Chapter 3 - The Billionaire’s Desperation
The wheels of Alexander Hayes’s private Gulfstream G650 screeched onto the runway of Toronto Pearson International Airport less than four hours after Emily’s commercial flight had landed. Alexander hadn't slept, hadn't shaved, and hadn't changed out of the dark charcoal suit he had worn to his mother’s disastrous dinner party the night before.
His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw covered in rough, dark stubble.
As soon as the mobile stairs docked against the aircraft, Alexander strode down onto the wet tarmac, flanked by Marcus and two private security operatives he had summoned from his Chicago gaming properties.
“Where is she?” Alexander demanded, not waiting for the black SUV’s door to open fully before climbing into the rear seat.
Marcus opened an encrypted tablet. “Her company’s headquarters in Toronto is located in the Financial District on Bay Street. However, public records indicate Vantage Global holds an executive corporate housing lease on a brownstone near High Park. She was logged checking in through their smart-lock system roughly ninety minutes ago.”
“Drive to High Park,” Alexander ordered, his voice raw and gravelly. “Step on it.”
The heavy SUV sliced through the morning rush-hour traffic along the Gardiner Expressway. Alexander stared out at the unfamiliar skyline of Toronto, his mind spinning uncontrollably. His entire life had been defined by absolute control. In the boardrooms of Chicago, a single word from him could break a supplier, approve a fifty-million-dollar casino expansion, or crush a political rival. But as he sat in the back of that armored vehicle, he felt completely powerless.
His phone buzzed repeatedly. It was Olivia.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again. His mother.
He swiped the screen with a trembling thumb and brought the phone to his ear. “Mother, not now.”
“Alexander, where are you?” Eleanor Hayes’s voice was crisp, irritated, and entirely oblivious to the catastrophe unfolding around her son. “The society reporters are already buzzing about Emily’s little dramatic exit last night. Madison said someone saw her at the airport. You need to get her back here immediately. The annual autumn charity gala at the Drake is this Friday, and having an empty seat next to you will start ridiculous rumors about our family stability.”
Alexander closed his eyes, a bitter, acidic fury rising in his chest. “Family stability, Mother? Is that all you care about?”
“Of course it is! Reputation is currency in this town, Alexander. And frankly, Emily’s behavior since Grace’s accident has been entirely uncooperative. Accidents happen. It was a tragedy, yes, but dwelling on it and making scenes in front of Olivia—”
“Shut up,” Alexander whispered.
There was a dead silence on the other end of the line. Eleanor Hayes had never been spoken to like that by anyone, least of all her devoted eldest son.
“Alexander, what did you just say to me?”
“I said shut up,” Alexander roared into the microphone, his voice echoing off the leather interior of the SUV, startling the driver. “Grace didn't die in an accident! She died because I left her alone in the street to hang balloons for another woman! And you... you sat at that dinner table and let Olivia flaunt the necklace I bought for my wife while our daughter’s body was barely cold in the ground!”
“Alexander, you’re hysterical—”
He hung up and hurled the phone against the front partition, shattering the glass screen into a spiderweb of cracks. He buried his face in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking violently as dry, painful sobs wracked his body. For five years, he had prioritized his mother’s pride, his sister’s vanity, and Olivia’s endless demands for validation, convincing himself that Emily was strong enough to bear the loneliness.
He had sacrificed his daughter’s life on the altar of another woman’s ego.
Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled up alongside a tree-lined residential street of red-brick Victorian row houses. Leaves of brilliant crimson and gold covered the sidewalks.
Alexander leaped out of the car before it had fully stopped and charged up the stone steps of the brownstone. He pounded on the heavy wooden door with his bare fist.
“Emily! Emily, open the door!” he yelled, oblivious to the quiet neighbors walking their dogs. “Emily, please! It’s me! Let me talk to you! Just five minutes!”
The door didn't open. Instead, a sleek silver sedan pulled up to the curb behind his SUV. Two men in dark suits stepped out, carrying thick leather briefcases.
“Mr. Alexander Hayes?” one of the men asked in a crisp, formal Canadian accent.
Alexander spun around, his eyes wild. “Who the hell are you?”
“We represent Miller & Vance International, acting on behalf of Mrs. Emily Bennett,” the attorney said calmly, extending a crisp, white envelope with red wax seals. “You have been formally served with an emergency interim protection order granted by the Ontario Superior Court of Justice, cross-filed under reciprocal cross-border enforcement treaties.”
Alexander stared at the envelope as if it were a venomous snake. “What?”
“You are currently in violation of the five-hundred-yard exclusion zone,” the lawyer stated, not blinking. “If you do not vacate this property within two minutes, local law enforcement units already staged two blocks away will place you under arrest for criminal harassment. Mrs. Bennett has made it abundantly clear: she will not see you. She will not speak to you. And if you attempt to force entry, she will seek maximum incarceration under the Criminal Code of Canada.”
Alexander looked up at the second-story bay window of the brownstone. Behind the sheer lace curtains, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a silhouette—a slender woman standing perfectly still, watching him with cold, emotionless detachment.
May you like
“Emily!” Alexander screamed, reaching toward the window as his own security team grabbed his arms, urging him back toward the SUV before police sirens began to wail in the distance. “Emily, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don't leave me alone!”
The lace curtain fell back into place. The window went dark.
