Chapter 4
I woke early, my mind still buzzing from the events of last night. The penthouse felt heavy, and I could not shake the memory of the papers I had found or the news headline linking Alexander to a world of crime.
When I went to the kitchen, Sophia was already sitting at the table, her small hands clutching her stuffed bunny.
The usual light was gone from her hazel eyes, replaced by a quiet sadness that hurt to look at. Her curls were messy and her pajama top was wrinkled; it was clear she had not slept well.
"Good morning, sweetheart," I said, trying to sound cheerful as I smoothed down my shirt. "How about some pancakes? Chocolate chip, your favorite?"
She shrugged, her gaze staying fixed on the bunny's ear. "I am not hungry," she whispered.
I frowned and crouched beside her, the cold marble floor chilling my knees through my jeans. "What is wrong, Sophia? You can tell me. I am here."
She paused, her lower lip trembling as she looked up at me with eyes shiny with tears. "I heard you and Daddy fighting last night," she mumbled, her voice shaking. "Did I do something wrong?"
My heart broke with a sharp, jagged pain. "Oh, no, sweetheart," I said, gently cupping her face. Her cheeks were soft under my hands. "You did not do anything wrong. Not ever. Sometimes grown-ups argue, but it is never your fault, okay? Never think that."
She nodded a small, slow movement but the shadow remained in her eyes, leaving a doubt I could not erase.
Wanting to cheer her up, I stood and began flipping pancakes, forcing myself to sound happy.
The sizzle of the batter on the griddle acted as a weak shield against her silence.
But as the morning wore on, Sophia's mood only worsened.
She pushed her plate away without touching a single bite, eventually knocking her fork so hard it clattered to the floor. Soon, toys were flying across the living room. One of her dolls hit the wall and cracked. Her small hands curled into tight fists of pure frustration.
When I tried to hug her, she pulled away violently. "Leave me alone!" she snapped. Her voice sounded so unlike her that it stunned me into silence.
By midday, I was losing patience. I had never seen my sweet, kind Sophia act like this, transformed into a storm of volatile emotions I couldn't calm.
I knew it was a cry for help a little girl's way of expressing a confusion and fear she couldn't yet name. And I was failing her.
Alexander walked through the door that evening, and his presence immediately filled the penthouse like thunder, causing the air to tighten. He looked sharp in his dark gray suit, which fit his broad frame perfectly.
His jaw was set tight, and his piercing gray eyes swept the room, taking in the mess of scattered toys, a tipped chair, and the faint echo of Sophia's earlier cries.
"What is going on?" he demanded. His voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for evasion as his gaze locked onto me by the counter.
I sighed and ran a hand through my messy hair, exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders.
"Sophia has been acting out all day," I said, trying to keep my voice steady under his close scrutiny.
"She is upset about last night. She heard us arguing and thinks it is her fault.
She is just a kid, Alexander. She does not understand what is happening. "
His face darkened as a storm gathered in his eyes. His body stiffened, making his imposing power feel even more suffocating. "What did you say to her?" he snapped, his words cutting like a whip.
Anger flared within me, but I stood my ground and met his stare. "I did not say anything," I replied firmly, despite the tremor in my chest.
"She heard us. It scared her. I have been trying to fix it all day, but she is falling apart. She needs more than just me right now."
For a brief moment, a flicker of conflict cracked through his expression, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He let out a sharp, rough breath, his wide shoulders shifting as he took a step closer, his presence utterly massive.
"Where is she?" he ordered in a low growl.
"In her room," I said, pointing down the hall.
"She has been in there most of the afternoon."
With a quick, sharp nod of his chin, he walked toward her room with absolute purpose, the floor seemingly shaking under his boots.
I followed and stood in the doorway as he entered. His tall frame softened slightly as he knelt beside her bed, where Sophia lay curled up under her blankets. Her face was stained with dried tears, and she was clutching her bunny tight.
"Sophia," he said. His voice was a deep rumble, but it softened at the edges in a way I rarely heard—gentle yet firm. "Look at me. Now."
She sniffled and peeked out from her blanket, her eyes red and wary. "Daddy?" she whispered.
He reached out and brushed a curl from her face with a careful, surprisingly gentle touch. His fingers lingered for a moment, as if trying to anchor her away from her sadness.
"I am sorry," he said, his voice low but steady.
"I did not mean to scare you last night. I get angry; it is what I do. But it is never because of you. You are my world, Sophia. Nothing changes that. Understand me?"
Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she threw herself into his arms, her small body completely swallowed by his embrace. "I love you, Daddy," she sobbed against his shoulder.
He held her tightly, his arms forming a protective fortress around her as his face masked over with hard control. But over her shoulder, his eyes met mine.
For a fraction of a second, I saw something raw and unprotected a flicker of vulnerability and a father's fear beneath the alpha's armor. Then it was gone. His expression hardened back into the unreadable wall I knew so well, his commanding aura returning like a gate slamming shut.
He stood, lifting Sophia effortlessly as she snuggled against him, her tears finally slowing.
"Thank you," he said to me. His voice was a quiet, controlled rumble, but it carried an edge a command disguised as gratitude. "For handling her today. Do not let it happen again."
I nodded, my throat too tight to properly bridge the widening gap between us. "She just needed you," I murmured, keeping my words careful.
His jaw tightened. Turning away, he carried Sophia back to her bed with the air of a man who owned the room.
Drained from her emotional outbursts, she fell asleep almost instantly. He tucked the blankets around her with exact, deliberate movements, staying for a quiet moment just to watch her breathe.
When he finally stood and brushed past me to leave, his shoulder deliberately clipped mine. It was a claiming, heavy touch that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Stay with her tonight," he ordered over his shoulder as he headed for his office, never looking back. "She does not leave your sight until she is herself again. Understood?"
"Yes," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the weight of his command. He disappeared down the hall, and the heavy click of his office door echoed through the penthouse.
I sat on the edge of Sophia's bed, brushing a hand over her sleeping form. Her soft, rhythmic breathing offered a fragile contrast to the storm still raging in my mind.
Alexander's apology had calmed her, and his fierce protection was a comfort to her chaos, but I knew it wasn't enough.
She needed stability, a love that didn't come with dark shadows and dangerous secrets a sense of peace he might never be able to give her.