Chapter 2 - Alexander Kane Took Me to His Mansion, Where His Mother Saw My Bruises and Immediately Knew I Was LyingThe Kane residence wasn't really a house.
It was a fortress.
Black iron gates opened before the convoy reached them.
Security cameras followed every vehicle.
Men stood beneath covered walkways.
I saw at least six guards before we reached the front door.
Alexander carried me inside.
The mansion was enormous.
Marble floors.
Dark wood.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A staircase that looked like it belonged in a museum.
I stared.
"I can't stay here."
"You can."
"I don't belong here."
"Neither do I."
I looked at him.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
A woman came rushing down the stairs.
She was in her sixties.
Elegant.
Silver hair.
Warm eyes.
"Alexander!"
He stopped.
"Mother."
She looked at me.
Then at him.
"What happened?"
"She collapsed."
His mother immediately approached.
"Put her on the sofa."
Alexander obeyed.
A doctor arrived within minutes.
He examined me.
"Severe exhaustion. Dehydration. Low blood sugar."
His mother frowned.
"When did you last eat properly?"
I looked away.
Alexander answered.
"Two days ago."
The doctor looked shocked.
His mother looked furious.
Not at me.
At whoever had allowed me to reach this condition.
"You'll stay tonight."
I shook my head.
"I can't."
She sat beside me.
"Sweetheart."
I looked at her.
"You can."
Something about her voice reminded me of my grandmother.
I almost cried.
She noticed.
She didn't ask why.
She simply took my hand.
Then her eyes fell on my wrist.
The bruises were visible again.
Her expression changed.
"Who did this?"
I couldn't speak.
Alexander stood behind her.
His face had become stone.
His mother looked at him.
"Alexander."
"I know."
She turned back to me.
"You don't have to tell us everything tonight."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"Thank you."
Alexander walked toward the window.
His phone rang.
He answered.
"Talk."
A voice spoke.
His expression hardened.
"Find Ryan Turner."
I froze.
My head snapped toward him.
"How do you know his name?"
Alexander slowly turned.
"You said it while you were unconscious."
My stomach dropped.
"Don't."
He approached.
"I need to know who I'm dealing with."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because he'll hurt you."
Alexander's expression became frighteningly calm.
"That isn't your decision."
I stood.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
"He's dangerous."
"So am I."
I stared at him.
For the first time, I realized what people had been whispering about.
Alexander Kane.
The mafia boss.
The man nobody challenged.
The man who didn't raise his voice because he never needed to.
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And somehow, he had decided my bruises mattered.
That frightened me more than anything.
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