CHAPTER 130: STILL FURIOUS (II)

Aiden’s POV

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be beginning our descent shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."

My jaw clenched.

I didn’t need the reminder—I was already strapped in, hands curled tightly around the armrests, not from fear of flying, but from the seething storm inside me.

Then I heard the soft click of a buckle beside me.

She sat down.

Alexia.

The audacity. After everything—after lying to my face, denying what we both now knew she remembered—she had the nerve to come sit beside me like we were still... us.

I didn’t even glance her way. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up so fast the flight attendant flinched.

"Sir?" she asked.

"I’m changing seats," I muttered, brushing past.

Alexia said nothing. I didn’t care. Or maybe I cared too much, and that was the real problem.

I dropped into the farthest available seat in the cabin, slamming the belt in place like it was a restraint to keep me from turning back. My chest burned with hatred. Not just for her—for myself. For loving someone like her.

How could I have been such a fool?

And then... as we began to descend and the jet dipped slightly, I saw her from across the cabin. Her eyes were closed, face pale, her hands gripping the armrests.

She was scared.

Of course she was—she always got anxious during takeoffs and landings. I knew that. I’d been the one to calm her in the past, with whispered reassurances, gentle touches.

And now I had to bite the inside of my cheek just to stop myself from moving toward her.

Don’t you dare, Aiden.

But I was already leaning forward, watching her with that stupid protective instinct that just wouldn’t die. I wanted to hold her. To tell her she’d be okay.

What kind of masochist was I?

She’s a liar. A cruel, spoiled, manipulative liar. She tortured you in a past life and didn’t even have the guts to admit it when confronted.

I stayed in my seat. When the wheels hit the tarmac, I was the first one up.

***

The moment the door opened, I pushed past the flight crew and stormed down the stairs.

Tobias was waiting by the car, eyes scanning for us.

"Drive"

"And your wife Sir?" he asked.

"She’ll find her way," I snapped.

"But sir—"

"Tobias," I turned to him, cold and sharp. "Drive."

He hesitated for only a second before obeying. The engine roared to life, and as I settled into the back seat, I caught a glimpse of her stepping out of the jet behind me.

She looked around, confused... and then saw the car.

I didn’t even glance back. Didn’t give her a wave or a nod. Nothing.

And then the door shut.

Just before we pulled off, I saw her reach for the handle—too late.

Good.

Let her walk. Let her get a taste of what it’s like to be abandoned. Let her feel it.

Tobias glanced in the mirror, concern shadowing his features. "Sir, if I may—"

"No," I said. "Just drive."

He sighed but did as ordered. I leaned back in my seat, trying to ignore the guilt clawing at my chest like a parasite.

She had it coming. All of it.

"Where to, sir?" Tobias asked as we left the runway behind.

I stared out the window, jaw tight, the guilt and rage mixing in my bloodstream like oil and fire.

I wanted a distraction. No—I needed it.

"Drive to Liz’s," I said.

Tobias didn’t reply right away. He knew what that meant. Hell, he probably wanted to protest. But one glance at me in the mirror must’ve told him I wasn’t in the mood for any backtalk.

"Yes, sir," he said, and turned down the freeway toward the penthouse.

My mind raced the whole ride there, even though the city blurred by like a silent film outside the window. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About Alexia. Her pale face during descent. The way she reached for the car door just a second too late. The look that might’ve flickered in her eyes.

Fear? Desperation? Regret?

No. Fuck her regret. She should’ve thought of that before she lied. Before she toyed with me. Before she ever opened her mouth and acted like she didn’t know exactly who she was.

And I hated myself more than her for still thinking about her.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped into the cool, dimly lit hallway. Liz’s door was already cracked open, and I could hear the soft hum of music playing inside—one of those lo-fi jazz playlists she always put on when she was trying to "vibe."

She appeared in the doorway as soon as I approached, barefoot, in one of her oversized satin shirts that barely reached her thighs.

"Well, well," she said, arching a brow. "You show up out of nowhere, don’t call, don’t text... What’s the occasion?"

"I needed to clear my head," I muttered, stepping inside.

She smirked, shutting the door behind me. "You’ve got that stormy-broody look on your face. Trouble in paradise?"

I didn’t answer. Just headed straight to the liquor cabinet, poured myself a scotch, and downed it in one go.

She leaned against the couch, watching me closely. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

She crossed the room, her arms slipping gently around my shoulders. "Well, I know a few other things we could do that don’t involve talking..."

Her lips brushed my neck, slow and calculated.

And I didn’t stop her.

Not right away.

Her mouth found mine, soft and skilled, a kiss I might’ve enjoyed once. I kissed her back for a second. Maybe two. But then—

Nothing.

No spark. No heat. Just... nothing.

Not like Alexia. Not like when she kissed me—like she meant to consume every broken piece of me, like she saw the monster inside and wanted it anyway.

I pulled away, sudden and sharp.

Liz blinked. "What the hell?"

"I can’t," I said.

"Can’t, or won’t?"

I stepped back, raking a hand through my hair. "It’s not you. I just... remembered something. I have to go."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Right. Of course. Aiden Black: always good at disappearing."

I didn’t respond. I was already at the door, already calling William as I walked into the hall.

"Sir?" William answered immediately.

"Is she home?" I asked, skipping the greetings.

There was a pause. "No, sir. She hasn’t arrived."

I checked the time. 2:14 p.m.

"She’s probably just dragging her feet," I muttered, hanging up.

But I couldn’t shake the unease crawling under my skin.

Later That Evening – 6:47 p.m.

I called again.

"Still no sign of her, sir," William said.

I cursed under my breath, pacing the floor of my office. I didn’t care. I didn’t. I just needed her back for appearances—for the fucking contract.

I grabbed my phone again.

"Tobias," I said the second he picked up. "Find her."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Check the airport, surrounding blocks. Anywhere she might’ve walked. I don’t care what you have to do. I have to protect this marriage for one more month—make sure she’s not out there doing something stupid and ruining it for both of us."

"...Understood."

I tossed the phone on the desk and slumped into the chair behind it.

Home – 9:00 p.m.

She still hadn’t come back.

Tobias hadn’t called either. I assumed that meant no sign of her.

Fine.

She made her bed—let her lie in it.

I told William he could go to bed, but I stayed up.

Not because I was waiting.

No.

Just because... someone needed to make sure the front door was locked.

****

The clock glared back at me. 12:08 a.m.

I was still up.

Still waiting.

Still pissed.

The scotch in my glass had long gone warm, untouched since I poured it nearly an hour ago. I sat in the living room, one leg bouncing, elbow on the armrest, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Where the hell was she?

I shouldn’t have cared. I didn’t care. This wasn’t about concern—it was about appearance. Optics. The stupid contract. I had to play the part of the doting husband for one more month to get what was rightfully mine.

So why the hell was my gut twisting like this?

She was probably wandering around somewhere, clueless as ever. God forbid she use her brain for once. What kind of grown woman can’t navigate her way home from a fucking airport? It’s not like I dumped her in the middle of nowhere.

Then again... she did have her bag.

a phone.

and money.

I stood, pacing. One hand raked through my hair while the other curled into a fist at my side.

Tobias should’ve found her by now. I had half a mind to call him again, to demand he comb every street corner until she was dragged back by her hair.

But I didn’t.

Because I was trying not to be that kind of man.

Still, with every tick of the clock, the worry slithered in deeper, getting under my skin like a splinter I couldn’t ignore.

Damn it, maybe it was a bad idea leaving her at the airport. Maybe I’d gone too far this time. Maybe she really was lost—hurt even. The thought made my stomach turn, which only made me angrier.

Why did she always do this? Get under my skin, dig into the parts of me I swore were dead and buried?

I hated it.

I hated her.

And hated myself more for caring.

The silence of the villa pressed in around me. I stood in the center of the living room, unmoving, like a damn idiot frozen in time.

Then—

A knock.

Soft. Unsteady. Like it barely had the strength to land.

I froze.

My heart thudded once, loud and jarring.

Then it knocked again—barely there.

I stormed toward the door, anger igniting like a fuse.

She had some nerve. Making me wait. Making me worry. Making me—

I yanked the door open, ready to unleash every ounce of fury pent up inside me—

But all of it died on my tongue.

Alexia stood there, swaying, a hollow look in her eyes. Her hair was wild, caked with dirt and dried leaves. Her clothes were torn, stained, barely clinging to her body. She smelled like trash—no, worse. Like she’d slept in trash. Her skin was pale, lips trembling, and then I saw it—

The blood running down her leg.

A bite mark. Red. Angry. Swollen.

"Alexia—"

She collapsed.

I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the marble floor.

And for the first time that night, I felt fear.

Real fear.