Chapter 42: The City Turns

New York woke to scandal.

Every screen carried the same names: Evelyn Whitmore, Victor Hale, Richard Whitmore, Isabella Whitmore, Scarlett Whitmore, Alexander Moretti.

The story was too large for society gossip now. It had become crime, corruption, corporate fraud, attempted murder, and a fourteen-year-old death dragged back into the light.

From Alexander's hospital room, Scarlett watched the city turn against the family that had once controlled her life.

Evelyn's charity donors denied involvement. Richard's board allies resigned. Charles Carter issued a statement claiming ignorance, which no one believed. Victoria had vanished from public view.

Scarlett should have felt satisfied.

Instead, she felt hollow.

Alexander slept most of the day. When he woke, it was in fragments—one hand searching for hers, one whispered command to check security, one attempt to sit up that made three nurses threaten him at once.

By evening, his eyes opened fully.

'Scarlett.'

She leaned forward immediately. 'I am here.'

His gaze moved over her face, pausing on the bruise. 'Who touched you?'

A laugh broke from her, half sob. 'You were shot, and that is your first question?'

'Answer me.'

'Marcus Vale. He is dead.'

Alexander's eyes darkened. 'Not enough.'

'Do not start a war from a hospital bed.'

'I can delegate.'

She smiled despite herself. Then the smile faded. 'Victor said I was nothing without you.'

Alexander's hand tightened weakly around hers. 'Victor Hale has spent his life mistaking cruelty for intelligence.'

'But when you fell, I felt like the floor disappeared.'

'Love does that sometimes.'

Scarlett looked at him, tears burning. 'I do not want to be weak because I love you.'

Alexander's voice was rough but steady. 'Then do not confuse fear with weakness. I was terrified when I saw you on that runway. It did not make me weaker. It reminded me what I was fighting for.'

She lowered her forehead to his hand.

Outside the hospital, cameras waited. The city demanded statements. Enemies searched for cracks.

Inside the room, Scarlett listened to the slow rhythm of Alexander's breathing and understood that victory would mean nothing if she lost the one person who had seen her before the world did.