Aloe's POV

The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock.

He stood there, tall, broad, and was like a figure carved from shadows and light, like he belonged in a different world altogether.

And standing before me is no other person than Blake's Matthew. The man whose name was whispered like a curse at Wakes Savage's gatherings. The man Wakes had sworn to ruin.

"Mrs. Savage," he said smoothly, his voice low and certain, like this was the moment he'd been waiting years for.

My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat a warning. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I don't understand what he meant by that but my instinct was telling me to turn and run and battle with the iron will that had kept me standing through every storm. But I couldn't go back, not after what I'd left behind.

Blake stepped aside, his movements slow and deliberate. "Come in. Before someone thinks you're stranded with nowhere to go."

The front door closed behind me with a weighty click, the sound final, almost sealing my fate.

The house was nothing like the cold, polished mansion I'd left. Warm wood stretched across the floors, its grain marked by years. The walls were lined with shelves of books, their spines worn and softened by time. The faint scent of smoke, and fresh coffee curled through the air. It felt... lived in. Like real.

He led me down a narrow hallway into a sitting room where a fireplace was. Its low crackle broke the silence in a way that made the room feel smaller, and more intimate.

He gestured to a couch, but I stayed standing, arms crossed, unwilling to sink into comfort I hadn't yet earned.

"You look like you have questions," he said, pouring amber liquid into a short glass. His movements were unhurried, as if control was stitched into his very being.

"That's an understatement," I replied, sharper than I meant to.

He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine. "You called for help. I'm helping. Simple as that."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not the whole story. You and Wakes... you hate each other. So why help me?"

His eyes darkened, but his expression stayed steady. "Because you're the one thing he can't control."

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "That's not true."

"It is," he said quietly, placing the glass down with care. "Wakes built his empire on control, on fear, on loyalty bought and bound. Everyone bends to him. Except you. And that's what drives him insane."

His words scraped against the truth I'd buried deep. The loneliness. The silences that cut sharper than arguments. The way I'd been placed on a pedestal that felt more like a cage.

"So this is just another move in your war with him?" I asked.

"That's part of it."

"At least you're honest." My arms tightened across my chest.

"But not the whole truth," he added, stepping closer. The faint spice of his cologne was so unsettling.

I held my ground. "Then what is it?"

He paused, and for the briefest moment, the hard lines of his face eased. "Because... you're stronger than you realize. Because you didn't run when everyone expected you to. Because you survived."

A hundred questions clawed at the edge of my tongue, but his words pinned me in place.

"You don't trust me," he said with a small chuckle.

"Not yet."

He gave a small nod. "Good. You shouldn't trust anyone too quickly, not in this world."

The fire popped softly, and for a long moment, the only thing I could hear was my own breathing.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black phone. "This is yours, the phone is untraceable. Use it for me. If Wakes calls your old phone, don't answer or better still, switch it off."

I took the phone, its cold weight grounding me in the strangeness of the moment.

"Why all this?" I asked. "What do you want from me?"

He smiled, before answering. "It's not just about what I want. It's about balance. Wakes thinks he's untouchable. But I'm here to prove otherwise."

My jaw tightened. "And you think using me is the way to do that?"

"Not just using you," he said evenly. "Protecting you. Because if you fall, he wins. And I won't let that happen."

I looked at the phone again, feeling the weight of choices I hadn't even made yet. "What now?"

"Rest tonight," he said. "You're safe here."

Safe. The word felt foreign, like it belonged to another life.

He nodded toward a door down the hall. "Tomorrow, we plan. There's a war coming, and you're in the middle of it now."

I followed him to the guest room, my heart pounding not just from fear, but from the quiet, unsettling realization that I had stepped from one battlefield straight into another.

Because tonight, I had escaped Wakes Savage.

But very soon... The real fight will begin.

Wakes  pov

I woke up to the harsh glare of sunlight pouring through the thin curtains, my head pounding like I'd been hit with a hammer. The room smelled of cum and alcohol, nothing like the warmth of our main bedroom. For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together how I ended up here.

The guest room.

Of all places.

Then the blurry flashes of last night came back. A bar, too much whiskey, and a girl whose name I never cared to learn. Her perfume had been heavy, clinging to my shirt, her laugh loud enough to drown out the noise in my head. A mistake, sure, but one I'd chosen. One I could shrug off, because sometimes you need to sink low just to breathe.

I'd taken the guest room deliberately when I got back, not because it was comfortable, but because it was far from Aloe. I didn't want the questions. The quiet accusations. The way her eyes could strip me bare without her saying a word. I thought a few hours of silence would be a blessing.

Turns out, it was a curse.

Dragging myself out of bed, I ran a hand through my messy hair and headed toward the main room expecting to find Aloe there. Maybe sitting with that stiff posture she gets when she's angry. Or ready to throw a sarcastic comment my way. Anything.

But the bed was untouched. The sheets are smooth. Her pillow was exactly where it always was, only without the faint smell of her hair.

Something inside me twisted.

I searched the living room but she wasn't there. The kitchen was empty too. Even the terrace, where she sometimes went to cool off, was deserted. Each empty room fueled my irritation until it was a steady burn in my chest.

I went straight to the security post. The guard was leaning against the desk, half-distracted by his phone.

"Have you seen Aloe since last night?" I asked, my voice low but sharp enough to make him straighten.

He shook his head. "No, sir. Not since yesterday evening."

I stared at him, waiting for more, but he avoided my eyes. My patience was already thin, and his evasiveness pushed it to the edge.

"Pull the footage," I ordered.

The place where all the CCTV recordings were kept, felt colder than usual. The hum of the equipment filled the air as I rewound through the hours, my eyes locked on the screens.

I scrolled back to the day she caught me with the blonde girl on our bed..mm but it was filled with cries so I skipped till where she pulled out her phone, glanced around, then made a call.

I leaned closer to the monitor, but the audio was nothing but scrambled static. My jaw clenched. Who was she talking to, without my permission, I'm sure she's with whoever that person was. My worst mistake was giving her a phone.

I inhaled loudly, then skipped to the next day... I wanted to fast forward to evening time after the security man saw her last ... but I paused when I saw her suitcase, half-open on the floor, clothes spilling out everywhere. A few dresses, jeans, and shirts and.. few stuff but I quickly skipped till when I saw her carrying her bag outside.

I clicked on the outside camera as the video played full screen. And there was a Black SVC which she entered after a little talk with whoever that person holding the door for her was.

My heartbeat slowed, heavy, like my body was bracing for something my mind didn't want to accept.

Was leaving me, of course she can't, she can't spend more than 48 hours without my help.

I sat there longer than I needed to, staring at the paused frame of her stepping into the car. The Aloe I knew or thought I knew would never vanish in the middle of the night without saying a word. And yet here was proof.

By the time I left the surveillance room, anger was everywhere around me, because I got inside the main building, I had my phone and dialed my Tech guy's digits.

"Heron," I said immediately he picked up, "I need you to trace something for me. Last night, Aloe made a call. I want to know who she called."

There was a short pause, before he said. "Give me the time and the phone number she used in making the call."

I told him the exact minute I'd seen her on the footage, then called her phone digits for him. I could hear his keyboard tapping in the background.

"Got it," he said after what felt like eternity. "The call came from Blake Matthew's personal apartment."

I still went.

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not," Heron replied. "That's what the logs show."

I shook my head. "No one goes to Blake's apartment, not without an invitation. He meets people at his villa, his penthouse, his mansion... but never that place."

Heron didn't argue. "All I know is what the system tells me."

I ended the call without another word, my grip tightening around the phone until the plastic creaked.

Blake Matthew, my fucking enemy. And Aloe had gone to him.

The thought alone was enough to make my blood feel like boiling tar. It wasn't the fact that she'd left but she fucking went to my enemy, of all places to go.

I stood there in the middle of the room, and made myself a promise... one I had no intention of breaking.

She could run to the ends of the earth. She could hide behind locked doors and powerful names.

But I would find her. Because as long as we didn't end with a signature on some divorce papers, she's still my legal wife, and nobody takes what belongs to me.

And as for Aloe... she hadn't seen the lengths I could go yet.... She's about to bring out the monster that created the monster in me.

Aloe's POV

I didn't sleep, not really didn't sleep, didn't sleep. I just kept my eyes open long after my body had given up, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds until I could convince myself to move. Every sound in the house made my heart jump.... Not minding if it's soft thuds, a creak in the floorboards, the faint hum of the refrigerator, it's all alarming cause I felt exposed.

Not in a physical way, I knew Blake had eyes on everything but in a way that made my chest tight, like being under someone's gaze could reach into me and pick me apart.

When I finally got up, I realized I wasn't entirely aware of why I'd done it. Part of me had wanted to see him, to test the presence I couldn't stop thinking about since I arrived.

Another part was more selfish, it was just a desire for comfort in a world that had become cold, distant, and frightening. I tried to push that last thought away. I am married and also pregnant. None of this changes that.

I found him in the kitchen. He was standing with his back to me, his fingers drumming lightly on the counter, calm and patient in a way that was infuriating. His jacket hung from his shoulders, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the lean tension in his arms. My stomach twisted, not entirely unpleasant, and I forced my eyes down to the floor.

"You're awake," he said, his voice was like a lullaby. I nodded, keeping my hands folded in front of me.

"You should rest," he added. "Tomorrow might be... A bit demanding."

"I'm fine," I muttered. Like who told him I want to rest... such a jerk. Oh dear, my hormones are getting the better part of me.

He turned, and I caught his eyes. There was something there, something he didn't bother explaining. It hit me in a way I wasn't prepared for. My pulse sped, a familiar, unwelcome heat curling low in my belly. I forced myself to breathe slowly, telling myself that it was just fear, just adrenaline, that I was safe, that none of this mattered because it couldn't.

And yet, the look he gave me stared longer than any warning, longer than I wanted it to. I could feel him noticing the slight quiver in my fingers, the way my breath hitched when he shifted closer.

Although he didn't move suddenly, he just moved a little bit closer, and even though the space between us is still much, the air around him pressed closer, and I realized I'd been holding myself tight against the counter just to stay upright.

I took a step back. "I need..."

"No," he interrupted. "You don't need to go back to the room and coil up." His voice dropped.

"You need to let yourself feel safe," he murmured.

I laughed, in a low and dry way. "Safe? I don't feel safe anywhere anymore."

He didn't argue. He just reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. My body reacted before my mind could, the tension in my shoulders, a shiver I tried to hide, heat I tried to ignore. I turned my face slightly, wanting to step back, but not fast enough. His hand went down  at the curve of my jaw.

"Don't fight it," he said leaning closer, and closer.

I wanted to pull away, push him, tell him he had no right, but my voice faltered. I had no words strong enough to push him out entirely.

My chest tightened, and immediately I remembered that I was still pregnant for my husband, that I am still someone else's wife. My hands moved to the small swell under my shirt, clutching the fabric over my belly almost instinctively, a silent boundary.

Blake noticed that I was uncomfortable. I could see it in the slight pause of his hand, the sharp intake of his breath, and I felt a strange, confusing relief. He understood, but that didn't make him stop entirely.

"Just stay here," he said. His lips curved faintly, but his eyes didn't soften. "I'm not going to cross a line you won't let me cross."

I swallowed hard, nodding, trying to gather myself. But it wasn't just control I was wrestling with, it was the way he made me aware of what I'd denied myself for so long. The desire, the freedom to want something purely for myself. Something I didn't have to hide behind.

He stepped closer again, but this time, in that teasing bad boy way. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I stepped back instinctively, pressing my back against the counter. My mind screamed, You can't. You won't. You mustn't. My body, though, betrayed me, betraying logic with every subtle twitch, every involuntary lean.

He studied me, silently, like he could read the war inside me without me speaking. Then, finally, he let out a low sigh, stepping away just enough to let me breathe.

"You're stronger than you realize," he murmured, almost to himself.

I shook my head, pushing him from my thoughts. "I'm not anyone's prize. I'm not..." I stopped myself, biting back the rest. I wouldn't admit to the tangle of emotions building inside me, because honestly I don't even know what I am saying..

He didn't press, just turned slightly, leaning against the counter. His presence filled the room, and I realized I could feel him without looking, without touching. Every movement he made was careful, almost like he was testing boundaries as much as respecting them.

I backed toward the bedroom, telling myself I needed rest, needed distance. My legs felt heavy, my mind buzzing with tension, with the unspoken electricity between us, I thought he would call me back again... but he didn't, and honestly I appreciate that.

I climbed into bed fully clothed, pulling the blanket over me like a shield, trying to calm my pulse.

And yet, despite every attempt, I felt his gaze as I lay there, and I knew that tonight, nothing would be simple.

Because Blake Matthew had entered my life not as a savior, not as a friend, but as a force I could neither control nor ignore. And I wasn't sure I wanted to.