Kapitel 21: Collateral Damage

"It looks like there's been a mix-up," I said quietly, my attention fixed on Alexander. "We need to figure out what really happened."

He didn't respond immediately. The information he had just received were still sinking in, and I could see the confusion in his eyes—an expression I hadn't seen in years. For a moment, he wasn't the unshakable, arrogant man I thought I knew. But then again, there was so much I hadn't known back then.

The man who had attacked him—Henry, as I'd later on learn was his name—stood fuming, fists clenched like he was ready to throw another punch. Beside him, Finn, the man I assumed was middle aged, held him back, though his grip looked strained.

"It's no mix-up," Finn said coldly. "You Ashfords made sure we lost everything, one way or another."

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Alexander was many things—arrogant, frustrating, unbearable even—but a liar wasn't one of them. His surprise seemed real, something he couldn't fake. Yet, the people in front of me were clearly suffering, caught in the fallout of I had yet to understand.

"Explain," Alexander demanded, his voice low, tight with tension. He wanted answers. So did I. The way he spoke now—controlled, deliberate—reminded me of the man I once loved. I forced the thought aside.

Finn's jaw tightened. "You claim we were compensated for our homes, our businesses. No one here saw a penny. All we got were eviction notices and bulldozers. You may have signed off on the funds, but they never reached us."

Alexander's brow furrowed. "That makes no sense. I oversaw everything. The payments were allocated and sent out."

"Maybe in your presence," Henry snapped, "but in ours, someone else took it before we ever saw a cent."

I watched as Alexander's mind worked, the gears turning. He hated this—being out of control, missing a crucial piece. For the first time, doubt shook him.

"We'll get to the bottom of this," he said, quieter now. "If what you're saying is true, someone in the company is responsible. I won't let that slide."

Henry turned to the crowd, his anger flaring. "You really believe his words? He's an Ashford? We trusted them once, and look what it got us!" He gestured toward the group. "We were promised compensation, but we lost everything."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The weight of their anger was clear, years of betrayal etched in their faces. Their pain was real.

I stepped forward, heart pounding. "I understand your pain," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tension humming in the air. "But give Alexander a chance to make this right. To ease your suffering. What else do you have to lose?"

Henry's eyes narrowed, his voice biting. "What does a pampered bitch like you know about suffering? Have you ever had to wonder if your family would survive the night? If they'd have a meal ready for them to eat the next day?"

His words cut deep, but I didn't flinch. Memories surfaced—of hunger, fear, survival. My fists clenched. I met his gaze head-on.

"I know more than you think," I said, my voice shaking with suppressed emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

The room fell silent. Henry's fury faltered as he processed my words. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Before he could recover, Alexander stepped forward, gently pulling me back. His gaze hardened as he addressed the room.

"I'll offer collateral," he said, his voice unwavering. "Until this is sorted, you'll have something to hold on to. I give you my word, I won't leave you with nothing again."

Finn's eyes sharpened, scanning the crowd. Slowly, heads began to nod.

"Fine," Finn said cautiously. "But we'll hold you to it."

Alexander shot me a quick glance, his face unreadable. "You will," he said quietly. "And I'll make sure you don't regret it."

For a moment, the room was still, a fragile peace settling. Alexander had extended an olive branch, offering a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as far gone as I'd thought.

But before we could catch our breath, the door swung open with a crash.

Gunfire erupted.

The world went silent. Bodies fell, crumpling like paper as bullets tore through the room. Blood spattered across the floor. My legs locked. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Everything slowed. The screams, the gunfire—they felt distant, like echoes underwater. Was this real? The bodies collapsing, the blood pooling—this couldn't be real.

A sharp tug pulled me out of my trance. Alexander. His hand gripped my arm, dragging me toward the corner. He moved fast, despite the pain from his injuries, focused solely on getting us out.

We crouched behind a stack of crates, his body shielding mine. His breath came in ragged gasps, and I could see the agony etched on his face. Yet, he never stopped.

Finn and Henry were already there, their eyes wide with terror. But as soon as Henry saw Alexander, his expression shifted.

Without warning, he lunged. His hands gripped Alexander's collar, shaking him. "Is this is your way of handling things?!" he screamed, voice hoarse with fury. "This is what you call fixing things?!"

Alexander didn't fight back. Even wounded, he could've retaliated, but he stayed calm, his hands falling to his sides. "This isn't my doing," he said, voice steady. "If it were, would we be hiding here, with you?"

Henry's grip tightened, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "Bullshit," he spat, though his voice wavered. "You're Ashford. This is your mess."

Finn placed a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Let him go. Now's not the time."

With a snarl, Henry shoved Alexander away. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, instinctively pulling me closer behind him.

"I don't hurt women," Henry said with a scowl. "You don't have to worry about her."

Alexander's response was instant. "She's my wife," he said sharply, eyes hard. "After what you've done, a little caution is warranted."

The word wife hit me like a punch. I knew it was part of his game, but that didn't stop my heart from pounding. Didn't stop the heat that surged through me at his words.

Henry snorted, letting it go. Finn glanced between them, his face tight with resignation. "This is a shitshow," he muttered. "But we're all in it now. We need to find a way out of here."

For a brief moment, the tension eased. We all exhaled, the air still heavy but no longer vibrating with violence. Maybe, just maybe, we could find a way out.

Then, the a figure appeared behind the stack of crates, a figure stepping through with a gun raised.

Time froze.

A gunshot cracked through the air.

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