Alexa's pov:
The taxi stopped, and I stepped out, my shoes clicking against the marble driveway. My eyes went wide. Before me stood a mansion that looked straight out of a magazine — walls gleaming pure white with golden accents that caught the sunlight like they were dripping in light. Towering columns framed the entrance, and sprawling gardens bloomed with every color imaginable. A crystal-clear pond reflected the sky, and elegant fountains whispered in the breeze.
I gasped. This… isn't a house. This is a palace.
The door opened, and my heart skipped. There he was.
Alexander Whitford. The man everyone in Manhattan whispered about. He was tall — impossibly so — with broad shoulders that could fill a doorway. His hair was a perfect wave of golden-blond, shining even in the dim light of the hall. Blue eyes, sharp as shards of ice, scanned me like he could see straight into my soul. His jaw was strong, sculpted, flawless — every movement controlled, deliberate. He wore a tailored black suit that looked like it had been stitched to his body alone, white shirt crisp, tie perfectly knotted. He didn't smile. He didn't even breathe noticeably. He just… existed, radiating authority, wealth, and danger all at once.
"Miss Alexa," he said, voice calm but slicing through me like a knife. "You're late."
I swallowed, words caught in my throat. Late? For what? For life in this world? For surviving a crash?
"Yes… sir. I'll… be more punctual," I stammered, feeling tiny beneath his gaze.
Alexander's eyes lingered for a moment, icy and unreadable, before he turned sharply toward the hall, signaling the maid. "Show Miss Alexa to her room. Dinner will be in one hour."
The room they led me to was another masterpiece. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, letting the sunlight pour over the polished wooden floors. A chandelier sparkled above, dripping crystals that caught the light like tiny stars. The bed was enormous, plush, draped in silks and velvet. A chaise lounge sat in the corner, and the balcony doors opened to reveal the gardens and fountains below. Every detail screamed wealth, taste, and power — a life I had only read about in novels.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, heart hammering. Married to this man. Living in this world. Separate from Katie. And somehow, I had to survive… and maybe even change my fate.The dining room was just as breathtaking as the rest of the mansion — a long polished oak table, golden cutlery gleaming under a crystal chandelier, and plates arranged like art. Candles flickered, throwing a warm glow over the room, but it couldn't soften the chill Alexander radiated.
He sat at the head of the table, posture perfect, eating with meticulous elegance — each bite deliberate, movements graceful, almost like a dance. I couldn't take my eyes off him. There was something terrifyingly precise about the way he moved, the way he controlled everything in his presence, even a simple fork.
"Would you like some wine?" the maid asked, placing a crystal glass in front of me.
I shook my head. "No, thanks." My stomach felt too tight anyway.
Alexander glanced up from his plate, eyes piercing. "So, you've decided to stay here… in my world," he said calmly, voice smooth but with an underlying edge.
I took a deep breath. "I… I want to survive here. But I also want to start working again — to have something of my own. I can't just sit here."
He studied me quietly, expression unreadable. Then, finally, a corner of his lips curved just slightly — not a smile, more like a recognition of my audacity.
"You plan to leave this house?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted, keeping my tone steady. "Eventually. I need purpose. Something of my own. And I think I can manage both — being here and working."
Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious. Dangerous. But… I like honesty."
I let myself breathe a little, though the tension remained. Every movement he made was sharp, precise, commanding, but not cold enough to dismiss my words. It was as if he was testing me, seeing how much I could hold against the world — against him.
Dinner continued in tense silence, punctuated by polite sips and careful bites. Every so often, Alexander glanced at me, measuring, analyzing. And I knew — surviving in this world wouldn't just be about learning the rules… it would be about understanding him.
And that thought made my pulse quicken.After dinner, I barely touched dessert. My mind was elsewhere — racing through every possibility, every rule I didn't yet know in this world. Alexander had said little beyond observing me, but I could feel the weight of his gaze, even when my back was turned.
I excused myself, saying I needed some air, and the maid nodded silently. Stepping onto the balcony, the city lights stretched endlessly below me. Manhattan shimmered like a galaxy of gold and silver, but it couldn't hide the pressure I felt in my chest.
This is my life now, I thought. Married to Alexander, in a mansion I didn't earn, living in a world I barely understand… and Katie's out there somewhere, probably just as lost.
I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message:
"Brixton Café. Tomorrow. We plan. We survive. Together."
Sending it felt like a tiny act of rebellion — a small claim of control in a life where almost everything was already scripted.
Leaning against the balcony railing, I let the cool night air wash over me. The fountains below glimmered in the city lights, the gardens swayed in the wind, and for the first time since the crash, I allowed myself a small, determined smile.
Tomorrow, I thought. We start rewriting our story.
And with that, I retreated into the mansion, already calculating how to survive Alexander's scrutiny, keep my independence, and — most importantly — find Katie.