The memory of that night was a fractured kaleidoscope of heat, pain, and blind panic.
Even five years later, Evelyn could still feel the phantom grip of large, unforgiving hands bruising her waist. She remembered the suffocating darkness of the presidential suite, the terrifying realization that the wine her stepsister had given her was spiked, and the sheer desperation that drove her into the wrong room.
Most of all, she remembered his scent—a dangerous, intoxicating blend of sharp cedarwood and cold rain.
She had fled before dawn broke, leaving nothing behind but a crumpled sheet and taking nothing with her except a nightmare. And, as she would discover a month later, a completely different kind of consequence.
"Mommy? Your heart rate is elevated. Are you experiencing anxiety?"
The cool, surprisingly clinical voice pulled Evelyn out of her reverie.
The suffocating darkness of the past vanished, replaced by the sterile, glaring lights of the international arrivals terminal. Evelyn blinked, looking down at the small hand tugging at the hem of her tailored Burberry trench coat.
Leo wasn't like other five-year-olds. While kids his age were throwing tantrums over toys, Leo was currently frowning at the glowing screen of a heavily modified tablet he had built himself from spare parts. He adjusted his miniature designer glasses, his piercing ice-blue eyes analyzing her with unsettling precision.
"I'm fine, Leo," Evelyn said, forcing a reassuring smile. She ran a hand through her sleek, shoulder-length hair. She was no longer the naive, easily manipulated girl who had been chased out of the country in disgrace. She was returning as the newly appointed Creative Director of a top-tier firm, armed with enough power and resources to crush anyone who had ever wronged her.
"It's just jet lag," she added, tightening her grip on her suitcase. "Let's get to the hotel. We have a lot of work to do."
"Statistically, jet lag doesn't cause a sudden spike in cortisol levels unless triggered by an external stressor," Leo deadpanned, his fingers flying across the custom-built keyboard interface on his screen. "But I will accept your premise for now. Car is waiting at Exit B."
Evelyn chuckled softly. Sometimes she wondered how she had birthed a miniature supercomputer.
They navigated through the bustling crowd. Evelyn checked her phone for an email from her assistant, her attention momentarily diverted.
Thud.
"Oof!"
Evelyn's head snapped up. Leo had walked straight into what looked like a solid wall of black cashmere.
"Leo!" Evelyn gasped, dropping her phone and rushing forward to grab her son's shoulder. "I am so sorry, sir, he wasn't looking where he was—"
The words died in her throat.
The temperature in their immediate radius seemed to plummet by ten degrees. The man who turned around was exceptionally tall, flanked by four terrifyingly silent bodyguards in sharp suits. He exuded an aura of absolute authority and ruthless control that made the busy airport terminal feel instantly suffocating.
But that wasn't what paralyzed Evelyn.
It was his face. The sharp, aristocratic jawline. The cold, utterly merciless ice-blue eyes.
And then, it hit her. The scent. Sharp cedarwood and cold rain.
Evelyn's breath hitched. Her blood ran cold as her gaze darted frantically between the terrifying billionaire towering over them and the five-year-old boy standing at her side.
They had the exact. Same. Eyes.
The man looked down, his dark brows furrowing in slight irritation as his gaze landed on Leo. For a split second, something flickered in the man's cold eyes—a flash of confusion, a dangerous spark of recognition. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his polished Italian leather shoes completely silent on the tile.
"Who..." the man began, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that sent a violent shiver down Evelyn's spine.
Run. Every instinct in her body screamed the command.
"Excuse us!" Evelyn practically shrieked, her survival instincts hijacking her brain. She scooped Leo up into her arms with a strength she didn't know she possessed, abandoning her suitcase completely.
Before the man or his bodyguards could react, she spun around and bolted into the thickest part of the crowd, vanishing into the sea of people like a ghost.
Alexander stood frozen in the middle of the terminal, staring at the empty space where the woman and the boy had just been. His jaw clenched. He stared down at the abandoned suitcase, then slowly looked back up at the crowd.
"Sir?" his head of security asked cautiously. "Should we pursue?"
Alexander's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, a predatory aura rolling off him in waves. He couldn't shake the image of that boy's face. It was like looking into a mirror from twenty years ago. And the woman... her terrified reaction was entirely too extreme.
"Find out who that woman is," Alexander commanded, his voice deadly quiet. "I want her name, her background, and every single detail of her life on my desk within the hour."