Chapter 6 – The Fiancée's Shadow
Point of View: Alexander Sterling
The city glittered beneath the Sterling Tower like a kingdom made of glass and secrets. From his office on the top floor, Alexander watched the rain paint streaks across the floor-to-ceiling windows. Each droplet caught the light of the skyline, fractured it — much like the thoughts that fractured inside his mind.
He had built this world — every empire, every number, every deal. Yet lately, he found his mind drifting not to profits or power, but to the soft hum of a woman's voice in the hallway, to the faint scent of jasmine that lingered after she passed. Bella. His maid.
It was absurd. He had met countless women, models, heiresses, politicians' daughters — yet none had undone him the way she did by simply existing. She moved quietly, almost invisible, her hands gentle yet efficient, her eyes lowered in modesty. But when she looked at him — when she dared — something inside him came undone.
Alexander exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. You're losing your mind.
He tried to focus on the reports spread across his desk. The numbers blurred. The company's expansion into Singapore, his mother's charity gala, Victoria's upcoming press appearance — it all merged into noise. His mother would not tolerate distractions, especially not from a woman of Bella's standing. Nor would Victoria. His fiancée had a talent for uncovering secrets, and lately, her gaze had been sharper than ever.
A soft knock broke through the storm of his thoughts.
"Come in," Alexander said, his tone clipped.
The door opened, and as if summoned by his forbidden thoughts, Bella stepped inside. She carried a tray with coffee and fresh flowers. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, a few strands falling loose around her face. There was something fragile yet enduring about her — like porcelain that refused to break.
"Good morning, Mr. Sterling," she said softly, her eyes briefly meeting his before lowering again.
"Morning," he murmured, watching her place the tray down. The simple grace of her movements fascinated him. When she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers twitched — a dangerous impulse to do it for her.
"Those are your mother's favorites," Bella said, nodding to the lilies on the tray. "She requested them for the dining room."
"Of course she did," Alexander muttered. His mother's obsession with perfection was legendary. Then, more quietly: "You arranged them yourself?"
She nodded, surprised by the question. "Yes, sir."
His gaze lingered a moment too long. "They're beautiful."
Color rose to her cheeks. "Thank you."
The air between them thickened — silent, charged, dangerous. He could hear the faint tick of the clock on the wall, could see the rain sliding down the glass like tears. He wanted to say something — anything — to break the spell, but before he could, another voice cut through the moment.
"Alex?"
He stiffened.
Victoria stood in the doorway, immaculate as ever — sleek black dress, diamond earrings, a perfect smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You didn't answer your phone," she said, gliding toward him. "I thought we could go over the guest list for the engagement gala."
Her gaze flicked to Bella, sharp and assessing. "You can go," Victoria said to her, voice laced with condescension.
Bella dipped her head quickly. "Yes, ma'am." She turned to leave, but not before Alexander caught the flicker of discomfort in her eyes. It hit him like a bruise.
When the door closed behind her, Victoria crossed her arms. "She's been spending a lot of time in your office lately."
"She works here," Alexander replied coolly.
"There are plenty of staff who work here. But she's the only one you seem to notice."
His jaw tightened. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" Victoria smiled — a cold, knowing curve of her lips. "Because I saw the way you looked at her just now."
He turned away, pacing toward the window. "You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being observant," she countered, her voice low and deliberate. "You have a habit of getting attached to things you shouldn't."
He spun around, eyes flashing. "Enough."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned between them — the kind that crackled before lightning struck. Then Victoria sighed, softening her tone. "I'm only saying this because I care, Alex. Your mother won't tolerate another scandal. Not with the wedding coming up."
He said nothing. His thoughts were still with Bella — her voice, her quiet strength, the way she made him feel human again in a life that demanded he be made of steel.
When Victoria finally left, her perfume lingered in the air, cloying and suffocating. He felt trapped — by duty, by family, by a future already mapped out for him. But underneath it all pulsed something alive, dangerous, and irresistible: desire.
That evening, as the mansion settled into silence, Alexander found himself walking through the dimly lit corridors. He told himself he was restless, that he needed air — but his steps led him inevitably to the staff quarters. He paused by the open doorway, where Bella stood folding linens, her movements rhythmic, her expression serene.
She didn't notice him at first. The sight of her in the soft lamplight, simple and unguarded, stirred something deep within him. For once, she wasn't the maid. She was just her — a woman who carried grace even in weariness.
"Bella."
She startled slightly, turning toward him. "Mr. Sterling — I didn't expect—"
"I was passing by," he lied smoothly. His voice was calm, but inside he felt like a man walking a tightrope over fire. "You've been working late."
"There's always more to do," she said quietly, a hint of exhaustion in her tone.
"You shouldn't overwork yourself."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "That's kind of you, sir, but I'm used to it."
He took a slow step closer. "You shouldn't have to be."
Their eyes met — and for a moment, everything else fell away: the mansion, the rules, the engagement ring waiting on his fiancée's hand. There was only the two of them, suspended in something fragile and forbidden.
"Mr. Sterling," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You shouldn't be here."
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I can't seem to stay away."
Her breath caught. "Someone could see."
"Then tell me to go," he said, his voice low. "Tell me, and I will."
But she didn't. The silence that followed was answer enough.
The days that followed blurred into a dangerous rhythm. Every glance, every accidental touch, every word exchanged carried a weight neither dared to name. Alexander found himself seeking her out, inventing reasons to call her to his office, lingering near her when he shouldn't. She became his quiet obsession — the one thing that broke through the ice he had built around his heart.
But shadows gathered at the edges of that fragile happiness. Victoria watched more closely now. His mother asked pointed questions. Even the staff whispered behind closed doors.
One evening, as he reviewed documents in his study, Victoria entered unannounced. Her smile was polished; her eyes were not.
"You've been distracted lately," she said, closing the door behind her. "Is there something I should know?"
"No," he replied without looking up.
She moved closer, her heels clicking against the marble. "I think there is. The maid, perhaps?"
His pen froze mid-sentence.
Victoria's smile widened — sharp as glass. "You think I don't see it? The way you look at her? I've known you long enough to recognize when you're lying to yourself."
"Victoria—"
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't insult me by pretending. You might be able to fool your mother, the press, even your board — but not me."
He rose slowly from his chair. "You're overstepping."
"Am I?" she whispered. "Because if you're going to throw away your future for a servant, you should at least be honest about it."
Anger flared in his chest. "You have no right—"
"Oh, I have every right," she cut in. "Because I've stood by you through everything. I've defended you when the world questioned you. And you repay me with this? With her?"
Her words struck deeper than he wanted to admit. He had never promised Victoria love — only partnership. But now he could see the bitterness in her eyes, the wounded pride.
She leaned closer, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "End it, Alexander. Before your mother finds out. Before I do something about it."
He watched her leave, heart pounding. The threat in her tone wasn't empty. Victoria had connections, influence — and a ruthlessness born of privilege. If she decided to destroy Bella, she could.
As the door shut behind her, Alexander felt the walls closing in. His life — once defined by control — was spiraling into chaos. But even with danger looming, he couldn't bring himself to let go of the one thing that made him feel alive.
That night, as the rain returned and thunder rolled across the horizon, he stood by the window once more. Somewhere in the mansion below, Bella slept — unaware of the storm gathering above her.
And in the reflection of the glass, he saw himself clearly for the first time: a man torn between two worlds — love and duty, truth and lies — and the haunting realization that fate was not done with him yet.