Chapter 153: Trash pt 2

"Be quiet," Kian interrupted, his tone flat, cold enough to freeze water. He turned to the older man, his posture shifting instantly into something smooth, controlled, and deeply apologetic.

"Mr. Edward, please. Let my driver take her to the private clinic immediately. I will cover every medical expense, and we will settle this quietly."

"Quietly?!" the man shouted, holding his bleeding daughter. "She attacked my daughter! She could have killed her!"

"I understand," Kian said softly, stepping between the man and Alice, keeping his body positioned so Alice was completely blocked from view.

"I completely understand your anger. I will personally ensure this is made right. Whatever terms we discussed downstairs for the logistics deal... consider them revised in your favor by ten percent."

The old man stopped shouting. He looked at his daughter, then back at Kian. Ten percent on that contract meant millions.

"Get her out of my sight," the man growled, taking his daughter toward the exit as security cleared a path.

Kian waited until the section cleared out. He didn’t yell at Alice. He didn’t even look at her again in the club. He motioned for his team to handle the press, paid off the venue manager on the spot, and ordered a private car to the side entrance.

Vivienne was sent home in a separate cab, leaving Alice to sit alone in the back of Kian’s dark Mercedes.

The ride to the Kingston estate was dead silent.

The driver kept his eyes fixed strictly on the road ahead. Kian sat on the far right side of the leather seat, staring out the blacked-out window at the passing streetlights.

He didn’t touch his phone. He didn’t ask her if she was okay. He simply existed beside her like a block of ice.

When the heavy iron gates of the estate opened and the car pulled up to the main entrance, Kian got out first. He walked inside without waiting for her.

Alice hurried after him, her heels clicking loudly against the quiet stone driveway. She followed him into the grand foyer, where the high ceilings made every small sound echo.

Kian threw his coat onto the back of an armchair and walked straight toward the bar, pouring himself two fingers of whiskey.

Alice couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence was suffocating her, wrapping around her neck like a tight cord.

"Are you not going to say anything to me?" she asked, her voice shaking as she stood near the edge of the rug.

Kian didn’t turn around. He took a slow sip of his drink. "What do you want me to say, Alice?"

"Anything!" she yelled, stepping closer.

"You’re acting like I did something insane! You didn’t hear what those snobs were saying about me! You didn’t hear how they talked down to me!"

Kian turned around slowly. His face was unreadable, his eyes dark and exhausted. He set his glass down on the wooden counter with a soft click.

"So you hit a man’s daughter over the head with a bottle," Kian said softly. "In a room full of people with phones."

"She called me a whore!" Alice spat, tears of frustration finally spilling over her eyelashes.

"She said I was a gutter bitch who slept her way to the top! She called me your secretary! Am I supposed to just stand there and take that?!"

"Yes," Kian said.

Alice froze. "What?"

"Yes," Kian repeated, walking toward her, his hands buried deep in his trousers pockets.

"You should have ignored them. You should have walked away."

"They were insulting me, Kian!"

"And you gave them exactly what they wanted," Kian said, stopping a few feet in front of her. His voice wasn’t angry. It was analytical, completely devoid of warmth.

"They wanted to prove that you don’t belong in that room. They wanted to show everyone that under the nice dress and the title I gave you, you’re still wild, uncontrolled, and cheap. And you handed it to them on a silver platter."

Alice stared at him, her mouth opening slightly. "You’re taking their side?"

"I’m looking at facts," Kian said coldly. "Do you have any idea what I had to sign away in that room just to keep Mr. Edward from calling the police? Do you know how many months of work I just lost because you couldn’t keep your temper under control for five minutes?"

"I did it because I was defending us!" Alice cried, taking a step toward him. "They were mocking our relationship!"

"There is no ’us’ if you can’t survive in that world, Alice," Kian said flatly. He looked down at her, his posture rigid.

"If you are going to stand beside me... if you are ever going to be my wife... you need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut."

Alice felt the air leave her lungs.

’If.’

She blinked, stepping back as if he had slapped her. "If?"

Kian didn’t answer. He just watched her.

"If?" Alice repeated, her voice rising into a sharp, hysterical laugh. "You said ’if’! Kian, we’ve been together for months! I stayed with you through the entire ordeal, I did everything for you! What do you mean ’if’?!"

"I mean," Kian said slowly, each word deliberate, "that being my wife is not a right you inherit by default. It’s a position. And right now, you are demonstrating every single day that you are not ready for it."

"You promised me!" Alice screamed, hitting her fist against his chest. "You told me once Isabella was gone, it would be my turn! You promised me!"

Kian didn’t move. He let her hit him once, then grabbed her wrist. He didn’t hurt her, but his grip was firm enough to lock her in place.

He looked at her red, tear-streaked face, her ruined makeup, her frantic breathing, and he felt a wave of profound irritation rise in his chest.

She was becoming loud. She was becoming needy. She was demanding things she hadn’t earned.

But he couldn’t afford a complete breakdown tonight. He needed her calm. He needed her controlled.

Kian lowered his head. The harsh edge in his eyes softened, replaced instantly by the warm, gentle look he used whenever he needed her to stop asking questions.

"Alice," he whispered, his voice dropping into a soft, soothing murmur. He let go of her wrist and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. "Stop. Look at me."

Alice tried to push away, but he held her tight, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I didn’t say I don’t want you," Kian breathed into her hair, rubbing his hand slowly up and down her back. "You’re overthinking again. You always do this when you get overwhelmed."

"You said ’if’," she sobbed into his shirt.

"I said you need to be careful," Kian corrected smoothly, his voice sweet, almost hypnotic.

"Because I care about you. I don’t want those people dragging your name through the mud, and I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’m trying to protect you, Alice. Why can’t you see that?"

Alice leaned into his touch, her strength draining away as his hands stroked her spine. She wanted so desperately to believe him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline.

"They said... they said she’s getting married," Alice murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.

Kian’s hand paused for a fraction of a second on her back, then resumed its steady rhythm. "Who?"

"Isabella," Alice whispered. She pulled back slightly, her hands shaking as she reached into her small purse, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen before holding it up between them.

"Look. It’s everywhere. Aaron Kazarov’s people confirmed the date. They’re doing it privately, but it’s real. She’s really marrying him."

Kian took the phone from her hand.

He looked at the bright screen. The headline burned into his eyes in bold black letters.

’ISABELLA KINGSTON AND AARON KAZAROV. WEDDING DATE CONFIRMED.’

A man at the lounge table had mentioned it earlier as a joke, calling it a quick rebound. Kian had dismissed it as gossip, assuming Aaron was just playing a game to frustrate him.

But seeing it here, laid out in black and white on a news page, hit him somewhere deep in his chest. A sudden, cold weight settled in his stomach.

She was actually doing it.

She wasn’t hiding in a room somewhere crying over her lost life. She was marrying the most dangerous man in the city, taking his name, putting his power behind her back.

Kian’s face remained completely still. Not a single muscle moved.

"And?" Kian said, his voice smooth, completely indifferent as he handed the phone back to Alice. "What does that have to do with us?"

Alice looked at his calm face, surprised by how little he seemed to care. Relief washed over her like warm water.

"Well," Alice said, stepping closer, her tone shifting, becoming lighter, almost excited. "If she’s already moving on... if the press is already talking about her getting married... then doesn’t that mean we don’t have to hide anymore? We don’t have to wait for people to forget the divorce. We can announce our own date!"

Kian looked down at her. "Announce our date?"

"Yes!" Alice smiled, her eyes bright with a sudden, desperate hope. "If we put out our own announcement tomorrow, no one will call me a mistress anymore! It will drown out her news! We can show everyone that you’ve moved on too, that you’re happy, that I’m the one who belongs beside you!"

Kian watched her.

His mind worked fast, weighing the options.

An announcement with Alice would be noisy. It would look rushed to some. But to the public? It would look like he didn’t care at all about Isabella’s new marriage.

It would control the narrative, framing both sides as having moved on to new lives. It would keep Alice quiet and obedient for the next few weeks.

And most importantly, it would prove to the board that he wasn’t sitting around sulking over a lost heiress.

"Fine," Kian said quietly.

Alice blinked, caught off guard. "Fine?"

"I’ll have my team draft a press release tomorrow morning," Kian said, a tiny, practice-perfect smile appearing on his lips. "We’ll confirm our relationship and hint at an upcoming winter date."

"Oh my god!" Alice gasped. She let out a breathless laugh and threw her arms around his neck, jumping slightly as she kissed his cheek, then his lips. "Thank you! Kian, thank you!"

She pressed herself against him, kissing him deeply, her mood doing a complete turn. The tears, the anger, the humiliation at the club... it all vanished, replaced by the rush of winning.

Kian held her, returning the kiss with just enough warmth to make it feel real to her.

Alice buried her head in his shoulder, holding onto his suit jacket, feeling safer and more secure than she had in months. She was finally getting what she wanted. She was going to be Mrs. Carter.

Over her shoulder, Kian stared straight at the dark glass window at the end of the foyer.

His smile disappeared completely.

His eyes were cold, hollow, staring out into the night.

The house was silent around them, but in his head, the headline kept repeating over and over again.

She’s really going to marry him.

Kian’s jaw tightened as his fingers dug slightly into Alice’s back, his expression turning dark, dangerous, and completely empty.