**Chapter 9** The moment Alaric's voice cut through the room, the maid's complexion drained of color. "I've already disposed of the report, sir," she stammered, her words barely escaping her lips. His expression hardened, a deep frown morphing his already stern features. "What did you say?!" Fear gripped her, and tears welled in her eyes as she fumbled to explain herself, "I’m so sorry, sir. It wasn’t intentional, but the report was damaged beyond use. I tossed it without thinking—" But this maid was no stranger to the ritual of discarding items that her employer deemed unworthy. Alaric had a habit of shredding sensitive documents, almost as if the act were a safeguard against the shadows of his world. The Maid had become accustomed to his methods, and her job was vital for her survival. Though she had thought the matter trivial, she was now haunted by what she had unwittingly discarded. The past two days had slipped by as she delivered medicine to Victoria, believing she was simply aiding in her recovery. Yet, unbeknownst to her, those pills were meant for something far more serious—a fever. As Alaric processed her panic-laden explanation, his thoughts spiraled toward a more urgent concern: something was off with Victoria. A single, stinging realization pierced his mind—it was odd that she had given her umbrella to someone else. Surely she could have found shelter or called for the driver in the pouring rain. What had compelled her to brave the downpour unprotected? At that instant, Hector approached, concern etched across his brow. "Sir, is Mrs. Cadogan alright?" Without a word, Alaric thrust the car keys and his jacket at him. "I’m going upstairs for a while." Hector accepted the items, a silent understanding passing between them. Meanwhile, Victoria had planned to retreat into the stillness of her room, seeking solace after the maid's departure. Yet, her sanctuary was shattered by an incoming call. It was the secretary from the Labauve Group, reaching out to discuss the project she had been juggling prior to her unexpected absence the day before. The urgency in their conversation reinforced how quickly chaos could fill the void she left unguarded. Rubbing her temples in exasperation after ending the call, she lamented her overwhelmed schedule. The office had surged in activity while she was out, and now, a mountain of overdue tasks loomed before her. With a resigned sigh, she pulled her laptop from the drawer, ready to tackle her work. Just as she settled into the rhythm of her emails, a sudden rustling near the door caught her attention. Assuming it was merely the maid returning, she swept her gaze across the screen, focusing on the influx of unread messages. But then, the footsteps paused—hovering with a charged silence. An unexpected chill wafted through the air, brushing her side, and she instinctively turned to face the intruder. Alaric stood there, his obsidian eyes piercing through her momentary sense of calm. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, a mix of surprise and confusion lacing her tone. His lips curled into a thin line as he replied, "This is my room." The distance in his voice felt heavy, as if a dark storm brewed behind his stoic exterior. Victoria felt a jolt at his uninviting demeanor. "Did someone upset you? Why do you sound so moody?" she asked, her curiosity piqued despite his brusqueness. "Upset?" Alaric's brows knitted together, irritation evident. "What in the world do you mean? Why would I be upset?" He paused, seemingly lost in thought, then coldly snapped, "I was home last night." The truth of his words struck her like a bolt of lightning, and she stared at him, stunned. "Why are you surprised? I lay right beside you all night. Didn’t you notice?” he added, his voice dripping with skepticism. An unexpected tide of realization washed over her. The pressure on the mattress, the warmth of his presence—that sensation had not been a figment of her imagination after all. Still reeling from a muddled sleep, she had awoken to the cool emptiness on the other side of the bed, convinced he had yet to return home. A wave of excitement seized her breath. "I thought you wouldn’t come home," she admitted quietly. The air thickened between them, and a profound silence enveloped the room. Despite the brief time Claudia had spent back, their dynamic had shifted into an awkward rhythm, one neither dared to address. Each were rehearsed in evasion, as if the reality weighed too heavily on both their hearts. Breaking the stillness, Alaric suddenly probed, "Why aren't you taking your medicine?" This question felt out of place as Victoria's focus shifted, her eyes darting back to the laptop screen. Suppressing a sigh, she replied, “I didn’t feel inclined to take it yesterday. I’m much better today, so I thought I could forgo it.” His expression remained unreadable, yet curiosity flickered behind his dark gaze. "Really? Then what about the report?" Victoria’s hands froze mid-motion as his words echoed ominously in her mind. 'The report.' She had braced herself for that moment, but it came nonetheless, shattering her fragile composure like glass. For a fleeting second, disbelief swept over her—had he truly seen it? A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each more frantic than the last. Did he know about her pregnancy? Yet, in a split second that felt eternal, she gathered her resolve. Since the day the Selwyns had faced their downfall, she had forged herself anew—no longer the sheltered young lady but a capable and respected secretary, earning nods of acknowledgment from company presidents who once dismissed her as merely Alaric's wife. The experiences of the past two years had sculpted her into a woman of resilience and strength, far removed from the flustered girl of old. The report was shredded, its remnants likely swept away by the rain, lost forever in the downpour. After calculating her next move, her heart steadied, revealing nothing. Alaric leaned in closer, his interest piqued. He scrutinized her, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he took a seat directly across from her. They had known each other since childhood; how could he have missed the intensity of her transformation over these years? When Alaric first approached Victoria about joining the company, he had envisioned helping her step into her own power. Little did he realize that in nurturing her independence, she would blossom into the ideal partner he had always desired, someone who could command a room with unwavering confidence. As he studied her, a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. “Are you really so sure you don't know?” he challenged, his voice dropping lower. “Do you honestly believe it’s possible for me not to know you?” Victoria met his gaze undeterred. “Is that right? Do you think you really know me?” she replied, her heart pounding. In an instant, Alaric bridged the distance between them, his hand reaching around her neck, their foreheads nearly touching. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers as he uttered, “I’ve known you for at least twenty years and shared a bed with you for two. Who else could possibly know you better than I do, Victoria Selwyn?” His words left her momentarily speechless, the weight of them resonating in the space between them. Had they really known each other for that long? In truth, while he thought he understood her, he remained blissfully unaware of the depth of her feelings. She had loved him all along, an unspoken truth brewed in the quiet confines of her heart.