Chapter 3 03

Cara stares at her trusty steed: her black-as-night motorcycle. It's been in the family for ages, and it's got a story to tell. Martin Green was on this bike when he met Brianna, and Brianna may or may not have stopped to listen to what Martin had to say because of that cool bike. Cara waited years to get this bike from her dad. She even had to reject her mum's truck, which was to be given to her when she turned 16.

It wasn't a hard choice. The truck was horrible.

Cara finally got the motorbike when she was 18, and she was the happiest girl in the world. The confidence it brings to her is addictive. Like a junkie to their fix. There's something about the rush she gets when the engine roars to life, something primal that gets under her skin and settles in her bones. The wind in her hair, the world whizzing past her like a blur-this is her element. She's fast, in control, and untouchable. For the first time in her life, she feels free.

But now, standing outside St. Rose Hospital, Cara is faced with a decision that she knows will change everything. It gnaws at her insides. Selling her bike would give her enough money to help with her dad's medical bills. It's practical. Logical. But the thought of parting with it, of losing this piece of herself, makes her stomach churn. The idea of selling an organ doesn't sound so far-fetched anymore.

But she won't make that decision standing in front of a hospital, not when the air smells like antiseptic and fear. She needs to clear her head. Cara opens her leather jacket and throws it over her shoulder, struggling to wear it. It's small for her now, yet another thing she has to get rid of but won't. The jacket is frayed at the edges, the leather worn smooth with years of use, but it's hers. A part of her.

She shakes out her luscious curls, letting them flow free in the wind, and sets her sights on her bike parked across the street. Her mind begins to wander, the familiar rumble of the engine in her memory. Her heart beats a little faster.

Just as she's about to cross, a snooty Range Rover comes barreling out of nowhere, colliding with her precious motorcycle and sending it crashing to the ground. Cara is frozen in place, shell-shocked. « What the hell just happened? »

The culprit, a middle-aged man with a stiff posture and no regard for the damage he's caused, peels off into the distance, leaving Cara to simmer in her own rage. The sound of tires screeching and the crunch of metal ringing in her ears is enough to snap her out of her daze.

And just like that, the fuse is lit. Cara's got murder on the mind. She sprints across the street, her boots pounding the pavement, fury surging through her veins. Her bike. Her freedom. It's ruined. She pushes past pedestrians, barely noticing them as she struggles to reach her bike, cursing under her breath at how heavy the thing is.

The scratch on it is massive. The metal's dented in several places, and the once-glossy black paint is now marred with a long, angry streak of silver. Cara runs her fingers over the damaged bike, her chest tightening with every touch. She knows someone's gotta pay for this. There's no way in hell she's letting that man get away with it.

Without a second thought, Cara hops on her bike, the anger bubbling in her stomach and rising up her throat. She grabs the keys from her back pocket and revs the engine. The sound of the bike roaring to life is like a shot of adrenaline straight to her heart. Her fingers grip the handles, and the world shrinks down to just her and that Range Rover.

The tires spin on the asphalt, and she takes off, a blur of black leather and fury chasing after the man who's made the mistake of messing with her bike.

The sound of the impact jolts Marco's nerves. His hand trembles on the steering wheel as he tries to make sense of what just happened. It's his first day on the job. His first day as a personal driver for Alexander Black, the notorious business mogul, and he's already screwed up.

He can't afford to screw up. Not with his pregnant wife and triplets on the way. He's only just gotten the job, and one mistake could cost him everything. But what did he hit? He's not sure.

« What was that? » Marco asks, trying to sound casual. His voice cracks slightly, betraying the panic building in his chest.

« It's nothing, sir. » He tries to reassure Alexander, his boss, but the words feel hollow. He can feel Alexander's cold gaze burning into him from the back seat, even though he's not looking. Marco knows the truth. Alexander can see right through him.

Alexander Black, the man whose reputation precedes him like a shadow, is a force to be reckoned with. Marco has heard the stories. Seen the headlines. Alexander is a business mogul, ruthless, calculating. He's the kind of man who gets what he wants, and he's never afraid to step on people to get there.

But today, it's clear that even Alexander Black has his own demons. He sits in the back of the car, his eyes glued to his phone screen, scrolling through a seemingly endless stream of blog posts.

The name Liza Woods catches Marco's eye as Alexander swipes the screen. She's everywhere. Her face beams up at him in photo after photo, all sweetness and light. But Marco can tell, from the way Alexander's jaw tightens, that she's anything but sweet. There's history there. And it's not good.

Liza's face smiles up at him, and for a moment, Alexander seems to lose himself in the past. He can't tear his gaze away, no matter how hard he tries. His fingers hover over the screen, scrolling through the latest scandal, the latest rumors. Every word in the blogs is like a dagger, twisting deeper into his gut.

Liza thrives on attention like this. She's always been that way. But Alexander knows that he could crush her, use his power to destroy her reputation, to bury her once and for all. He's done it before. He's capable of it.

But something holds him back. He's not sure what. It makes him sick to his stomach.

« Sir, we're approaching the company. » Marco's voice shakes as he glances at Alexander through the rearview mirror.

Alexander's gaze shifts, though he doesn't seem to register the words. His thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess of his past and present. The paparazzi are waiting. The cameras are ready to snap. He's dreading what's to come. The rumors, the lies, the endless questions. They'll swarm him as soon as he steps outside.

He doesn't care. At least not today.

The car slows as they pull into the company's parking lot, the press already beginning to gather. Alexander tightens his grip on the armrest, bracing himself. He's about to step into the storm.