The Heir And The Servent Started From A Bet novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Alex blinked, staring at his mother, waiting for her to say something-anything-that would tell him she was joking.

She wasn’t.

His jaw tightened as he turned to his father, who was still eating as if he hadn’t just shattered every ounce of peace Alex had

left.

The tension in the dining room stretched thin, suffocating.

Alex shook his head.

Before now, he wouldn’t have cared. He had already made up his mind to marry Zoe. It was the path laid out for him-the one everyone expected him to take.

It was a convenient, predictable choice.

But things are different now.

Everything was different now.

Because now, his heart was stuck on a girl with tired eyes and bruised hands. A girl who had never wanted anything from him except the one thing he couldn’t give.

Himself.

Mia.

His throat burned.

He didn’t want to marry Zoe anymore.

Not now.

Not ever.

The fact he doesn’t want to marry Zoe anymore doesn’t mean he wants to have anything to do with Mia Turner.

He just wants to fucking be!

“Clearly, he doesn’t want him to get married,” Alex muttered, his voice breaking the silence. He shrugged, but his hands were clenched on his lap. “If my marriage is tied to yours, then he doesn’t actually want Julian to get married at all.”

Alex leaned back, arms crossed, and stared directly at his father.

He wasn’t wrong.

Their father had a way of disguising his cruelty as conditions, of dangling what they wanted in front of them just to watch them squirm.

It was a game.

His father is twisted that way, and Alex hates himself sometimes when he sees traits of his father in him.

Oh well… he was raised by him.

Charles Blackwell finally hummed, a small, amused sound that sent a chill down Alex’s spine.

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“What’s the problem?” his father asked, his voice casual. “I thought you loved Zoe.”

Loved.

Alex almost laughed.

It was funny how a few weeks ago, he might’ve said yes.

Zoe had always been the obvious choice. Their families had been pushing for it for years. She was beautiful, well-connected, and she knew the rules of their world.

He never had to explain himself to Zoe.

Never had to pretend.

They had been good together since forever.

And yet, now, sitting here, staring at his father across the table, the very thought of spending a lifetime with Zoe made his stomach turn.

Because love wasn’t something he could attach to her anymore.

Because love wasn’t what he felt when he thought of Zoe.

Love wasn’t restless nights and aching thoughts.

Love wasn’t a sharp pain in his chest every time he saw someone cry.

Love wasn’t Mia. Definitely not.

Alex exhaled slowly. He couldn’t let his father see through him. Couldn’t let him even get a hint of what was running through his head.

If his father so much as suspected that he had feelings for a Turner-

All hell would break loose.

So he kept his voice even, uninterested. “So? Just because I love her doesn’t mean I’m ready to settle down.”

His father raised a brow. “What’s the delay?”

Alex’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What’s the rush?”

Their gazes clashed, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

The dining table grew tense.

Julian shifted uncomfortably. Their mother lowered her gaze to her plate, not daring to interfere.

The room was silent, tension sat like a weight over their heads.

Charles Blackwell wasn’t a man who took defiance lightly.

Alex has been doing that a lot lately.

No, he has always been like this. His father had always hurt his mother and brother to get him to do what he wanted.

Alex knows the consequences are coming and honestly? He’s waiting for it…

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Chapter 72

+20)

Lily had been talking about the unicorn party all day.

It was all Mia had heard since she got home-how her dress was perfect, how her shoes sparkled, how she would make sure everyone knew she was the best-dressed girl at the event.

Mia barely had the energy to respond.

Her shift at Casa Lounge had drained her, and all she wanted was sleep.

She lay on her small, creaky bed, staring at the ceiling, begging herself to ignore the endless chatter from the living room. Her eyelids were heavy, her body aching from exhaustion, when-

A scream.

Mia’s eyes snapped open..

Shouting followed.

She sat up, confused.

Then-

A gunshot.

Her heart stopped.

The sound echoed through the walls, loud and sharp.

For a moment, she couldn’t move.

Her hands trembled as she pushed herself up, her breath caught in her throat.

Then came the second scream-high-pitched, raw with terror.

Her mother.

Mia’s legs felt numb, but she forced herself to move. Slowly, she slid off her bed, her feet touching the cold floor.

Another gunshot.

She dropped to the ground, hands pressed against her mouth to stop the whimper that threatened to escape.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

Seconds stretched into eternity as silence fell over the house.

Then-crying.

Panicked voices.

Mia clenched her fists, squeezing her eyes shut. Her body shook uncontrollably.

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