"Can I leave now?" asked Alexander, his voice flat as he looked down at Elizabeth Collins, who was busy organizing her legal documents.

Due to her dismissive, arrogant attitude earlier, Alexander had lost interest in destroying the Sinclair family—at least through this formal, bureaucratic route. He still had deep conflicts with them, considering everything that had happened with Isabella. However, after the recent situation with Aria, a lingering doubt had begun to form in his mind. He was no longer sure if the Sinclairs were the ones looking for trouble, or if there was a hidden hand behind the scenes pulling the strings.

"I’ll inform you if we require your presence here again," said Elizabeth without looking up, her tone cool and detached.

She had no intention of keeping him around any longer either. His blunt lack of respect in the corridor had left a bitter taste in her mouth, generating a deep sense of annoyance. Initially, she had planned to use him as a critical, central piece to secure her victory, but looking at the undeniable server logs in her possession, she realized his testimony wouldn’t even be necessary to crush the defense.

Alexander stood up without another word, turning his back on the courtroom and walking out toward the underground parking structure.

As he made his way down the concrete ramp, the lead defense attorney for the Sinclair family stepped out from behind a pillar, smoothing his tie as he intercepted him.

"Mr. Alexander, a moment please," said the lawyer, raising his hand. "Mr. Arthur Sinclair would like to have a private word with you."

"Sure," said Alexander, stopping in his tracks. "Where is he?"

The attorney turned, pointing toward a sleek, black limousine parked a few dozen meters away in the VIP section, its tinted windows rolled up.

"If he wants to talk to me, tell him to get his ass out of the car and come find me himself," said Alexander, a cold smirk touching his lips.

He ignored the lawyer’s stunned expression and walked toward his Tahoe, pulling out his keys.

"Young man, I understand your impetus," said the attorney following behind him, his voice laced with a paternal, warning tone. "But in this world, it is always better to be a little more reasonable. Stubbornness can be a terminal affliction."

"If you’re trying to give me advice, you’re a few years too late," said Alexander, opening the driver’s side door and climbing inside. "See you around."

He slammed the door shut, turned the key, and the Tahoe’s engine roared to life. Alexander shifted into reverse, backed out of the space, and tore out of the parking garage at full speed, the tires squealing against the concrete.

The defense attorney sighed, adjusting his jacket before walking back to the luxury limousine. He opened the rear door and slipped into the plush leather interior, where Arthur and Stella were waiting.

"He refused to step over," said the lawyer, shaking his head. "The boy is arrogant. He told me that if you wanted to talk, you should go look for him."

"Why are we even wasting our time talking to a cockroach like him?" snapped Stella, her face twisting into a furious scowl as she looked at her father. "Just have him killed, Dad! Put a price on his head and end this joke today!"

"Shut up, Stella," snapped Arthur Sinclair, his voice vibrating with authority as he glared at his daughter. "We cannot touch him right now. If that man disappears or turns up dead at this exact moment, it would be the equivalent of us openly accepting all the blame for this situation. The tribunal would lock onto us, and we would be investigated for his disappearance."

Arthur might have been furious about the setback in court, but he was no novice to the game of power. He knew exactly when to strike, and more importantly, when the optics of a murder would destroy his empire.

His phone buzzed on the dashboard console. He glanced down, seeing a secure notification from the TMC internal network. It wasn’t a message from Julian or Elizabeth, but an automated update tracking the logistical movements of the regional enforcement units.

Alexander ignored it, steering the SUV toward the medical center. He had promised Jessica he would meet her at the hospital to check on Ashley.

By the time he pulled into the hospital’s secure parking lot, the sky had begun to turn a metallic gray, threatening rain. He killed the engine, stepping out into the cool air and locking the vehicle behind him.

As he walked through the sliding glass doors of the main entrance, the sterile smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol hit his nose. He adjusted the collar of his suit jacket, heading for the elevators. The domestic warmth from that morning—Jessica cooking in nothing but an apron, the slow, wet friction of their bodies intertwining before the chaos of the day—felt miles away now.

"Alexander," whispered Jessica, her eyes snapping open the moment she felt his shadow fall over her. A soft, genuine smile broke through her tired expression as she stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You actually came."

"I told you I would," said Alexander, wrapping one large arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume that still lingered despite the hospital air. "How is she doing?"

"She’s sleeping right now," said Jessica, tilting her head up to look at him, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his lapel. "The doctors said her vitals are stable. She just needs rest. How did the hearing go?"

"The judges gave them three days," said Alexander, his voice dropping into a low, detached rumble. "Their lawyers are scrambling, but Elizabeth has them dead to rights on the evidence. It’s just a matter of time before the trap snaps shut."

He looked past her through the small glass window of the private room, watching the steady rise and fall of the young woman’s chest under the white blankets.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Ashley?" asked Alexander.

"No, I didn’t dare to wake her," whispered Jessica, a faint, worried sigh escaping her lips as she glanced at her daughter through the glass. "By the time I got here, she was already fast asleep. With how rebellious and stubborn she usually is, I figured it was best to just let her rest while she’s actually being quiet."

Alexander nodded, wondering just how much of her mother’s wild streak she had inherited.