A fleeting emotion darkened Alexander's piercing gaze.

Amy continued, her voice steady yet laced with unspoken tension. "I don't need you to seek revenge on Victoria for me. Nor do I want you causing trouble on her behalf. Right now, all I care about is making my concert a success—fulfilling this dream I've held onto for so long."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on Alexander's face, a storm of unvoiced thoughts swirling between them.

"And... I just hope you and Nathan will be okay."

At precisely eight that evening, Amy arrived at Arthur Pendleton's exclusive musical soirée, Benjamin by her side. It had been weeks since she'd last seen him, and tonight, the usual brightness in his expression was shadowed by something heavy.

"Benjamin," she murmured, studying him closely. "What's wrong?"

Before he could answer, a familiar, imposing figure stepped between them, his presence like a sudden chill in the room.

"Amy. We need to talk."

Benjamin moved instantly, positioning himself protectively in front of her, his posture rigid as he faced Alexander. "Whatever you want, say it here."

Alexander barely spared him a glance, his tone dripping with disdain. "You should focus on your own crumbling reputation instead of interfering where you don't belong."

Benjamin's jaw tightened.

Amy frowned, reaching out to touch his arm. "Benjamin, what is he talking about?"

His voice was rough, strained. "...It's nothing."

She wanted to press further, but Alexander's cool, commanding voice cut through the tension.

"This concerns the studio. And Nathan."

Amy's breath hitched. "Benjamin, wait for me here. I won't be long."

"But—" His worry was palpable.

She offered him a small, reassuring smile. "Trust me. He won't do anything."

Benjamin had been her steadfast protector since childhood, a brother in all but blood. On her mother's deathbed, he'd vowed to watch over her. Though he'd occasionally brought up marriage, Amy had always gently dismissed it—there was no romance between them, and he knew it. Yet he believed the only way to truly shield her was to make her his wife.

To avoid prying eyes, Alexander guided her to a secluded lounge. A stack of documents sat on the table. Amy skimmed the top page—a lease transfer agreement.

She'd assumed this was about Nathan, but the name on the contract made her lips curl in bitter amusement. Victoria's studio.

So much for loyalty.

Alexander slid the papers toward her, his voice low and edged with warning. "Sign it."

Amy took the contract, scanning the terms. As expected—he wanted her to surrender the studio to Victoria. In exchange, he offered a staggering sum, more than generous by any measure.

Still...

"I assume Nathan and Victoria told you my terms," she said coolly.

Alexander's gaze darkened. "You know that's not happening."

She shook her head, regret flashing in her eyes. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."

Alexander leaned in, his presence suddenly suffocating, danger simmering beneath his controlled tone.

"Sign it. Remove Nathan's name from the headlines. Admit you orchestrated the smear campaign against Victoria's studio, and I'll let this go. You'll still walk away with the money."

Amy arched a brow, feigning innocence. "What smear campaign?"

The air between them crackled with unspoken threats.