Alex was in the middle of a board meeting when his phone buzzed with Elena's text. He ignored it-this meeting was important, millions of dollars riding on the decisions being made.
But then it buzzed again. And again.
"Excuse me," he said, standing abruptly. "I need to take this."
He stepped out into the hallway, ignoring the surprised looks from the board members. Marcus would smooth it over. Marcus always did.
He opened his messages.
*Okay.*
*I'll take the loan. For Ollie.*
*Thank you. I don't know how to repay you, but I'll find a way.*
Relief flooded through him so intense it was almost painful. He called her immediately.
"Hey," Elena answered, her voice rough like she'd been crying.
"Hey. You're sure about this?"
"No. But Ollie needs the treatment, and I need to stop being too proud to accept help." A pause. "As long as this is really a loan. I will pay you back, Alex. Every penny."
"I know you will. We'll draw up terms, make it official, whatever makes you comfortable."
"Thank you." Her voice broke. "I don't know what I did to deserve you walking into my life, but thank you."
"You didn't have to do anything. You're you, and that's more than enough." He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "I'll set up the transfer today. Dr. Kim should have the funds by Monday."
"Alex-"
"It's done, Elena. Let me do this. Please."
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
They talked for a few more minutes, making plans to see each other that night. When Alex finally hung up and returned to the board room, he found Marcus standing outside, arms crossed.
"That must have been some phone call," his friend said.
"I'm lending money to Elena. For her brother's treatment."
Marcus's eyebrows shot up. "How much money?"
"Does it matter?"
"It might. To your mother. To Victoria. To everyone who has an opinion about how you spend the family fortune."
"It's my money, not theirs."
"Technically, it's the family trust's money until you're thirty-five. Which means your mother has a say." Marcus's expression was sympathetic. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I just want you to think about the ramifications."
"I have thought about them. And I don't care. Ollie needs treatment. Elena needs help. I have the means to provide both. End of story."
"It's never the end of the story with your family."
"Then maybe it's time to write a new story."
Marcus studied him for a long moment. "You're really serious about her."
"I am."
"Serious enough to fight your mother? To potentially walk away from Victoria, from the merger, from everything that's been planned?"
Alex thought about Elena's smile, about the way she looked at him like he was worth something beyond his last name. About Ollie's too-old eyes and dry humor. About feeling like himself for the first time in five years.
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I think I might be."
"Then you better figure it out soon. Because the engagement party is in two and a half weeks, and your mother isn't going to let you back out quietly."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're about to blow up your entire life for a woman you've known less than a week."
"Maybe my life needs blowing up."
Marcus sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "You're an idiot."
"Probably."
"But you're a happy idiot. And I haven't seen you happy in a long time."
"No," Alex agreed. "I haven't been happy in a long time."
They returned to the board meeting. Alex sat through another hour of financial projections and strategic planning, his mind only half-present. The other half was with Elena, thinking about how to tell her the truth about Victoria.
About the engagement party in two and a half weeks.
About the wedding in six months.
About the fact that while he was falling in love with her, he was technically engaged to someone else.
He'd tell her tonight, he decided. After dinner. They'd talk, and he'd explain everything, and somehow they'd figure out how to make this work.
He had to believe that. Because the alternative-losing Elena before he'd really had her-was unthinkable.
But as the meeting droned on, a small voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe some things couldn't be fixed. That maybe he'd waited too long, gotten in too deep, let himself want something he was never meant to have.
He ignored that voice.
He had to.
Because if he listened to it, if he accepted that this was doomed from the start, he'd have to walk away.
And Alexander Hartley had just discovered he was far too selfish to do the right thing.
