Chapter 6

"Mom, I'm moving back to the villa starting tonight." Alexander didn't say a word until Henrietta had finished venting. Then he stood and gently helped her to the couch. "Your health matters most. If you're not feeling well, head home and rest." "Back to the villa? Are you serious, Alexander? That woman is manipulative and dangerous! She plotted with the Jordans to scam us, and you still want to stay with her?" Henrietta had just calmed down when her son's indifferent attitude lit the fire again—her lips trembled in fury. Samantha, sitting at the dining table, just kept eating, like their shouting match had nothing to do with her. She was in this house under her sister's name for one reason—to make sure those who'd hurt Caitlin paid the price. Even if she ended up divorcing Alexander, she'd make sure the Perkins family was flipped upside down before walking away. Alexander looked at Samantha, who remained totally unfazed, and a subtle smirk tugged at his lips. "I'll handle her." Henrietta's eyes widened. She was caught off guard by her son's tone. "You're defending her now? Since when? I thought you couldn't stand her!" "Lucas, take Mom home. And let my brother know—I'm not dropping by tonight," Alexander ordered calmly, ignoring his mother's accusations. Mixed with frustration and confusion, Henrietta was escorted out, and the silence that followed in the villa felt suffocating. Samantha finished off her red wine and stood to leave. "Stop right there." Alexander's voice came from the couch—cold and low. She paused, turned to look at him with unbothered eyes, but her posture subtly shifted, on alert. His gaze darkened, every bit of him radiating the kind of intensity that made it feel like he could crush her with it. "I've never kept you here against your will. If you hated being in this house so much, why come back?" She shot him a sarcastic smile. "Guess I was worried your lives were getting too peaceful. Figured I should stick around and let you all keep belittling and tormenting me." That just fueled his rage more. He reached out, grabbed her chin, locking eyes with her like he was peering into her soul. "Tell me the truth." "The truth? Funny," Samantha said flatly, her tone sharp. "None of you ever treated me honestly. Now you want truth?" She shoved his hand away and raised her chin, eyes clear and defiant. "Caitlin, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Watching her stand there like that, so stubborn and proud—it hit Alexander, and he didn't know why it got to him like that. She scoffed, voice dripping with mockery. "You all pushed me to the edge, then have the nerve to ask why I snapped?" He stared at her as she continued with a steady voice, "Didn't you want the truth? Fine. The old Caitlin? You all drove her to her death. The person in front of you now—you can't handle her." His gaze flickered. There was something wild and fearless in her eyes—bright, beautiful, and totally untamed. For the first time in years, Alexander felt like something had slipped out of his control. He—the almighty CEO of the Perkins Group in Lichester, with companies across the globe, an empire at his feet. Everyone obeyed him. Always. No one dared step out of line. No one except her. And this woman—Samantha—was the only person who'd ever made him feel powerless. That feeling? It drove him insane. His jaw clenched as anger flickered across his face. In a flash, he grabbed her by the arm and flung her onto the couch. His voice, cold as ice, cut through the air. "All of you—out." Not even ten seconds later, every servant had vanished, leaving just the two of them staring each other down.Alexander leaned down, towering over Samantha. His sharp features were set in an icy chill, eyes dark and unreadable. "Let go," Samantha said coldly. As she reached out to push him away, he grabbed her arm tightly. She glared at him, stunning face full of defiance. "What are you trying to pull, Alexander?" His voice was cold and low, dripping with sarcasm. "Telling my mother I'm not interested in women? Really played it clean. Pissed her off completely. Pretty clever of you." "If I wasn't clever, I'd have been crushed by you people long ago," Samantha scoffed, her tone full of disdain. Her scorn made him frown hard. Alexander wasn't used to being looked down on—he was the one who did the dismissing, not the other way around. "Alright then. Since you're so eager to tell everyone I won't touch you, I might as well prove you wrong. Can't have you going around saying I'm not interested in women." His gaze turned sharp and in the next second, he pushed closer, pinning her arms and crushing his lips onto hers. There was no room for resistance. But then—he met those eyes. "You bastard, Alexander!" Her eyes, flushed red with rage, were full of pure hate. His body froze for a split second, then he forced himself to steady his breathing. "Let go of me." The command was ice-cold as it came from her lips, her face twisted in disgust. He had stepped in thinking he was taking control, that he was turning things around. For him, women were never a problem to conquer. But the way she looked at him, like she couldn't stand to be near him—somehow, that cut deeper than expected. Caught off guard, he let go, and Samantha shot straight up the stairs. Only when the door slammed shut with a bang did she finally exhale, practically cursing Alexander a thousand times in her head. That disgusting jerk. Total psycho. She angrily stripped off her clothes, heading for the shower. Her phone lit up—a WhatsApp message from Ethan. "Are you free? I'm outside." Her eyes narrowed. Her fingers flew across the screen. "Sure. Coming." It was her first day back at the Perkins' place and Ethan already messaged her—was there something he forgot to tell her? Still puzzling it over, she opened the wardrobe and randomly pulled out one of Caitlin's outfits. Caitlin always leaned toward muted tones—especially teal. Aside from the basic black and white, almost all her clothes were loose-fitting cotton-linen, hardly anything that hugged the waist. Both sisters had studied fashion design, but Caitlin's aesthetic leaned soft, pastoral, almost dreamy. Samantha, on the other hand, preferred bold, curve-hugging styles that made a statement. Their personalities were just as different. By the time she headed downstairs, Alexander had left. She walked straight out of the house toward a Rolls-Royce parked a little ways off. The second she got in, Ethan looked stunned. "Uncle Ethan, what's up?" she asked. He didn't speak at first, just stared at her, gaze softening. Then he reached out, almost brushing her cheek. Samantha instantly leaned back, raising a hand to block his. Her brows furrowed. "You're thinking about Caitlin, huh?" Ethan flinched and quickly retracted his hand, clearly uncomfortable with his moment of weakness. "Sorry. That teal dress... it was Caitlin's favorite. She said wearing clothes she designed made her feel at ease. No matter how upset she was, they always made her feel better." "Got it. I won't wear it again," Samantha said coolly. Ethan felt a sudden, inexplicable ache in his chest.