CHAPTER 74: A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST

Aiden’s POV:

How the hell can she be mad when she was the one at fault?

She clearly skipped school—the one damn thing I asked of her. After I paid off her studies, after I gave her a future she wouldn’t have had otherwise. Hell, if not for me, she’d be a waitress in some rundown diner, scraping by with tips and struggling to make rent. But no—I dressed her in the latest designer pieces, fed her like a damn queen, and made sure she had everything she could ever need.

And what did I ask for in return?

Not love. Not loyalty. Just cooperation. All she had to do was pretend—pretend to be a good, loving wife in front of the world. Smile when the cameras were on. Hold my hand when necessary. Say the right things at the right time.

But no. Alexia had to be difficult.

I watched as she stormed into the house, not sparing me a single glance. William, who had opened the door at the sound of my car pulling up, looked startled as she brushed past him, disappearing inside without a word.

And there I stood, frozen on the porch, fists clenched, pulse pounding in my ears.

How the hell did I ever think marrying her was a good idea?

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair, trying to rein in my temper before I broke something. Or worse—before I went after her. Because right now, the urge to drag her back and make her listen to me was overwhelming.

She would understand.

She had to understand.

This marriage wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity. For both of us.

And if she kept testing me, pushing my limits... she was going to find out exactly what happened when I ran out of patience.

I stormed into the house, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. William had the sense to step aside as I passed him, his old, knowing eyes watching me with something close to pity. As if he already knew what was coming.

Alexia was in the living room, standing by the couch with her arms crossed, looking like she was waiting for a fight.

Good.

Because she was about to get one.

"You better have a damn good excuse for skipping school today," I said, my voice low, controlled—but barely.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes like a spoiled brat. "Oh, please. Spare me the lecture, husband.

I’m sure Liz got plenty of attention today. You didn’t even notice I wasn’t in class until you had to pick me up."

I took a slow step forward. "Do not bring Liz into this."

"Oh, but why not?" She threw her arms up dramatically. "Saint Elizabeth—the woman who can do no wrong in your eyes. The one you abandoned me for last night. But God forbid I spend a few hours with Mike, right? That’s just unacceptable."

I clenched my fists. "Mike is not your concern."

"And Liz isn’t yours!" she shot back.

The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.

I took another step, close enough now that I could see the defiance in her eyes. "Let me remind you of something, wife. This marriage? It exists for a reason. A reason you agreed to. You get to live in luxury, you get your education, and all you have to do is follow a few simple rules. But instead, you’re out skipping class, running around with my friend like some reckless teenager. If you ruin the image of this marriage, you won’t like the consequences."

She laughed. Laughed. Like I was some joke to her. "Oh please, Aiden. What are you going to do? Lock me in a tower?"

I exhaled sharply through my nose, stepping even closer, forcing her to look up at me. "Try me."

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. Her chin lifted in defiance, eyes blazing with challenge. "You don’t own me, Aiden. You may have bought yourself a wife, but that doesn’t mean you control my every move."

I smirked, but there was nothing warm in it. "You think you have a choice in this?" I leaned down, my voice dropping into a whisper. "You don’t."

She swallowed hard, but the fire in her eyes didn’t dim. If anything, it burned brighter.

I could feel the tension crackling between us like electricity. Anger. Frustration. Something else, something dangerous.

I didn’t trust myself to stay in the same room with her any longer. Not when my anger was barely contained, not when every word out of her mouth made me want to either shake some sense into her or... No. I wasn’t even going to think about the alternative.

I turned on my heel and strode toward my study, slamming the door behind me before locking it. I needed space. Distance. Anything to stop myself from marching back out there and saying something I couldn’t take back.

My hands were still clenched into fists as I exhaled sharply, trying to calm the raging storm inside me. I didn’t understand her. How could someone be so reckless, so ungrateful? I gave her everything—food, shelter, education—hell, I gave her a life people dreamed of. And what did she do? She threw it back in my face.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the room. The more I thought about it, the more it infuriated me.

She had one job. One simple role to play—be the perfect wife in public, keep up appearances, and in return, she got the world handed to her on a silver fucking platter. But instead, she skipped school, ran off with Mike, and didn’t even care

how that made me look.

And Mike.

That bastard.

My jaw tightened as I thought about how comfortable they had looked together, laughing like they didn’t have a single worry in the world. Like they weren’t making a fool out of me.

I slammed my palm against the desk, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

Mike knew better. He knew what this marriage meant to my plans. Was he trying to get back at me? Was this his way of proving a point—that if he couldn’t have Liz, he’d take something of mine instead?

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Alexia was mine.

At least for the next six months.

And whether she liked it or not, she was going to play her role properly.

******

The pounding in my head was relentless. A sharp, splitting pain that made my temples throb with every frustrated thought racing through my mind. I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling harshly as I slumped onto the leather sofa in my study. My body felt heavy, exhaustion creeping in now that the anger was settling into something else—something I didn’t want to name.

I closed my eyes, just for a second.

And then—

I wasn’t in my study anymore.

I was small. Barefoot. My clothes were tattered, hanging loosely around my frame. The air smelled of fresh hay and dirt, the sun casting a golden hue over the stable yard. My stomach growled, a deep, aching hunger twisting inside me.

Across from me, standing tall in a crisp, elegant riding dress, was her.

Princess Alexia.

I don’t know why I called her that, but I did.

She was younger too, her hair tied in neat braids, her arms crossed over her chest in a pout. She was scowling at me, her big, expressive eyes filled with petulant annoyance.

"Can I eat now?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, though my stomach begged otherwise. "I did all my work. I took care of your horses. Fed them. Cleaned their stalls."

Princess Alexia narrowed her eyes at me. "No."

I frowned. "No? Why?"

She tossed her head, nose slightly upturned, the picture of childish arrogance. "Because I fell off my horse today. And you laughed at me."

I blinked.

A small smirk tugged at my lips. "Well... you did look funny."

Her cheeks flushed in outrage. "It wasn’t funny!"

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. Of course she’d hold onto something so trivial. Of course, she’d use it as an excuse to punish me.

My stomach growled again, but I didn’t argue. I had learned a long time ago that arguing with her got me nowhere.

So, I turned away, ignoring the ache in my gut, ignoring the way she watched me with something unreadable in her gaze.

And then—

I was back.

My eyes snapped open. The soft glow of my desk lamp filled the room. The air smelled of leather and whiskey, not hay and dirt.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face.

What the hell was that?

A dream? A memory?

No. It was nonsense. A stupid, weird vision brought on by stress and exhaustion.

I shook my head, a dry chuckle escaping my lips.

"What the fuck was that?"

I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head as I rubbed my temples. Alexia as a princess and me as her servant? Good lord, the things my mind could conjure up.

The headache still throbbed behind my eyes, the weight of frustration pressing down on me like a vice. I leaned back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling as the strange vision replayed in my mind.

I was small. Ragged. Starving.

She stood before me, dressed in fine silks, her hair braided with ribbons, looking down at me like I was nothing more than a stray dog.

"Can I eat now, Princess? I took care of your horses like you asked."

But instead of gratitude, she had folded her arms, her lips twisting into a scowl.

"No. You’re not allowed to eat today."

I had frowned at her, confused, until she added with a huff, "I fell off my horse, and you laughed at me. That’s your punishment."

And damn it, in that vision—dream, hallucination, whatever the hell it was—I had laughed. I had thrown my head back, despite my hunger, despite my place, and laughed at her.

Like this was something we had done before. Like we had played this game of power and defiance a hundred times before.

I exhaled sharply, pulling myself out of it. What the hell was that?

A dream? A past life? No, that was ridiculous. I didn’t believe in fate or reincarnation.

I ran a hand through my hair, my jaw tightening.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I muttered.

Alexia as a princess and me as her servant.

What a joke.

And yet, why did it feel so damn real?