CHAPTER 2

AXELLE

My life feels like a twisted joke. 

Now it's painfully clear why they handed me the company—my role was to be the perfect scapegoat, someone who would take the fall and face jail time on their behalf. And, tragically, that person turned out to be me.

Laughing bitterly, I grabbed a shot of whiskey and downed it in one gulp, reaching for a refill. To think I signed off on those documents, hidden under the guise of fake investments, all because I fell in love and trusted the one man I believed would protect me.

Chuckling ruefully, I lifted the glass to my lips and drained it, the sharpness of the whiskey burning as it went down.

"At this rate, you're going to get drunk," a deep voice observed.

I lifted my gaze slowly, blinking in surprise at the sight of someone who would make my father's blood pressure spike if he ever knew I was conversing with him. 

Should I even be calling him that? 

"Isn't that the whole point of coming to a bar?" I replied.

He pulled out a seat and sat down without waiting for an invitation. "You don't have to get drunk, Ms. Brandwith," he said gently, his tone almost soothing.

"You shouldn't be seen with me, Mr. Williams," I countered, a note of warning in my voice.

He chuckled softly, reaching for the glass of whiskey that I had just refilled. "Why not? Are you not allowed to make friends?" I tried to pull the glass away, but he was quicker, snatching it from my hand and taking a sip.

"You are not a friend to my family," I reminded him.

"True, but I'm a business rival. Though, considering you manage a completely different business from the rest of the family, you're not directly involved in our conflicts." He set the glass back down. "I've never seen you drunk before."

I scoffed, reaching for the bottle of whiskey, but he swiftly took that away as well. "You don't know me well enough to see me when I'm drunk," I said, a hint of bitterness in my voice. 

He simply smiled, not responding to my comment. "You'd need to be paying closer attention to really see me in that state," I added, a touch of defiance in my tone.

He tilted his head and leaned back, his crossed legs giving him an air of effortless arrogance. "And who says I haven't been watching you?"

"Why?" I whispered, my gaze locked on him, struggling to understand his interest.

"You fascinate me, Axelle," he replied, his voice raspy and almost breathless.

I wondered if the alcohol was making me more vulnerable or if my heartache was clouding my judgment, because suddenly, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the idea of feeling him whispering in my ear.

He noticed my lingering gaze and smirked. "Are you done ogling me?"

I cleared my throat and looked away, trying to regain my composure. "How do I fascinate you, Mr. Williams?"

He reached for the bottle, pouring himself another glass. "Call me Miles," he said, his eyes locking with mine as he took a sip. 

I licked my lips, a reflexive gesture that I couldn't quite control. "I didn't realize we were on a first-name basis."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Do you want to hear a secret?" he asked, though his tone suggested he would share it regardless of my response. I nodded hesitantly. "I've always wanted to hear you call me Miles."

I snorted. "Are you trying to get laid or something?"

He chuckled, and the sound almost drew a laugh from me as well. Yep, the alcohol was definitely playing tricks on my emotions. "I'm not trying to get laid," he said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward slightly. "What I'm interested in knowing is why you aren't wearing your wedding ring."

I glanced down at my bare hand and licked my lips. "Have you ever been betrayed, Miles?" I asked, my gaze lingering on the empty space where my ring used to be.

He remained silent, and his lack of response made me look up. I found him staring at me intently, his jaw clenched tightly as he seemed to process my words. "Has someone hurt you, Axelle? Your family? Your husband?"

I sighed deeply, rubbing my face with my hand in frustration. "My husband," I admitted, feeling a pang of vulnerability as I spoke. 

I don't care if I'm airing our dirty laundry in public. That bastard doesn't deserve me at all. "Fuck that, my family and my husband both betrayed me—they hurt me deeply."

I reached for the bottle and glass again, and this time he allowed me to take them. 

"What did they do?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, fearing that if I did, I would break down completely. Instead, I kept my focus on the glass in my hand. "What difference will it make if I tell you?" I said with a bitter chuckle. "It's not like you can help me."

"Try me," he insisted, his voice tight with a barely concealed anger.

The intensity in his voice made me look up. "Why would you want to help, even if you could?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. We had barely exchanged more than a few words before now, so I couldn't consider him a friend, or even an acquaintance.

"I told you," he said, his gaze penetrating, "you fascinate me."

Caught in the pull of his dark, intense eyes, we locked gazes, unable to look away from each other. "My husband is cheating on me with my sister," I finally admitted, watching his reaction closely. "And he isn't even apologetic about it."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression one of casual disdain. "Serve him divorce papers," he said flatly. "Any man who has you should be able to worship the ground you walk on."

I managed a smile that lacked any real amusement as I took a sip of my drink. "Apparently, I can't divorce him," I said, letting out a heavy sigh.

His frown deepened at my statement. He scratched his stubble thoughtfully. "And what's stopping you from getting a divorce?" he asked.

Before I could open my mouth to explain, he cut me off with a sharp, almost accusing question. "Please tell me it's not love. Surely, you're not that naïve."

I glared at him, drained my glass, and slammed it down on the table. "Adan tricked me into signing documents I shouldn't have, and now they have evidence that could land me in jail if I don't comply with their demands."

His head tilted slightly, as if contemplating my words. "And what is it they want from you? To stay married to him?"

I nodded. "It's either that or my family and his family will have me sent to jail." And I certainly do not want to end up behind bars.

Miles's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, briefly glancing at the screen before placing it face down on the table, his brow furrowing slightly. He seemed deep in thought before addressing me again. "On a scale from one to ten, how badly do you want to get away from your husband, his family, and your own family?"

"Eleven," I deadpanned. I didn't even view them as my family anymore. They had brought me into their circle solely as a scapegoat for their own mistakes and those of their children.

Miles's eyes narrowed. "Then let's wage a war against your family," he declared.

I frowned, taken aback by his bold statement. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, my confusion evident.

He smirked, a glint of wild excitement in his eyes. "You're going to divorce your husband, and I will ensure that you don't end up in jail for any reason," he said, his voice brimming with conviction.

I glanced around the room, half expecting a hidden camera to reveal this as some kind of stunt or show. "What are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered. "You don't even know the nature of my crime."

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Even if it's murder, I won't let you go to jail."

His response only deepened my confusion. "And why would you want to help me?" I asked, struggling to grasp his motives.

He leaned back in his chair, his casual demeanor at odds with the intensity of his words. "I told you, Axelle, you fascinate me," he said, his tone almost affectionate. "I'm very particular about things that captivate my interest, and for that reason, you won't be disappearing from my sight and ending up behind prison walls.

The confidence in his voice gave me a little bit of hope. "And what do you want in return?" I asked cautiously, preparing for whatever might come next.

He smiled, the expression broader and more intense than before. "I want you," he said, his gaze locking onto mine with a compelling intensity.

My eyes widened in surprise at his bold request. "I want you to admit that you need my help," he continued. "I want you to reach out to me for assistance, and I want you to come to me, Axelle."