Frank's POV
The moment he mentioned "Alex," I felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of me.
Alex—my ex.
Let's not even get into who William is. The situation itself wasn't complicated. Young guys, full of hormones, throwing fists and egos around just to impress a girl—it's practically a high school tradition. Even if no one actually fought, Alex had enough connections. If he wanted to find out something or pull some strings, it wouldn't be hard for him.
But I hated it—hated when Ruby brought him up.
Especially with that glowing, worshipful tone of his. Like Alex was some kind of saint.
"He's in the next city over," I said coolly. "You think he's going to fly over here just to save you?"
In all these years since we came to the U.S., every time Ruby messed something up, it was me who cleaned it. Not Alex. Alex never even called to ask if we were okay. Too scared of getting his hands dirty, probably. He never wanted to get involved.
I paused, then softened my words just a little. "Even if it's Alex... doesn't mean he could actually fix this."
Ruby's reaction was as expected—he exploded.
"No way! Stop scaring me! That's Alex we're talking about!"
Of course. He'd worshipped Alex since we were kids. To him, Alex was everything—kind, smart, untouchable. The perfect guy. His role model.
Ruby's dad always wanted to curry favor with the Alex family, and Ruby picked up on that like it was instinct.
The sad part? He didn't even realize—people like Alex never saw us as equals.
I shook my head, ready to drop the argument, but something clicked in my mind.
"Hey, Ruby. Don't you love watching the NBA? How come you've never heard of Hank?"
"Because that peacock plays football," he scoffed. "They were talking about football the whole time. What does that have to do with basketball?"
Then he gave me a smug look, like he was the genius in the room. "Frank, come on. You've lived in America for years and still don't know the NBA is basketball and the NFL is football? Even I know that."
I almost laughed. "William actually played basketball in high school. A five-star recruit, too. And guess what—"
"Wait a sec," he cut me off, eyes narrowing like he smelled gossip. "Why do you know so much about him? Don't tell me… you like him?"
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "I was going to say, his dad owns the Charlotte Hornets."
Ruby's face dropped.
Finally, we were in territory he respected.
The NBA. The holy land of fame, wealth, and untouchable power. Every team backed by billions in capital. If someone owned an NBA team, they weren't just rich—they were gods.
"No way. Are you serious? He's Vincent's son?"
"Yeah," I said, watching his face pale. "All those things you love bragging about—money, connections? They're nothing to him. His family? They're on top of the pyramid."
Sure, the media always said Vincent and his only son didn't get along, but so what? Even if Vincent changed girlfriends like clothes, the heir to the throne had always been William.
I kept my tone even, but the look on Ruby's face turned darker by the second. He got it. It sank in.
He looked like someone had just drained the color from his body.
I sighed and said what needed to be said.
"So congrats. Out of everyone you could've pissed off, you went for the worst possible one."
His voice cracked. "What do I do now? Are we gonna die here tonight?"
He said it like I dragged him into this mess.
I gave him a side-eye. "If anyone's going to get hit, it's you."
"Bro, please! I'm begging you! I swear I won't mess around anymore. I'll study, I'll behave, I'll be a good kid from now on!"
He was trembling, clutching my arm like I was his last lifeline.
All I could think about was the way he'd stood in the middle of that party, throwing shade at William with that stupid smug look. Honestly, William not punching him was the most polite reaction he could've had.
I gave Ruby a long look, voice low and steady. "Scared now, huh? But it's too late. You think they'll go easy on you just because of me?"
He was shaking. "I—I'll apologize, okay? I'll get down on my knees and beg if I have to! Will he let me go?"
"Do you have any pride left?" I snapped. "You were acting all tough just now. Now you're ready to cry over a slap?"
"I know I was wrong! I really messed up!"
He looked so pathetic—soaked and shriveled like a chick caught in the rain. Not a trace of his spoiled-prince attitude remained.
I sighed.
Was there any value in this mess?
Maybe.
If this whole situation could finally teach Ruby that money doesn't solve everything—especially not when you're on someone else's turf—then maybe tonight wouldn't be a total waste.
But…
I had a William interview next week.
If I blew things up with him now… it could destroy everything I'd worked for.
Ruby or my career?
I didn't even have to think about it.
Of course my career came first—a thousand, a million times over.
And yet—
I couldn't stop remembering that one New Year back in Australia. Our first holiday there. The only ones who made us feel welcome were Mom's husband… and Ruby.
I took a deep breath. "First, go apologize. Just do what we can. If they still want to beat you up after that... we'll call the cops."
Ruby swallowed. "Wouldn't that piss them off even more?"
I gave him a look. "What part of tonight hasn't pissed off William?"
"Then—then call them! Let's call the cops!"
I glanced at the sofa. Half-finished drinks still littered the table, and in between the glasses, I could see the empty space that spelled danger.
"If they tell you to finish your drink first," I said quietly, "you drink a couple shots, then fake being drunk."
"Couple shots? I'll probably pass out after one…"
"Even better."
"But what if I don't? Sometimes I get… hyper."
I was losing my patience. "Then fake it."
"What if I can't pull it off?"
I glared. "Then picture William punching you in the face and drop."
That shut him up real quick.
"I swear," he muttered, "I'll win an Oscar tonight…"
Just as we were whispering in the corner, plotting our little escape act, the sound near the sofa grew louder.
I heard Gary's voice—the team's center—now sitting right beside Harris on the long couch.
He was laughing like it was nothing, but the way he looked over here—sharp, amused—sent a chill down my spine.
"Yo," Gary called out, nodding our way. "See that kid in the corner? He's been staring at you all night. Heard him chatting about your family too. Dude knows you better than the tabloids. The way he talks about you? Total fanboy vibes."