“Alora…”

Jackie—who worked closely with Rafael Holmes—stepped into the CEO’s office to deliver his latest project report. Unlike most people at Holmes Corp., Jackie knew all about Rafael and Alora Moore’s history. When he spotted Alora just outside the door, he gave her a small nod.

But before he could actually greet her, he caught the scene inside the office and clamped a hand over his mouth. The glance he shot Alora’s way said more than he ever could: pity, sympathy, and a quiet kind of dread.

“I’m sorry, Tess,” Rafael said, looking rattled.

For a second, he’d drifted somewhere far off, standing frozen for several long beats before gently pulling away from Tessa Guzman.

“It’s okay,” Tessa said, a playful blush creeping into her cheeks. “It was just my shoelace.”

At the doorway, Alora’s gaze dropped to Tessa’s shoes—sleek designer sneakers, paired with a crisp white blouse and a soft pink pleated skirt. She looked like the kind of girl who could still be crowned campus queen.

Rafael didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to. His actions said it all. He lifted Tessa onto the desk with careful hands, bent down, and began tying her shoelaces like it was something sacred.

Watching him tend to Tessa’s shoelaces with that kind of devotion, Alora couldn’t stop the memory from hitting her.

Back when they were still tender with each other, Rafael had told her, “Meeting you was the happiest thing in my life. I’ll cherish you and protect you. I’ll never let you suffer or be wronged. I will never betray you.”

Her heart had soared. She’d foolishly believed she was the luckiest girl alive. One Thanksgiving, they’d walked through a park, fingers laced together, when they passed a young couple. The girl had whimsically asked her boyfriend to tie her shoelaces. Alora, half teasing, had asked Rafael if he would do the same for her.

His answer had been dismissive: “There’s no point comparing us to other couples. It’s childish.”

The message had been clear—he wouldn’t. She’d told herself it was just his nature, that men like him didn’t bother with silly little gestures. As long as he cared, she’d been fine.

But now, watching Rafael be so gentle with Tessa, Alora finally understood. Even the coldest men—men like the snow-capped Alps—would bow to tie the shoelaces of the girl they loved. Even the iciest frost would melt for the one they cherished.

Every line he’d drawn with her, every principle he’d claimed to hold, had only existed because he didn’t truly love her.

Maybe this was for the best. They’d both move on. Start new Chapters. Yes. It was for the best.

Alora stood there, still as stone, and watched Rafael finish tying Tessa’s shoelaces. Then he began gently massaging her ankle, their eyes locked in everything neither of them said. The boy she’d once loved had faded into a mere shadow in her heart.

When Tessa threw her arms around Rafael in a playful hug, Alora knew there was nothing left to see. She turned and headed for the stairwell.

“Miss Alora!”

Jackie called after her, worry sharp in his voice. He’d watched Alora give Rafael years of her life.

Alora paused. She heard the sincerity in Jackie’s voice, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.

“I’ve already broken up with Rafael,” she said.

She saw the shock flicker through Jackie’s eyes, but she kept going. “He loves me, does he? Is that why he married Tessa on my birthday? He loves me, does he? Is that why he’s still tangled up with Tessa and can’t let go? His kind of love—I can’t bear it.”

“Miss Alora,” Jackie tried carefully, “is your resignation letter ready? I’ll need to sign off on it for you.”

Jackie, head of the secretarial department, had the authority to sign off on her resignation—not Rafael.

“Are you sure about this? Does Mr. Holmes know?” Jackie asked. He was loyal to Rafael, but even he couldn’t pretend the whole Tessa situation had been fair to Alora.

After leaving Rafael, Alora wanted nothing more to do with Holmes Corp. Over the next few days, she stayed firm. She avoided anything that reminded her of Rafael and poured herself into her voice-over work, which had recently started bringing her unexpected success.

Her mind was made up. Alora was ready to step into her new beginning and leave the shadows of lost love behind.

Rafael let out a dry laugh, hiding a private little thrill. He had a hunch Alora was bluffing—using her resignation as a power play. He, better than anyone, knew how badly she wanted to be his personal secretary. In the past, she’d moved heaven and earth to win his favor for that role. If he actually accepted her resignation, she’d be the one hurting, not him.

Rafael decided she needed a reality check. She’d crossed the line this time. “Process her resignation,” he told Jackie, his assistant. “And when you do, make sure she knows—if she walks out, she doesn’t get to come back.”

Jackie winced, not liking the idea of delivering a message that harsh. He thought about telling Rafael that Alora seemed serious this time, that she probably wasn’t coming back. But one look at Rafael’s stone-cold expression, and the words died in his throat. He nodded and got to work finalizing her resignation paperwork.

Once Jackie signed off, Alora made quick work of the formalities. Back at her hotel, her phone buzzed almost immediately: “Meet me at the Cranberry Lounge, room 8808.”

The Cranberry Lounge was Rafael’s favorite spot for socializing, but after the breakup, Alora wanted nothing to do with him. She was about to type out a refusal when another message came in: “If you want your parents’ locket back, be here in thirty minutes.”

Desperate to get back the keepsake from her parents, Alora didn’t waste a second getting to the Cranberry Lounge.

When she stepped into the dimly lit private room, Alora spotted Rafael on a plush wine-red leather sofa, Tessa tucked comfortably beside him. Tessa’s chin was tilted up just enough to show off her usual pride and charm. Rafael hovered over her protectively, every gesture dripping with care.

The sight stung, a sharp ache in her chest, but she forced herself to focus on why she was there. She pushed down the bitterness and walked in.

“Apologize to Tessa!” Rafael’s voice cut through the room as he slammed his glass onto the floor near Alora’s feet. “How dare you send thugs after her to steal that locket? If Patrick hadn’t been there, who knows what those lowlifes would’ve done!”

His friends were quick to pile on. “Alora, that was low!” one snapped. “Jealousy doesn’t give you the right to go after her!” another added. “Apologize to Tessa, and maybe Rafael will forgive you,” a third said, calling her “Tess” with a warmth Alora had never been shown.

Alora stood there, all the color drained from her face. She had loved Rafael so much, tried so hard to fit into his circle. And yet, after all those years, none of them had ever shown her that kind of warmth. None of them had ever treated her as one of their own.

She used to think their rough, careless treatment of her was just part of their personalities. But now, hearing the affection in their voices for Tessa, she realized they were only mirroring Rafael. To them, she wasn’t worth the effort.

Rafael didn’t even try to hide his favoritism. He lifted Tessa up despite her past betrayal. Everyone knew she’d walked away from him four years ago, and still they worshipped her.

“Apologize to Tessa, Alora!” Rafael’s words sliced through her thoughts and dragged her back to reality.

Alora held her ground. “I never sent anyone after Tessa! I—” she tried to explain, but Rafael cut her off. “Those thugs said you sent them. Tessa would never lie!”

Alora almost laughed at how absurd it was. So Tessa was the gold standard of truth, and she was the liar? After four years together, she’d hoped Rafael would at least know her character, even if his heart belonged to Tessa. But with one sentence, he’d convicted her without a second thought.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t apologize to Tessa!” Alora said firmly. She hated the misunderstanding, but more than that, her heart was turning cold with grief. “If an accusation is proof, what if I said Tessa was a murderer—should she be thrown in jail without evidence? I won’t admit to something I didn’t do. You might as well call the police. Even they need evidence to convict, and Tessa’s word isn’t enough!”

“Rafael, I didn’t make anything up…” Tessa’s eyes reddened, her icy demeanor giving way to a fragile, vulnerable facade, expertly crafted to pull at everyone’s heartstrings.

Rafael’s patience snapped. He waved the locket Alora was desperate for, using it like a leash. “Alora, apologize to Tessa! Or forget about ever getting this locket back!”

Alora didn’t answer right away. Her eyes locked on the locket glinting in Rafael’s hand. Her parents had made it with love—a one-of-a-kind heirloom with intricate gold filigree cradling a rare sapphire.

The sight of it dragged her back to that terrible night four years ago. In the middle of a wild blizzard, she had shielded Rafael from his scheming half brother. She’d taken two stab wounds for him, holding on until the police arrived.

In the chaos, her locket had been stolen. She had lost it saving Rafael. Even if he didn’t love her the way she loved him, even if his heart belonged to Tessa, once he recovered it, he should have given it back—not used it as a weapon against her.

“Alora, stop this,” Tessa cut in, pretending to be generous, looking down at Alora like she was beneath her. “I won’t press charges over what happened. Let’s just have her finish the drinks on the table as a peace offering, and we can forget about it.”

Rafael hesitated. He knew Alora couldn’t drink alcohol because of her medical history. But he couldn’t bring himself to refuse Tessa, not when she was sick. So he nodded, his expression cold and indifferent.

Alora had told herself it wasn’t worth grieving over a man who didn’t love her. But when he nodded, she couldn’t stop the tears from burning her eyes. He knew she couldn’t drink alcohol.

Back when Rafael was still struggling to build his career, she had been the one to sit through those brutal business dinners for him, drinking on his behalf. One time, she’d nearly died from alcohol poisoning. The doctor had warned her sternly never to drink again.

Back then, he’d held her in his arms, guilt written all over his face, his eyes red with remorse. He promised he’d get strong enough to protect her, to cherish her, to never let her suffer again.

But feelings change fast and without warning. For Tessa, Alora had been made to endure one humiliation after another.

“I’ll drink,” Alora said quietly. She didn’t bother explaining. There was no point justifying herself to someone who’d already decided not to believe her. She just wanted her locket back so she could leave this painful scene behind.

She glanced at the rows of bottles lined up on the table, and her lips curled in self-mockery. “So if I drink all of these, you’ll give me back my locket?”

Rafael’s eyes darkened. He could feel a storm coming. Somehow, the look on Alora’s face was more unbearable than anything. It felt like she was slipping further and further away, but he was sure she’d never really leave.

After all, Tessa’s health was fragile. Even if Alora only wanted her locket back and didn’t mean to hurt Tessa, the fright Tessa had suffered shouldn’t ruin her last days. Resolute, Rafael ordered, “Drink!”

Alora let out a breath, relieved. His demand meant that once she drank enough to satisfy him, it would be over. The table was loaded with scotch. She blinked, hesitating.

But for the locket, she steeled herself and tipped the first bottle down her throat. It burned like liquid fire, each gulp scorching her heart.

To think loving the wrong person could hurt this much—like being flayed alive and having her bones ground to dust. She had to stop loving Rafael. She had to move on.

“Enough!” Rafael snapped when Alora, face flushed and body swaying, reached for another bottle. He couldn’t watch anymore. He snatched it from her hand and smashed it against the floor. “Take your locket and leave!”

“Tessa…” Rafael’s interruption was momentarily forgotten as Tessa—who hated being second to anyone, especially Alora, the woman who had ‘taken’ Rafael while she was married abroad—couldn’t stand it.

That locket meant everything to Alora. There was no way Tessa was going to let it go. Seeing Rafael about to hand it over, she snatched it and clung to him, putting on a show of distress. “Rafael, my stomach hurts… so much… Am I dying?”

She coughed painfully, a small amount of blood spilling from her lips.

“Tessa!” Alarm shot through Rafael at the sight of her blood. The locket was completely forgotten as he scooped her up and rushed out of the room, leaving Alora alone in the dim, empty space.

After Rafael Holmes swept out with Tessa Guzman cradled in his arms, his friends trailed him to the hospital, all eager to hover and fuss over her. Before long, the lavish suite stood empty—everyone gone except Alora Moore and Patrick Dunn.

Patrick Dunn was the sole heir to the Dunn family, one of Washington, D.C.'s most powerful families. He and Rafael were like brothers, practically inseparable growing up. They'd lost touch for a few years while Patrick was abroad, but when he returned six months ago, he heard what Rafael had been through.

Rafael's other friends had written Alora off simply because they figured Rafael didn't care about her. Patrick's contempt ran deeper. It came from his fierce protectiveness of Tessa—a woman he loved like a sister.

When he was ten, on a volunteer trip with his father to a remote European village, Patrick survived a devastating earthquake and ended up trapped beneath the rubble beside Tessa. His injuries were so bad he couldn't even cry out. If not for her constant urging and comfort, he might never have made it until rescue came.

Tessa was sharp, radiant, regal—a proud, cold beauty. Next to her, Alora seemed to fade, striking face or not.

“Alora, how dare you send thugs after my Tessa? You deserve exactly what's coming to you!” Patrick's accusation sliced through the air while Alora stared, dazed, toward the door Rafael had disappeared through.

For a moment, she went still. Tessa? The name hit somewhere deep. It had been her childhood nickname, too. Only someone from her past—someone who'd been trapped with her in the rubble sixteen years ago—would ever call her that. But that boy hadn't been able to speak, and she'd never learned his name. The keepsake he'd given her had been stolen years ago, cutting the last thread between them.

Patrick's disgust deepened as he took in her bloodied face. To him, Rafael's involvement with her proved nothing but bad judgment—or desperation. His loathing boiled over. He snatched a glass of wine and dumped it over her head without a flicker of hesitation. “If you dare trouble Tessa again, I'll make you regret the day you were born!”

“I never harmed Tessa!” Alora shot back, her voice steady despite the throbbing wound on her forehead. The liquor burned her skin, and she trembled like a leaf in a storm. Still, that stubborn fire inside her hauled her to her feet. She summoned every ounce of strength and slapped Patrick across the face. “I said it before, and I'll say it again: one side of the story doesn't make me guilty! Call the police if you want—even they need proof, and Tessa's word isn't proof!”

“And you had no right to throw a drink in my face!”

Patrick froze for a full half minute. When his expression returned, he was seething. He was the epitome of privilege, always surrounded by sycophants and flatterers. The idea that someone would strike him—especially a woman he held in contempt—was unthinkable. If he weren't above hitting women, he would have enjoyed breaking her spirit.

His eyes burned into hers. Alora could feel the danger rolling off him, but she didn't regret it. She watched him warily, refusing to retreat an inch. “You started this,” she said. “I only hit back after you provoked me.”

Her boldness should have enraged him further, but somehow it amused him even through his fury. Rafael's taste in women got more questionable by the minute. Jaw tight, Patrick picked up another drink.

She was clearly terrified he might get physical, yet her stubborn pride kept her standing tall, unwilling to back down. Blood still trickled from her wound, streaking her pale face red, making her look even more pitiful. But her eyes blazed with defiance, cutting through the gloom around her. That spark stopped his hand. The drink never reached her.

Still, he couldn't let her off the hook for upsetting Tessa. He flung the glass to the floor. Shards skittered around her feet. “Stay out of Rafael's business,” he warned, his voice cold as ice. “Marrying him is Tessa's dying wish. If you get in the way of their relationship again, you'll regret it.”

Then he yanked the door open and stormed out, letting it slam behind him.

“Crazy,” Alora muttered. Patrick was unhinged. Four years ago, Tessa had abandoned Rafael when he was at his lowest—crippled and broke. Alora had only taken him in after their breakup. How could she have interfered in their relationship?

But none of that mattered anymore. She'd ended things with Rafael. These people were no longer part of her life. All she wanted now was to get back her parents' keepsake.

The alcohol and her injury finally caught up with her. Dizzy and unable to drive herself to the hospital, Alora waited until she'd regained enough strength, then hailed a ride to get her wound treated.

The hospital was unusually packed. By the time she was seen, it was late into the night. The doctor gave her two ointments and told her to apply them regularly to prevent scarring.

When she walked out, snow had started falling, blanketing the city in white. Through the swirling flakes, she spotted Rafael carrying Tessa on his back—a scene ripped straight from a romantic movie.

The sight stabbed at Alora's heart. She wanted to turn away, but Tessa's playful voice stopped her. “Rafael, the doctor said I'm healing well. You don't have to carry me.”

“Put me down, please! I can walk by myself!” Tessa insisted.

“Stop fussing,” Rafael said, his voice warm with exasperation. “It's freezing out here. Let me get you home.”

Tessa tightened her arms around his neck and gave a cheeky command. “If you're going to carry me, then you can only ever carry me. If you carry another girl, I'll be really upset!”

“Oh, look! There's a pastry shop across the street! Rafael, I'm suddenly craving strawberry cake. Would you buy me one?”

Alora glanced across the street at the bakery, famous for its irresistible cakes and open around the clock. Despite the snow, the line of customers stretched out the door.

Not long ago, Alora had come across a video of that popular pastry shop and mentioned wanting to try their strawberry cake. When she saw the long line, Rafael had scoffed and called waiting for cake a waste of time.

But tonight, as the line stretched even longer, he gently settled Tessa into his car and soothed her. “I'll wait in line for it. Cover yourself with the blanket and wait in the car.”

The blanket in his car was one Alora had bought.

“Rafael...” Tessa stopped him. She lifted a leg clad in bright red high heels, her tone teasing as she hooked her leg around him and pulled him down into the backseat with her. Their breath mingled in the close, heated air.

Alora braced herself for what would inevitably come next. Instead, Rafael's eyes cut sharply in her direction, piercing straight through the darkness.