Loch, grandson of Caspar Alex, patriarch of the Alex family—one of Chicago's seven ruling dynasties. After a century of power, the Alexes towered over the city. Born into privilege, Loch lived in opulence, his status untouchable. Women swooned over him. A flick of his wrist could summon a throng of admirers desperate for his bed.
To him, women were playthings—even the wife glaring at him now.
Years back, bored of endless flings, Loch flirted with the idea of settling down. The notion passed like a breeze. Then he saw Aurora at a gala, her beauty striking. With his charm and clout, he won her over, and they married. But months in, he chafed. When business called him to Australia, he bolted. Marriage? A chain he'd never wear.
He'd handed the Ural family what they needed, hadn't he?
Now, with Australia wrapped up and Western women stale, he recalled his Chicago wife. On a whim, he flew back, picturing her stunned, rushing into his arms, tears streaming as she confessed her longing. He saw the start, not the end. Her shock was real, but her icy words lit a fuse in him.
"Wife? You call me that?" Aurora sneered. She'd once loved him fiercely, dreaming of a loyal marriage. But he'd crushed her hopes. Years of silence, barely a call—he'd made her nothing. Did he deserve her heart?
Her love had faded. The man who once filled her soul was gone.
"Call it what you want, Aurora—you're mine. Fact. Don't forget it," Loch shot back, his voice sharp as frost. Arrogant as ever, he didn't flinch.
Pain knifed through Aurora. She bit her lip, tasting blood. Same old Loch—overbearing, unreasonable, blind to her worth.
"I'm done. I want a divorce," she said, meeting his dominance head-on.
"Divorce?" Loch's eyes narrowed, as if she'd spoken madness. He'd tossed aside countless women; none dared ditch him. Divorce was his game, not hers. Who did she think she was?
He studied her. She trembled with fury, cheeks flushed, nightgown rumpled, a corner ripped. A smirk twisted his lips.
"Cheating on me, Aurora? Got some guts," Loch growled, charging upstairs. A pro at seduction, he knew the signs of a woman fresh from intimacy. Her look screamed betrayal.
"Cheating? Don't throw lies at me!" Aurora's voice cracked, her eyes flickering with panic. She'd faced tough spots, but this shook her. She'd been with Anirudh minutes ago, his traces still inside—no time to wash away. If Loch saw…
Divorce was survivable. His absence and their dead marriage meant the Alex elders wouldn't care much. Targeting the Urals over it? Laughable.
But infidelity? That hit his ego, the Alex family's pride. To save face, they'd crush the Urals without blinking.
"Lies? Hope so. If I find him, you're finished," Loch snarled, catching her fear. Certain now, he hit the second floor, shoved past her, and started checking rooms.
Amy's room was empty, bed neat. Had he guessed wrong?
But that torn nightgown—why wear it? The rip was fresh.
Not buying it, Loch kicked open another door. Empty, except for men's clothes on the bed.
Slap! His hand cracked across Aurora's face, leaving five red marks.
"Got an excuse now?" Loch roared.
Clutching her stinging cheek, Aurora swallowed her rage. "Amy's boyfriend stayed over," she said coolly.
"Oh, right, your cute little sister," Loch mocked. "Where are they?"
"Amy's upstairs—"
He didn't wait, storming toward the stairs.
"Stop! This is about us—leave Amy out!" Aurora's pulse hammered. She was losing her grip on the lie.
"Leave them out?" Loch's smirk was venomous. His gaze raked her, lingering on her shoulder, then sliding to her thigh, where a faint white trickle caught the light…