Chapter Fifty Six

Chris froze, his gaze locked on the sly smile curling across Alex’s face. Isa’s words echoed in his mind.“I heard you were gone.”

No one had ever been close to him except Alex. He had never told Alex about his past, but discovering they once attended the same school as Isa had unsettled him. For a moment, he had wondered if Alex already knew who he was. He had pushed the thought aside back then—but now, the way Alex smiled told him everything.

What did Alex know? Why had he told Isa that I was dead?A chill ran down Chris’ spine.

“Did you tell Isa I was dead?” He stepped closer, his voice sharp. “What do you know about me? What—”

Alex’s smirk cut him off. His smile darkened as he tightened his grip on Isa. She yelped, eyes stinging with tears, struggling to free her wrist from his hold. “What I know?” Alex snorted. His voice dropped into a cruel whisper. “Everything. Everything, Steven.”

Chris’s blood boiled at the sound of his name twisted in mockery. Veins swelled beneath his skin.

“Including how your wife died.” Alex clicked his tongue. “And now, I’m trying to protect Isa… so she won’t end up like Stacy.”

“Shut up!” Chris roared, grabbing Alex’s collar and shoving him backward.

Alex’s hold on Isa slipped, and she darted behind Chris. Alex staggered, laughing low. He steadied himself against the car’s mirror, his smirk never fading.

Chris’s chest heaved, his heartbeat hammering like it wanted to break free. Pain stabbed through his head, his vision blurred, and the world swayed around him. He steadied himself against the car, his nails digging into the metal until they cracked.

Isa’s eyes widened in panic. She reached for his arm—but Alex pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at her. “Do you think I’d let you have her?” He cocked his head.

Chris squinted, struggling to focus. His blurred vision made it hard to see Alex’s face, but he could make out the dangerous glint in his eyes. He grimaced as his body burned, slick with sweat. For a heartbeat, he thought this was it—that he might finally die. His gaze fell on the gun in Alex’s hand, then flicked to Isa. His eyes stung with tears. If his body betrayed him now, he would fail her—fail Isa too. One of Chris’s hands clutched his head as he gritted his teeth.

But why Isa? If Alex was obsessed with her, why threaten to kill her instead of me? It didn’t make sense.

Chris’s breath rattled as he forced words out, each one tearing through him. “If you want her… then kill me. Why point the gun at her?”

Isa’s fists clutched her pants, her body trembling as she stood between the two men.

Alex let out a sharp laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as though something about the moment amused him. His gaze shifted to Isa.

“Oh, Isa,” he drawled. “Would you still want me… if I killed him right here?” He nudged the gun toward her. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll spare you.”

Chris watched Isa’s lips quiver as her eyes shimmered with unsteady tears. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, too afraid to speak.

Did she still care after everything I’d done to her?

“You never mattered to him!” Alex shouted. His hand shook, the gun wavering in the air. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “He never loved you! Why do you still care?” His voice cracked, bitterness spilling into every word. “Do you want to die for him, Isa? You think I won’t shoot you? I killed Stacy because she loved him!”

Alex’s last word echoed in Chris’s skull, and he grunted. Then—flames engulfed him. Smoke choked his lungs. The roof caved in with a deafening crack. Shrill, endless screams clawed at his ears. Rough, unyielding hands dragged him back from the blaze as he fought to reach the house.

Your last warning. Divorce Chris, or you die.

I burned Chris’s parents and cousin alive. Do you want to end up the same?

Anyone close to Chris dies. Stacy, stay away from him.

“But the prophetess—”

“She works for me,” Alex cut him off. He let out an exaggerated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair until the strands fell loose over his face. “I wanted to lure your Stacy to her death,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “But instead, she burned.”

Chris’s stomach lurched. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles bled white. Alex had been his doctor for seven years. After Stacy’s death, he had trusted him—followed his advice to hire a personal assistant, considered the surgery he recommended. He had never seen it. Never suspected the truth lurking behind the mask.

A bitter laugh tore from Chris’s throat, his head pounding like iron bands tightened around his skull.

“Why?” Chris’s voice cracked, raw with grief. “What for?”

For years, he had asked himself that question—why death stalked everyone he loved, why he was the one left behind. Guilt had consumed him, isolation had become his only companion. He had longed for death, refused surgery, surrendered to despair.

But now, the man who held the answers stood before him.

“Why?!” Chris roared, grabbing Alex’s collar again, though his hands trembled so badly that Alex slipped free.

“Everything I had was destroyed because of you.” “Alex tore Chris’s grip from his collar and slammed him against the car.

Chris slammed into the metal and collapsed to the ground.

“Chris!” Isa gasped, rushing forward, but Alex aimed the gun at her again, daring her to move. She froze.

Chris groaned, slumping weakly against the car. Isa’s hands trembled, hovering as if to reach for Chris, but fear rooted her in place.

Alex crouched before him; a cruel smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Why?” His voice dripped venom. “Because I couldn’t stand to see you happy.”

Chris lifted his head, his eyes hollow with disbelief. “I only knew you as my doctor.” His words scraped out in a low, broken scoff.

“I became your doctor because I wanted to watch you suffer,” Alex stressed. “I wanted to kill everyone you cared about. I wanted to ruin you.” He stood, his voice tightening with rage. “My family was burned alive… by your father!” Alex tore off his shirt, revealing the burned scars that marred half his back.

Isa’s hands flew to her mouth at the sight of the scar, her eyes widening, tears welling. Chris’s mind reeled at the deep, angry scar twisting across Alex’s back—skin melted and warped, fire etched into him forever.

“I’m Anthony. Remember that name.” Alex’s eyes turned icy, piercing Chris as if they were drilling straight into his chest. “Your father’s business partner’s son.”

Chris’s eyes narrowed as memory stirred—the fight between his father and a man over money, the heated threats, the way it had ended abruptly when Chris walked in. He remembered the news weeks later: the man’s house burned to ashes, his family dead. The police had called it a gas explosion. Chris had believed them. He had let himself believe.

Now, the truth clawed its way out.

“No…” Chris shook his head, veins bulging as he rose to his feet. “My father would never do that. Never!”

Memories of his father—gentle smiles, helping hands, the calm hours spent painting—flashed through him. “He wasn’t that kind of man!” Chris shoved Alex back, his voice breaking.

Alex staggered, then lunged with a punch that cracked across Chris’s face.

Isa screamed, covering her ears, her voice breaking through sobs. “Please! Please stop this!”

“I lost everything because of your father!” Alex roared.

Chris stumbled, blood dripping from his nose, his vision darkening again. His knees buckled, the world spinning until he collapsed against the car with a grunt.

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