Chapter 63 The Truth
Isabella — POV ?
The warehouse seemed to grow quieter.
Even the men standing around us shifted slightly, like they knew something was coming.
Something ugly.
Moretti turned fully toward me now.
“You see,” he said almost conversationally, “Alexander likes to pretend he has morals.”
His eyes flicked back toward Alexander.
“Likes to pretend he’s better than the rest of us.”
His smile widened.
“But what he forgot to tell you…”
He paused deliberately.
“…is that the great Alexander Kingsley didn’t just kill my father.”
My stomach twisted.
“He killed his own father too.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“With his own hands.”
For a moment the entire room felt like it tilted.
My eyes snapped to Alexander.
“No…”
The word came out barely above a whisper.
Alexander’s face didn’t change.
But his eyes hardened.
“Moretti,” he said coldly. “Stop.”
Moretti laughed.
“Why? Is it not true?”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“Everything between us can be settled right now.”
His voice dropped lower.
“Just let her go.”
Moretti ignored him completely.
Instead, he looked back at me.
“Imagine that,” he continued smoothly. “A man standing here lecturing me about morality…”
He gestured toward Alexander.
“…when he strangled his own father to death.”
My heart pounded violently in my chest.
I looked at Alexander again.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Praying he would say it wasn’t true.
“Alexander…”
My voice shook.
For a moment he didn’t speak.
But Moretti only smiled wider.
“He killed his own father to take over the company.”
“Oh no.”
He stepped closer.
“We’re not done yet, we are not even close the the good part, the part that I want you to know the big one, his biggest secret .”
His eyes burned with something dark now.
“You killed my father.”
He pointed at Alexander.
“And you killed your own.”
My head felt like it was spinning.
“He killed my father because he didn’t like the business he was running,” Moretti continued bitterly.
Alexander’s voice cut through the air like thunder.
“Enough.”
But Moretti kept talking.
“Isn’t that right?” he said mockingly. “You got tired of waiting for the old man to die, so you helped speed things along.”
“STOP.”
Alexander’s voice exploded through the warehouse.
For a moment even Moretti’s men shifted uneasily.
Alexander stepped forward now.
His eyes were dark.
Colder than I had ever seen them.
“If he had to die again,” Alexander said slowly, “I would do it again.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
“I regret nothing.”
His voice was quiet now.
But filled with something raw.
“That man didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as my mother.”
My breath caught.
Alexander’s eyes flicked toward me.
And for the first time since he walked into the warehouse—
I saw something break in them.
“He beat her,” Alexander said hoarsely.
My chest tightened.
“He beat her for years.”
His voice grew darker.
“Every night.”
The warehouse was completely silent now.
“I watched him break her bones.”
My stomach twisted.
“I watched him drag her across the floor.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“And one night…”
His voice dropped lower.
“…he almost beat her to death.”
My chest hurt listening to him.
Alexander’s hands slowly curled into fists.
“I walked into that room and saw him on top of her.”
His voice trembled slightly.
“She wasn’t even fighting anymore.”
My throat closed.
“She was barely breathing.”
Alexander’s eyes went distant.
Like he wasn’t standing in the warehouse anymore.
Like he was back there.
Back in that room.
Back in that moment.
Silence swallowed the space around us.
“I grabbed him,” he said quietly.
His voice had changed now—rougher, heavier.
“I pulled him off her.”
My heart pounded harder.
“And then…”
Alexander lifted his eyes and looked directly at me.
There was no hiding in his expression now.
No excuses.
No lies.
“Yes,” he said.
“I killed him.”
The words fell into the silence like stones.
“I killed him with my own hands.”
He didn’t look away.
Not even for a second.
“I squeezed the life out of him.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“And when it was over…”
His voice hollowed.
“I told the police he had a heart attack.”
The truth hung in the air like smoke.
Thick.
Heavy.
For a moment no one spoke.
My heart was still racing.
My mind trying to wrap itself around everything he had just confessed.
And yet—
somewhere deep inside me—
I understood.
I understood the anger.
The pain.
The years of watching his mother suffer.
The moment when something inside him finally broke.
Alexander’s eyes never left mine.
Waiting.
Like he expected to see hatred there.
Or fear.
Or rejection.
Like he was already preparing himself to lose me.
But before I could even speak—
Moretti began clapping slowly.
The sound echoed through the warehouse.
Sharp.
Mocking.
“Well,” he said with cruel amusement.
“That was beautiful.”
His smile spread again.
“Truly.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“But that’s not the part that will break her heart.”
My stomach tightened.
Moretti’s eyes gleamed as he looked at me.
“No,” he continued softly.
“That’s not the part of the story that will make her hate you.”
He looked back at Alexander.
The smile on his face turned vicious.
“Tell her, Alexander.”
The warehouse went silent again.
“Tell her how you paid her back,” Moretti said slowly.
“After what she did for you.”
Confusion rushed through me.
My brows pulled together as I looked between them.
After what I did for him?
What was he talking about?
My voice came out unsteady.
“What does that mean?”
Neither of them answered.
The silence stretched painfully.
I turned fully toward Alexander.
My heart beating faster.
“Alexander…”
My voice trembled now.
“What is he talking about?”
Alexander didn’t move.
He looked pale.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Terrified.
Like a man staring straight at something he had spent years trying to bury.
And suddenly my confusion turned into something worse.
Fear.
“Alexander,” I said again.
“What did I do for you?”
My voice shook.
“What did you do to me?”
For a long moment he didn’t speak.
He just stood there looking like death itself.
And the way he refused to meet my eyes told me something terrifying.
Whatever Moretti was talking about—
Alexander already knew exactly what it was.
And that scared him more than anything else in this room.