A Night With The Ruthless Billionaire

A syringe. The liquid inside catches the light, clear and sinister.

"What is that?" My voice trembles, barely a whisper. My body feels frozen, locked in place by fear.

Victoria's smile stretches wider, a cruel and twisted thing. Her voice drips with venom as she steps closer, holding the syringe delicately between her fingers like a weapon. "Insurance," she says smoothly. "You'll forget everything. Your connection to Alex, your fight for the truth, all of it." She pauses, letting her words sink in. Her eyes narrow, sharp as daggers. "And then, you'll disappear."

"No." I stumble back, the heel of my shoe catching on the tiles. My eyes dart to the door, desperate, searching for an escape. There has to be a way out of this.

Victoria advances, her steps slow and deliberate, the syringe gleaming in the dim light. "Goodbye, Emma."

My heart pounds in my chest as she lunges forward, the needle aimed straight for my arm. I try to dodge, but the space between us is too small, the walls closing in.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes from the hallway. The doorframe shakes violently, the sound rattling through the room.

Victoria freezes mid-motion, her head snapping toward the door.

The door bursts open, splinters flying, and Alex barrels through, his shirt torn, blood streaking his face. His eyes find mine instantly, wild with desperation.

"Emma!"

Victoria steps back, startled but not defeated. She grips the syringe tightly, her eyes narrowing as Alex storms toward her.

In one fluid motion, Alex grabs her wrist, twisting it hard. She lets out a sharp cry as the syringe slips from her grasp, spinning through the air before shattering against the wall.

"You won't touch her," Alex growls, his voice low and dangerous. His hand remains locked around Victoria's wrist, his body taut with fury.

Victoria laughs, a hollow, bitter sound that sends chills down my spine. "It's too late, Alex. You can't save her. Not this time."

She wrenches her arm free, backing away toward the corner of the room. Her eyes gleam with something close to triumph, and I realize she's not scared. She's waiting.

The sound of another door creaking open behind Alex makes my blood run cold.

A man steps inside. Older, with silver-streaked hair and an air of quiet authority. His presence is suffocating, the kind that fills every inch of a room. His eyes—cold and calculating—sweep over the scene, lingering on me for a moment before settling on Alex.

Alex stiffens. His breath hitches, just slightly, but enough for me to notice.

"Father."

The word feels like a gunshot, loud and heavy, echoing in the room.

His father's smile is slow, almost predatory. He doesn't rush. Every movement is deliberate as he steps closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "Hello, son," he says, his voice calm, terrifying.

Alex moves in front of me, his body shielding mine. I grip the back of his jacket, my hands shaking.

"What are you doing here?" Alex's voice is tight, filled with barely controlled rage.

His father doesn't answer right away. Instead, he looks at Victoria, who straightens under his gaze. She says nothing, but the silent exchange between them is enough to make my stomach twist.

"This is just the beginning," his father finally says, his tone light, conversational, as if he's discussing the weather. But the weight of his words crushes the air from my lungs.

Alex tenses further. "Leave her out of this. Whatever you want, it has nothing to do with her."

His father chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Oh, Alex. You've always been so naive. Everything has to do with her."

Victoria steps forward, her confidence renewed by his presence. "You think you've won, Alex?" she sneers. "You haven't even begun to fight."

I feel like the ground is slipping away beneath me, the walls pressing in closer. None of this makes sense. Alex's father. Victoria. The syringe. The secrets swirling around me feel like a storm, impossible to untangle.

His father finally turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Emma, was it?"

My throat is dry. I can't speak. I just nod.

"You're going to do as I say," he continues, his voice quiet but commanding. "You're going to go back to your mother's bedside. You'll attend to her, take care of her. No one will stop you."

I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly. "What?"

"But," he adds, his eyes hardening, "there's one condition."

Alex steps forward, his voice rising. "Don't you dare—"

His father silences him with a sharp look. "One condition," he repeats, turning back to me. "Jonathan will stay with you."

"Jonathan?" I glance at Alex, confusion knotting my stomach.

Alex's father smiles, his teeth bared like a wolf's. "My other son. He'll ensure your... safety."

Alex's fists clench at his sides, his whole body vibrating with rage. "You can't do this. She's not a pawn in your game."

His father ignores him, his gaze piercing me. "Do we have a deal?"

I hesitate, my heart hammering. I don't know what to say, what to do. My mother needs me. But everything about this feels like a trap, a web I won't be able to escape.

"Emma," Alex's voice is low, urgent. "Don't agree to anything. Don't trust him."

His father sighs, almost bored. "It's a simple choice, Emma. Your mother's health... or your pride."

The room feels impossibly small, the walls closing in. My mother's fragile face flashes in my mind, the sound of her weak breathing filling my ears.

I look at Alex, his eyes pleading with me to resist. But what choice do I have?

"Okay," I whisper, the word barely audible. "I'll do it."

Alex's father smiles, satisfied. "Good girl."

But as he steps back, his eyes flicker with something dark, something I can't place. And I know, with a sinking feeling, that I've just made a deal with the devil.

The door creaks open behind Alex's father, and another figure steps inside. A man, younger, with sharp features and an unsettling smile. His presence is icy, calculated.

"Emma," he says, his voice smooth and chilling. "I'm Jonathan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The weight of his words crashes down on me. My legs feel weak, my vision blurring.

Alex steps in front of me again, his voice a low growl. "Stay away from her."

But Jonathan's smile only widens. "You should've listened to Father, Alex. Now, it's too late."

The air thickens, heavy with unspoken threats, as the door slams shut behind us.

The air in the hallway feels suffocating as Alex's father steps closer, his polished shoes tapping softly against the linoleum. Each step he takes feels like a countdown, pulling me deeper into a vortex I don't understand.

"Emma," he repeats, his voice unsettlingly smooth, his hands tucked casually into his pockets as if we were acquaintances meeting for coffee. "You've caused quite a mess for my family."

I glance behind me, the faint sounds of Alex's struggle echoing down the hallway. My heart clenches. I should go back. I should fight. But I can't leave my mother unprotected, and I can't face this man alone.

"What do you want?" I manage, my voice trembling.

He tilts his head, his expression unreadable. "Want? You've already done more than enough by simply existing."

I freeze, his words sharp as glass.

"But now," he continues, his tone softening, "we need to tidy up. Loose ends are bad for business, and you, my dear, are one very large loose end."

His hand moves, slow and deliberate, pulling something from his jacket. My stomach twists as I see the sleek black of a gun.

"Don't do this," I whisper, stepping back instinctively.

His smile is razor-thin. "I'm not here to kill you, Emma. Not yet."

The "not yet" sends a chill down my spine. My body feels paralyzed, rooted in place.

"You think Alex can save you?" His voice is calm, almost bored. "He's always been ruthless and stupid. That's why he'll lose everything."

"He's not," I say before I can stop myself, my voice steadier than I feel.

For a moment, his expression changes, a flicker of something like amusement crossing his face. "Defensive already? How touching. But it won't matter."

Before I can respond, a hand clamps onto my wrist. I whirl around, startled, only to meet Alex's stormy blue eyes. His chest is heaving, his knuckles bruised.

"Let her go," Alex growls, his voice deadly.

"Ah, there's my son," his father says, sounding almost delighted. "You look just like me when you're angry. Did you know that?"

Alex doesn't reply. His grip on my wrist tightens, his body tense like a coiled spring.

"I won't ask again," Alex says, his voice low, sharp.

His father chuckles, shaking his head as if Alex is a child throwing a tantrum. "You never did learn to listen. Always trying to protect people who don't matter."

"She matters," Alex snaps.

The declaration sends a jolt through me. My breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in.

Alex steps forward, positioning himself between me and his father. "You've already destroyed too much. Stay away from her."

His father's expression darkens, the air in the hallway crackling with tension. "I'm doing what's necessary. Something you've never been able to do."

The two men stare each other down, the weight of years of resentment and unspoken words hanging between them.

"Take her and go," his father says after a moment, his tone shifting to something almost dismissive. "But don't think for a second that this is over."

Alex doesn't move, his body still taut with anger, his eyes locked on his father.

"Alex," I whisper, tugging gently at his arm. "Please."

He blinks, as if snapping out of a trance. Without another word, he pulls me down the hallway, his hand firm and steady.

We burst through the emergency exit into the rain-soaked night, the cool air biting against my skin. Alex leads me to the car, his movements rushed but deliberate.

"Get in," he says, his voice tight.

I hesitate. "Alex, what just happened? What did he mean?"

He doesn't answer, instead opening the passenger door and practically lifting me into the seat.

The car door slams shut, and a moment later, Alex slides into the driver's side. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"Alex," I say softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

His shoulders stiffen under my touch, but he doesn't pull away. "Not here," he says, his voice strained. "I'll explain everything, I promise. Just… let me get us somewhere safe."