**Chapter 4** Victoria's voice wavered with a blend of defiance and exhaustion as she protested, “I swear, I’m not completely soaked from the rain. Besides, I feel perfectly fine.” With an air of determination, she walked over to Alaric’s polished desk and delicately placed the report from the previous day onto the surface. “Here’s yesterday’s summary. I’ve organized everything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get back to. Enjoy your reunion, you two.” Her gaze flickered to Claudia, who shot her a warm smile, but the brief moment of connection did little to soften her heavy heart. As she exited the room, Alaric’s brow furrowed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily upon him. “Alaric?” Claudia’s gentle voice cut through his spiraling mind, breaking the trance of contemplation he had unwittingly slipped into. The confusion in her tone hinted at her concern as she continued, “You know, Victoria isn’t looking her best. She may be your secretary now, but she’s the daughter of the Selwyns—before everything went awry. You mustn't be too hard on her.” Too hard on her? Alaric internally snorted at the absurdity. How could anyone ever be hard on a woman like her? Yet, he held his tongue, merely grunting in acknowledgment, masking the tumult of emotions raging within. Meanwhile, Victoria trudged back to her office, each step heavy with weariness and sorrow. The weight in her head felt insurmountable. As soon as she sank into her chair, she let her body droop over her desk like a wilted flower. The onset of dizziness enveloped her, clouding her senses in a haze. Time passed in a blur until Yasmin’s voice broke through the fog. “Victoria, why don’t you just go home and rest?” A wave of lethargy crashed over her, and all she could muster was a faint whisper, “Yasmin, let me sleep for a while.” In an instant, she surrendered to oblivion, drifting into a dream that transported her back to her eighteenth year—a pivotal moment in her young life. That fateful day was adorned with a vibrant celebration, her coming-of-age party. Surrounded by joy, she felt a swell of excitement as she donned her favorite blue dress, styled her hair to perfection, and adorned her nails—each detail carefully considered for what she hoped would culminate in a beautiful confession of love to Alaric. After what felt like hours of searching, she finally found him, nestled in the garden, laughter spilling from him and his friends like a joyous melody. As she approached, she overheard the banter swirling around him. “You’re an adult now, Al. Any special girls in mind? Maybe it’s time for an engagement?” one voice teased. “Victoria’s quite lovely. She’s always by your side,” another chimed in, igniting a flicker of hope within her. The moment was critical; his reaction would dictate the course of her heart. Yet, just as she poised to hear his response, another voice cut through the air. “Victoria’s just impossible. Al only sees her as a little sister. Everyone knows he’s hooked on Claudia.” Claudia... Victoria’s heart dropped as she snuck a glance at Alaric. In that ethereal twilight, he lounged on a stone bench, his long legs barely grazing the ground, a faint smile gracing his lips as he accepted their playful jests. Bane Morison, ever the instigator among Alaric's friends, was the one who had nudged the topic, relishing each word. “Claudia is elegant, gentle, and absolutely beautiful. But Victoria? She’s just a child. Besides, Claudia saved Alaric’s life, right?” he bragged, reveling in the attention. Alaric nodded slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that sent a piercing ache through Victoria. Beneath the glow of the moonlight, he spoke, his voice steady and unwavering, “The spot beside me will always be hers.” At those words, Victoria felt as if the very ground had crumbled beneath her. A chilling numbness swept through her as blood drained from her face, leaving her trembling. Her confession was dashed before it even had a chance to surface. Claudia had been the one to save him, and now their friends regaled the tale as if it were a cherished story—heroes rescuing their damsels, but in this twist of fate, it was a woman saving a man. Unbeknownst to them all, Victoria had been swept away by that very river, a victim herself, only later succumbing to illness and forgetfulness. She had been oblivious, lost in the throes of a fever that stripped her of those vital memories. If only... if only she could have been the one to rescue him. In her dream, the emotions of that youthful longing twisted and intertwined with her present despair, as a heavy boulder settled in her chest. Why had she not been the one to reach him in that drowning moment? The thought became a haunting mantra, echoing in her mind until it stung with the sharpness of regret. Suddenly, Alaric materialized before her, his eyes devoid of warmth, as frigid as ice. “Abort the baby, Victoria,” he commanded, his tone icy. Claudia was by his side, her delicate arms encircling him like creeping vines. “Are you holding onto the baby just to ruin our love?” she questioned, her voice sweet yet laced with poison. At the mention of ‘ruin,’ Alaric’s eyes hardened further. He stepped closer, gripping Victoria’s chin with a force that sent pain racing across her skin. “Behave, or I will take matters into my own hands.” The pressure felt unbearable, as though he could shatter her jaw with the intensity of his hold. Struggling against the agony, Victoria jolted awake, her body slick with cold sweat and terror. Her gaze shot to the window, where the busy highway zipped by, a stark reminder that she was awake now. But was it truly just a dream? Why did it resonate with an unsettling realism that made her heart ache? “Oh, you’re awake, Victoria.” Claudia’s soft voice broke through her thoughts, concern etched on her features as she leaned closer. “Thank goodness. I was so worried about you.” Why is she here? It struck Victoria like a lightning bolt as she turned to face the driver—Alaric himself, with Claudia settled in the passenger seat beside him. As if sensing her return to consciousness, Alaric’s gaze flicked to hers in the rearview mirror. “You’re awake. What hurts? You need to tell the doctor everything when we arrive at the hospital.” Panic surged through Victoria’s veins, a remnant of her nightmarish dream still clawing at her heart. She finally calmed herself, but his words sent her anxiety spiraling once more. “No. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine.” His gaze darkened with concern as he replied sharply, “Why are you making a fuss? Don’t you realize you have a fever?” Claudia leaned in, her worry mirroring Alaric’s. “Yes, Victoria, you’re burning up. You must go to the hospital. Al told me you got drenched walking home in the rain yesterday. What happened?” What happened? Victoria stared at Claudia, her pale lips moving in silent contemplation, yet she couldn’t find her voice. Claudia had witnessed the events; her curiosity dripped with implication. Moments later, a flicker of guilt crossed Claudia’s face, whispering, “Is it because of yesterday—" “Enough,” Alaric’s deep voice cut through the tension, unyielding. “We’re going to the hospital first. You need to rest for the next few days until you’re better. Don’t worry about the office right now.” Claudia cast a puzzled look at him, confusion etched across her brow at his abruptness, while Victoria felt the chill of frustration settling in, her eyes becoming icy as she huddled within her own thoughts. He was fiercely protective of those he cared for. A long, contemplative silence engulfed the car, stretching on like an eternity, before Victoria finally summoned the strength to respond, “I won’t go to the hospital.” His frown deepened, a mix of concern and annoyance mingling in his expression. She was resolute—a stubbornness that frustrated him. “What’s your plan? How can you ignore the pain and refuse medical help when you’re sick?” he persisted, his voice firm. “I know my body,” she shot back defiantly, her lips pressed together, unwilling to yield to his demands. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, each determined in their stance, neither willing to bend.