The city blurred past the tinted windows as Violet sat stiffly beside Alec, the brief silence settling like dust between them. She flipped open the leather-bound folder he had handed her just moments ago, eyes scanning rows of bank statements, digital transaction records, and logged access times. The numbers swam in front of her, but the mounting weight was clear: someone had used company resources, and Alec insisted the trail led to her.
"This can't be right," she said finally, closing the folder with a snap. Her voice was steady, though her heart hammered fiercely in her chest. "None of this belongs to me. You're accusing me of theft without proof. You should double-check before making such claims."
Alec shifted slightly in his seat, his expression grim. "This has been checked, Violet. More than once. The transactions are tied directly to your credentials. Your user ID has been used to approve these expenses."
Her breath hitched. "I don't understand. Someone must be manipulating the system. I would never risk everything and steal. Not after all I've sacrificed."
He studied her carefully, eyes sharp. "If that's true, prove it. Tell me what I'm missing."
Violet bit the inside of her lip, fighting the frustration and disbelief swirling inside her. "Do you really think I would steal money from the company, after everything—after you gave me a card during our time together, which I returned immediately? If I needed money, I would have asked. I didn't because I never wanted to cross that line."
Alec's mouth tightened. "Either you're lying, or someone's framing you. But the evidence points to you, Violet."
For a long moment, she said nothing, staring out the window at the passing cityscape. The weight of the accusation felt suffocating—an injustice she could not simply brush aside.
Finally, she met his gaze—defiant and raw. "What else do you want from me? What can I do to convince you I'm innocent?"
He exhaled slowly. "Spend a weekend with me."
The words hit like a sudden storm, shocking her into silence.
"Excuse me?" she breathed, heart pounding with disbelief.
"Spend the weekend with me. At my place," Alec repeated evenly, eyes locked on hers. "If after that you still want me to leave you alone, I will. No more accusations, no threats."
Violet's mind reeled. Those words carried more than a suggestion—they were an ultimatum that struck at her pride and autonomy.
"Are you serious?" Her voice trembled, a mixture of anger and disbelief woven through it. "You want me to spend an entire weekend with you as some kind of... proof? That's ridiculous."
His expression was unreadable but firm. "I don't want to do this. But it's the only way you can clear your name in my eyes. You say you're innocent—then prove it."
Violet shook her head, the humbling demand igniting a firestorm within. "I'm not some trophy you can keep under your control. I won't let you pressure me into this—especially not now."
Alec's gaze softened just slightly, but his resolve did not waver. "You're asking me to believe you when the evidence says otherwise. This weekend is your chance."
Time seemed to stretch between them. Violet's thoughts churned—if she refused, Alec could destroy her career with mere words. If she agreed, she risked exposing herself to more than just professional scrutiny; she risked her dignity, her sense of self.
Her voice was steady but low when she spoke next. "Not now. I won't agree today. I need time—time to sort this out, time to prove myself on my own terms."
"Time is a luxury you don't have," Alec replied firmly. "But I'm willing to give you until this weekend. No more delays."
Violet swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter within. She had no choice—but that didn't mean she would submit easily.
As the car slid through the streets, the city dimming into twilight outside the window, Violet's mind raced—not just with defenses, but with determination. She would face the accusations, fight with everything she had. She would protect her family, her name, and her pride.
But she wouldn't be controlled—not by Alec, not by anyone.
The weekend loomed like a silent trial, and Violet prepared herself to face it on her terms, whatever the cost.
Two days had passed since their tense drive through the city—the weight of Alec's demand looming over Violet like a storm cloud ready to burst. The weekend she dreaded was fast approaching, and every moment spun fragments of doubt, anger, and vulnerable uncertainty through her mind.
Her phone buzzed in the quiet of her apartment that evening. She glanced at the screen: Alec's name flashed insistently.
With a steadying breath, Violet answered. "Where exactly will I be spending this weekend?"
There was a pause, then Alec's cool voice replied, "I'm sending someone to pick you up. They'll arrive tonight. After that…" His voice dropped low, a hint of something undisguised in his tone. "…We'll see where the night takes us."
Violet stiffened, a flicker of shock running through her. After that, meaning what? She swallowed hard and replied, "Fine."
As the evening deepened, Violet tried to untangle the emotions swirling inside her—betrayal, apprehension, a stubborn spark of resistance. Nothing about this was what she had wanted—not a forced weekend at Alec's beck and call, not the shadow of accusations hanging over her head.
Later, after the car arrived and the exchange was made, Violet found herself at Alec's place—a sleek, modern apartment overlooking the city lights. The ambiance was cold, almost impersonal, and the tension between them was as palpable as the distant hum of traffic below.
After a silent dinner, Alec suggested she freshen up, and Violet allowed herself the brief luxury of a bath. The warm water soothed the taut muscles she had barely noticed holding her rigid all day.
Dressed in a simple robe, she stepped out of the bathroom, the soft clack of her footsteps falling lightly on the hardwood floor. But then she stopped. On the polished glass table sat a photograph—a color print close enough to shove disbelief and anger straight to the surface.
She picked up the photo. It was a woman—turned at an angle, body ambiguous but the ample curves of the chest unmistakable. And the face was cropped out, but the context was clear: this was the evidence Alec claimed.
Her breath quickened. How long had he been spying? How deep had this gone?
Demanding answers, she found Alec lounging on the sofa, his eyes lifting calmly to meet hers.
"What is this?" Violet's voice was sharp, trembling with rage. "Why is this photo here? Have you been spying on me?"
Alec's gaze was steady, unreadable as ever, but a flicker of something—resentment, maybe guilt?—passed through his eyes.
"Violet," he said quietly, "weren't you cheating on me?"
His words hit like icy daggers, and Violet slammed the photo onto the table. Furious and hurt, she grabbed the nearest glass of wine and without hesitation, tipped it over, drenching Alec's head and shoulders in deep red liquid.
"Do you have any idea what that means?" Alec exclaimed, leaping up, his hair soaked and dripping.
Violet's voice was icy, fueled by wounds long festering. "You were heartless. You didn't bother to check. Left me hanging, abandoned me two weeks before our wedding—all because of this photo that isn't even real."
She pointed sharply at the photo. "Look at it again. Does that woman's body resemble mine? When have I ever had a bust that big?"
Alec ran his hands through his dripping hair, venom mingling with surprise. "You expect me to believe that this is a lie?"
"I expect you to understand that you let your insecurities and pride blind you," Violet snapped. "You attacked me based on a cropped image. You didn't come to me for answers, no confrontation—just walked away. And now you want me to prove my loyalty by spending a weekend with you like some demonstration? You're twisted."
For a tense moment, the room was silent except for the occasional drip of wine from Alec's hair.
Violet's chest heaved as tears threatened to fall but stifled the urge.
"You owe me more than an apology. You owe me the truth—and the respect you never gave," she whispered.
Alec lowered his gaze, shadows flickering across his face. "I was scared," he admitted. "I thought I was protecting myself."
"By betraying the one person who trusted you the most?" Violet asked bitterly.
He said nothing.
She stepped back, regaining her composure. "Whatever happens this weekend, know this: I will not be treated like a damn accusation to be proven or disproven. If you want the truth, you have to learn to trust."
Alec reached out, hesitating, before pulling his dripping sleeves back, nodding slowly.
The fragile truce between them hung in the air—a whisper of possibility beneath the storm.