Chapter 19 Too Late
Mia’s face tightened. She turned her eyes toward him at last, meeting his gaze.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “I love you. But I’m scared.”
She shifted on her feet, anxious, her fingers trembling.
“I don’t know how to look at you right now,” she said. “But I don’t want to go back to your home anymore, Mr. Graves.”
Alexander’s expression shifted in a heartbeat—fear, panic, and disbelief slamming through his eyes so fast it almost rattled her. Before she could even register it, he seized her hand and yanked her toward him.
Her body crashed against his chest, his arms locking around her as if he was terrified she would disappear if he let go even for a second.
“I don’t want to separate,” he said, voice strained, eyes desperate. “Mia… don’t leave me.”
But Mia pushed him away roughly, trembling, and freed herself from his hold. Her eyes were filled with hurt as she spoke.
“I can’t go back with you, Mr. Graves,” she said, voice breaking.
“You have photographs of me… from years when I didn’t even know you existed.
My photos taken from behind, taken without my knowledge.
And I thought we met by chance. I thought you helped me out of kindness and brought me home because of fate. But everything was wrong. I was wrong.”
Her voice shook as she stared at him.
“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know who you are, how you found me, or why you’ve been keeping a track of me for so many years.”
Alexander’s entire body tightened. “I will explain,” he said immediately, his voice raw. “Just let me—”
“It’s too late,” Mia said, voice aching. She drew a shaky breath as she looked him straight in the eyes.
“Mr. Graves… I am terrified.” Her voice dropped into a whisper. “I love someone I now know nothing about. I married you because I trusted you. And you broke that trust.”
She swallowed hard. Her voice softened, almost calm—yet it hurt more than shouting.
“I need space. I don’t want to go back with you.”
Alexander’s eyes dimmed. Impatience, fear, sadness—everything flickered across his face. It was clear he was barely holding himself together.
“I will wait for you to come back home,” he forced out, even though the words looked like they were killing him.
He didn’t look well at all. His face was pale, tense… like he was dying inside.
Just then, Sawyer walked out of the house. He came straight to Mia, grabbed her wrist, and gently—but firmly—pulled her back inside.
Alexander’s expression turned colder, darker, his jaw clenching hard as Mia disappeared behind Sawyer.
Alexander followed them inside.
In the living room, Sawyer moved in front of her immediately, his posture protective and tense.
“Don’t worry,” Sawyer said firmly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I know exactly what kind of man he is.”
His glare shot toward Alexander—sharp, displeased, full of warning.
Alexander Graves was a name known everywhere. His name was famous—and the rumors were worse. Rumors that he was cunning, dangerous, and impossible to deal with. Rumors that he kept a woman beside him for five years… and now he had suddenly married Mia?
None of it pleased Sawyer. He didn’t like that Mia was involved with someone like Alexander. And from what he had seen today, it was clear their marriage was far from normal.
Sawyer stepped forward until he was standing at Alexander’s height, his expression cold.
“Mr. Graves,” Sawyer said sharply, his voice low and dangerous, “what the hell do you mean by barging into my house with your men?”
Alexander remained calm, almost indifferent, his gaze flicking to Mia and then back to Sawyer. He spoke in a composed, measured tone.
“I was happy to hear that my wife has found her relatives. As her husband, I wanted to bring gifts for her new family, Mr. Stark.”
He lifted two fingers, flicking them sharply toward Allen. Moments later, Allen appeared. “Bring all the gifts into the house now,” Alexander ordered. Allen nodded and turned to the ten men who had accompanied them, gesturing for them to follow him out.
Moments later, the men returned, each carrying boxes overflowing with gifts—fruits, clothes, jewelry, and more. There was so much that it took three trips to bring everything inside. By the end, the living room was stacked high with large boxes, a colorful and extravagant display of abundance.
Alexander’s gaze returned to Mia. His eyes softened, the intensity of before melting into something calmer, almost vulnerable.
“Mia?” he said gently, meeting her gaze. His voice lowered further. “I am leaving now.”
Mia remained rooted in place, her heart tightening as she watched him.
Alexander turned and walked toward the door. Her eyes followed him silently.
Before stepping outside, he paused. He glanced back at her once—his eyes searching, filled with something she couldn’t name. But Mia quickly turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze.
The disappointment and sadness in Alexander’s face deepened. With a final, lingering look, he turned fully and walked out, disappearing from view.
Sawyer immediately shifted his attention to Mia, worry etched across his face. “Alexander… did he hurt you?” His tone was soft but firm, protective.
Mia shook her head, taking a steadying breath. “No… he didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly, her voice soft, polite.
Sawyer crouched slightly, looking down at her with earnest eyes. “If anyone ever bothers you, you tell me. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Liana stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Mia’s. Her gaze was kind, steady. “Yes. If anyone ever hurts you, don’t hide it from us. We’ll take care of you.”
Mia lifted her head, offering a small, polite smile.
Her politeness, her youthfulness, the way she looked at them—it made Liana’s chest tighten. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Mia’s shoulders, pulling her gently into an embrace.
“You’re such a sweet child,” Liana whispered, her voice catching. “I can hardly breathe when I look at you.”
Mia smiled faintly, leaning into the warmth.
***
The day had passed in a blur at the Stark mansion, and by nightfall, Mia hadn’t left the house.
She stayed with Sawyer’s family, enveloped in the warmth of their presence.
Dinner had been a lively affair—Liana insisted Mia eat everything on her plate, fussing over her like a mother hen, practically adopting her as her own daughter.
Every time she called Liana “Aunt Liana,” her eyes shimmered with tears, and Mia felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging.
By the end of the evening, it felt as though Liana had truly adopted her as part of the family.
But when midnight came, and the rain poured outside, Mia couldn’t sleep.
She tried, desperately, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Images from the photographs haunted her—the ones Alexander had kept for all these years.
Pictures of her from her teenage years, through college, and even after her marriage.
The thought of how he had obtained them, why he kept them, and what else he might know—or hide—made her chest tighten with unease.
The rain deepened, heavy and relentless. Restless and unable to bear lying in bed, she slipped out and walked to the window. The heavy curtains fell away as she peered out from the first floor of the massive mansion. The view of the vast grounds stretched below.
And then her heart skipped.
There he was—Alexander. Standing near his car, a cigarette in his hand, several burnt stubs littered at his feet. He leaned against the sleek vehicle, motionless, eyes distant, posture still and tense.
His head lifted, and their eyes met for a brief, fleeting moment. A sharp jolt shot through her.
Heart pounding, Mia stepped back from the window and hurried to her bed, yanking the blanket over her face as if hiding could somehow erase his presence.
She tried to bury her feelings, hoping the sight of him outside would fade from her mind.
But it didn’t. His presence lingered in her thoughts, heavy and insistent.
Hours crawled by. She tossed and turned, unable to settle, her mind replaying that single moment over and over. Finally, breath uneven, she slipped out of bed and crept toward the window again.
Mia’s eyes widened.
Alexander was still there.
He stood below, leaning fully against the car now, head tilted back, staring straight at her window as though he had been waiting for her to return.
And the instant she appeared, their eyes locked again.
Mia froze. Something inside her tightened, fear mixing with an emotion she couldn’t name. His gaze sent a shiver through her whole body.
Mia’s breath caught. Her gaze flicked to the clock on the bedside table.
4:00 AM.
Outside, the rain was falling harder, the storm beating against the glass, matching the restless, chaotic pounding in her chest.
The rain poured heavily, drenching him from head to toe. His shirt clung to his body, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his skin looked frighteningly cold. It was clear—he had been standing there since the moment she last saw him.
At first, she felt startled. Then she felt something else—anger. A deep, hot anger that made her chest burn.
Without thinking twice, Mia stormed out of the bedroom, marched down the stairs, and pushed open the front door. She walked straight into the rain, her feet splashing through puddles as she headed toward him, fury written all over her face.
She reached him and stood directly in front of him, rain dripping from her hair and clothes.
“Why are you still here?” she snapped, voice sharp with anger. “I told you I’m not going back to your house. Stop doing this, Mr. Graves!”
Alexander’s eyes were grim—red, tired, and burning with an emotion she had never seen in him before. Seeing her, he straightened immediately, no longer slumped against the car.
Mia felt her heartbeat tighten. But she didn’t look away.
She stared him dead in the eyes and said firmly, “Mr. Graves, I want a divorce.”
It happened in a blink.