Love Unspoken

Alexander was akin to a ruthless devil who disowned his kin, yet his willingness to share his plans with her suggested that she held a certain significance in his heart. The invitation to partake in such a pivotal scheme was not extended lightly. After all, they were siblings, a bond that distinguished them from the rest of the world. With these thoughts in mind, Freya found herself gradually relaxing.

"Brother, what if something goes wrong?" she inquired, her voice laced with apprehension.

Alexander responded with a nonchalant shrug, "If things go awry, you still have me, don't you? Do you really think I'd put myself in danger?"

He continued, "Our immediate concern is to clean up the mess Walter has created. If we don't, how are we to justify it to our father?"

He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face, "The ideal solution is to strip him of his power. That would resolve Walter's issue as well, wouldn't it?"

Freya found each word hitting a raw nerve, yet her frown gradually dissolved.

After a moment of contemplation, she finally conceded, "Alright, since you insist, I'll trust you. I know you've got my back. Just tell me what to do, and I'll follow your lead."

Alexander gave her a knowing look, not rushing to respond. He rose from his seat, hands casually tucked into his pockets, "Wait for my instructions. And remember, you can't breathe a word of this to anyone, especially not to Walter." "Understood," she nodded in agreement.

With that, Alexander left the café, leaving Freya alone with her thoughts. She sat there, her emotions in turmoil, feeling as if her own ten percent stake was insignificant.

it in one gulp, in a

television. She was behaving herself today, not venturing out or contacting anyone. Alexander sauntered over and took a

reality and

yet?" he asked

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shook her head

on, let's go grab some dinner." He reached out, ruffling

was

moment before nodding and

jacket and jeans, with a slate blue turtleneck underneath

them to the restaurant where he had previously stood

five hours for a man who felt like the most familiar stranger, devoid of any hint of

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snugly concealed his neck, topped

tailored suits, still portrayed him as cool and aloof-an image that could deceive those unfamiliar