trying to disappear. “I heard yelling. The boys were scared. They wanted to see their dad.”
Victoria spun around like a striking cobra.
“Who gave you permission to enter?” she snapped, hurling her glass against the wall where it shattered. “Get those brats out of my sight! They stink of poverty. I told you—I don’t want Alexander’s kids wandering into my bedroom.”
Elena instinctively stepped back, shielding the boys with her body as shards of glass scattered across the floor.
“Ma’am, please,” she said, her voice trembling but dignified. “Mr. Harrington needs rest. If you want to yell, do it outside—but respect his pain.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
From his bed, Alexander felt his throat tighten. Elena—who earned barely above minimum wage and sent most of it to her sick mother—was defending him like a lioness, while his wife planned to discard him like trash.
Victoria stepped closer, invading Elena’s space, spitting each word into her face.
“The notary is coming at nine tomorrow. Once this useless man signs over control of the offshore accounts, you and these kids are out on the street. Enjoy your last night under this roof.”
She slammed the door so hard the windows shook.
Elena exhaled shakily and rushed to Alexander’s bedside. She gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, adjusting his pillow. “I won’t let them hurt you. Even if I have to sell food on the street, you and the boys will never go hungry. I swear it on my life.”
Alexander looked at her.
He wanted to scream that he heard her. That everything was a test—an elaborate trap to expose the truth. But it wasn’t time yet.
What neither of them knew was that Victoria had no intention of waiting until morning.
As she descended the staircase, she pulled out her phone, smiling darkly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she purred. “Come now. Bring the crooked notary. We’re not waiting till dawn. We’ll force his signature tonight… and then we get rid of him and the kids for good.”
Thirty minutes later, the Harrington mansion became a nightmare.
Richard Cole, Alexander’s business partner—and Victoria’s secret lover—stormed into the bedroom with a sweating, visibly nervous notary.
“Well, well,” Richard mocked, leaning over Alexander. “Time for early retirement.”
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