Alexanders Coldness
The bedroom was quiet in the early morning light. Alexander stood in front of the full-length mirror, buttoning his crisp white shirt with precise, efficient movements.
His expression was closed off, jaw tight, the warmth he had shown during his phone calls from Ohio completely gone.
Emery approached quietly, holding his freshly pressed suit jacket. She offered it to him with both hands.
“Here,” she said softly.
Alexander snatched the jacket from her grip without a word of thanks, the motion rough enough to make her fingers sting. He shrugged it on, adjusting the lapels with sharp tugs.
Emery tried to fill the heavy silence with small talk, her voice gentle. “I felt a very small flutter. The doctor said it’s normal at this stage. She said it will get stronger in coming weeks. Maybe next week we can hear the heartbeat again if you want to come with me.”
Alexander didn’t reply. He fastened his cufflinks, eyes fixed on his reflection, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.
She tried once more, a little more hesitant. “I thought… perhaps we could look at some baby names together? Or at least talk about it? I’ve been thinking about a few...”
Still nothing. The silence stretched, uncomfortable and cold.
Emery finally set the empty hanger down and addressed it directly, her voice soft but steady. “Alexander… did I do something to offend you? You’ve been different since you came back from Ohio. You barely speak to me anymore. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me.”
He turned to face her then. His calm, observant eyes were hard now, laced with suspicion and resentment.
He didn’t raise his voice, but every word was deliberate, spoken in riddles that revealed nothing while cutting deep.
“You know exactly what you did,” he said quietly, the accusation veiled but unmistakable.
“Playing the innocent card so well. Encouraging certain decisions… making sure things turned out in your favor. Some people are very good at positioning themselves at the right moment. Others are simply… convenient.”
Emery stared at him, confusion and hurt flashing across her face. “I don’t understand what you mean. What are you talking about?”
Alexander’s jaw tightened. He didn’t explain further. He simply picked up his briefcase and headed for the door.
As he passed her, he paused just long enough to deliver the final blow, his voice ice-cold and final.
“Stay away from me.”
The very man who had once told her to speak up, to stop being a doormat, now treated her like she was beneath contempt... a stranger in her own marriage.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Emery stood alone in the middle of the room, the echo of his words ringing in her ears.
Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, protecting the tiny life inside her, the child whose real father was the one man she was forbidden to love.
She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
The cage around her had never felt smaller.
×××××××
Ivy had pulled Emery into the cozy family sitting room upstairs, a space rarely used but filled with warmth and memories.
She had brought out several thick, leather-bound photo albums from a cabinet and spread them across the low coffee table.
“Come on, you have to see these,” Ivy said with a bright grin, patting the couch beside her. “You’re part of the family now. Time to meet the younger, chubbier versions of us.”
Emery sat down hesitantly, her hand instinctively resting on her small bump.
The albums were heavy with years of memories.
Ivy flipped open the first one, and dozens of childhood photos spilled across the pages: Harper as a bossy little girl with pigtails, Alexander as a serious, neatly dressed boy, Ivy as a mischievous toddler with wild curls, and Jesse…
Jesse as the chubbiest, most adorable little boy with dark, cherubic curls, always clinging to his father’s leg or sitting on his lap in almost every picture.
Emery couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at her lips. “Jesse was so cute,” she murmured, tracing a finger over a photo of a round-cheeked toddler Jesse hugging his father’s waist, face buried in his shirt. “Look at those curls… and that little belly.”
Ivy laughed delightedly. “I know, right? He was the chubbiest one. Mom used to call him her little teddy bear. He’d follow Dad everywhere, refusing to let go.”
She flipped to another page, pointing at a photo of herself as a tiny girl with a big bow in her hair, grinning toothily at the camera.
“But I was clearly the cutest,” Ivy declared dramatically, striking a pose. “Look at that face. Unbeatable.”
Emery looked at the photo, then at Ivy, and said with gentle sincerity, “You still are.”
Ivy burst into a delighted laugh, the sound bright and genuine. She threw her arms around Emery in a warm, spontaneous hug, squeezing her tightly.
“You’re the sweetest,” Ivy said, still laughing softly as she pulled back. “I’m keeping you forever.”
Emery smiled, returning the hug, but her heart ached fiercely in her chest.
Looking at those photos, especially the ones of Jesse as a little boy, so innocent and full of love for his father made the pain sharper.
This was the man whose child she now carried. The man who had once been so open with his affection, now forced to watch from the sidelines while she pretended the baby belonged to someone else.
The man whose dark curls and chubby cheeks she could almost see in the tiny life growing inside her.
It hurt more than she could express.
She blinked back the sting in her eyes and turned another page, pretending to study a photo of all four siblings piled together on a couch, laughing.
Ivy didn’t notice the quiet sadness that had settled over her. She kept flipping pages, chattering happily about old family stories, completely unaware that every photo of Jesse was twisting the knife deeper in Emery’s heart.
But for now, she kept that ache locked away, smiling softly at Ivy’s laughter, pretending the past didn’t feel like it was breaking her all over again.
×××××××
Camilla stepped into Alexander’s office without knocking, closing the door softly behind her.
She wore a fitted emerald dress that accentuated her figure, her hair falling in soft waves. A confident, seductive smile curved her lips as she approached his desk.
“Alexander,” she purred, rounding the desk and leaning down to kiss him.
He didn’t pull away.
Instead, he kissed her back without any hesitation. His hand came up to cup the back of her neck for a moment before he let her go.
Camilla pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her fingers tracing his jaw. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she whispered.
“Me too,” he replied. “I was looking forward to seeing you today.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “The day isn't complete without you.”
“Then come out with me tonight. Just the two of us. On a date you'd never forget. No pressure, no family watching. I want to remind you how good we can be together.”
Alexander hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright. Tonight.”
Her smile widened, victorious. She leaned in and kissed him once more, softer this time, before straightening up and smoothing her dress. “I should let my CEO do his work now,” she whispered seductively.
Alexander smirked. “You make me forget everything.”
She laughed out loud. “Take care, Mr. Prescott.”
As she turned to leave, the door opened.
Jesse stepped in, holding a file, and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes locked on Camilla, who was reaching for the door handle.
Camilla glanced at him, her lips curving into a flirtatious wink. “Hello, Jesse,” she said sweetly, then slipped out without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.
Jesse’s face darkened with confusion and anger. He turned to his brother.
“What the hell was this woman doing here?”
Alexander didn’t reply. He simply picked up a pen and returned his attention to the documents on his desk, expression calm and unreadable.
“Alexander?” Jesse pressed, stepping closer. “Why was she here?”
Alexander finally looked up, his voice even. “She was just visiting.”
“Visiting?” Jesse’s tone sharpened. “Why? What does she want now? After she left you at the altar and disappeared?”
Alexander leaned back in his chair, eyes steady. “It’s none of your concern, Jesse.”
Jesse’s jaw clenched. “None of my concern? She shows up out of nowhere, and it’s none of my concern? You’re married, Alexander. Your wife is pregnant. Don’t do anything that puts you in complications.”
Alexander’s expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something guarded in his eyes.
He didn’t explain Camilla’s tears, her accusations about Emery and Harold, or the way she had slowly wormed her way back into his thoughts. He simply said, “I know my responsibilities.”
Jesse stared at him for a long moment, frustration and worry clear on his face. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re letting the past walk back in and sit at your desk.”
Alexander didn’t answer. He simply picked up the file and opened it again, signaling the conversation was over.
Jesse shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and left the office, the door closing firmly behind him.
Inside, Alexander remained seated, staring at the closed door. Camilla’s words still echoed in his mind: her tears, her claims that Emery had encouraged her to run, that Harold had favored Emery. He didn’t fully believe it, but the doubt had taken root.
And for the first time, he wondered how much of his marriage was built on lies.
×××××××