One Night Mistake… Now I Carry the Mafia Heir

Chapter 101: 101/The Spark of Blind Jealousy

Chapter 101

Stephanie’s Point of View

I took a deliberate step backward, creating a safe distance between us to de-escalate the waves of anger and jealousy that filled the space. Heavy with exhaustion, I pressed my palm against my forehead, which felt on the verge of exploding from a blinding headache a physical toll from the grueling hours that had completely drained my mental and physical energy. Letting out a soft exhale, I pleaded with whatever gentleness remained in him: "Listen to me, Cedric... please. I am truly too exhausted to engage in any discussion or offer explanations right now. My body and mind just need rest."

He fixed his piercing gaze on my pale, bloodless face, worn thin by the morning’s trials at the company and the endless friction within the palace.

Shaking his head, he let out a deep sigh and dropped his tense shoulders in a silent surrender to my weakness, discarding his weapons in the face of my fatigue. He spoke in a calm tone that absorbed much of his lingering resentment: "Fine, Stephanie... I won’t push you any further tonight."

I took a series of rapid, deep breaths, feeling the tight grip of anxiety loosen slightly from my chest. "Thank you," I murmured with a faint gratitude that barely slipped past my lips. "Thank you for understanding and for your consideration."

Moving with heavy feet, as if dragging iron chains, I bypassed him with slow strides to ascend the marble staircase toward my suite. When I pushed the door open, I found the entire space empty. Alexander was nowhere to be seen, granting me a golden opportunity to catch my breath in solitude. I headed straight for the bathroom, turned on the warm faucet, and shut the door, desperate to rid myself of the terrible, bone-deep exhaustion. Standing beneath the spray of the hot water with my eyes closed, I thought to myself with absolute frustration and apprehension: Damn this wretched luck! If my very first day of work under that tyrant Vinceti was this hellish and complex... what will my second day and the coming weeks look like?

I stepped out of the bathroom after a long while, wrapped in a warm, white cotton robe. I quickly dried my damp hair to avoid catching a cold, then threw myself onto the plush bed in a state of profound fatigue. Completely depleted of energy and unable to process any further problems, I drifted into a deep, heavy sleep without even realizing the passage of time.

I had no idea how long I had been out or how many hours I spent completely unconscious from the sheer exhaustion, until I began to feel the touch of a tender, incredibly warm hand sweeping gently across my pale cheek in soft, circular motions. I opened my heavy, crusty eyes with great difficulty to find Alexander sitting quietly beside me on the edge of the mattress. He was watching my features with a calm gaze, entirely stripped of the morning’s harshness. As our eyes met, he leaned down slightly and said in a low, resonant voice: "Steph... wake up, sweetheart. Dinner is ready downstairs, and everyone is waiting for you."

Propping myself up on my elbows with immense effort, I straightened my back and rubbed my eyes with trembling fingers, trying to banish the heavy remnants of sleep from my mind. "My God," I murmured in a hoarse voice. "I didn’t realize I fell into such a deep sleep, as if I were completely knocked out."

He tilted his head slowly, taking in my exhausted face and the dark circles visible beneath my eyes. He spoke with an emotional undertone that carried a hint of pity: "You must have had a brutal, exhausting day far too harsh for your delicate body to bear."

I let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the plush pillows of the bed, complaining under my breath: "Yes... I am truly exhausted. I never imagined that working would be this difficult."

Suddenly, his jaw tightened and his calm expression shifted into one of absolute sternness. Sitting perfectly upright on the mattress to project his gravity and authority, he said with firm, underlying jealousy: "I will speak with Dominic Vinceti personally tomorrow. I’ll make it clear to him that you are my wife, and that he needs to mind his boundaries when dealing with you instead of overwhelming you with these impossible assignments."

My eyes widened in sheer panic and shock at his reckless idea, which could completely destroy my professional future. I threw myself forward in a rapid motion, grabbing his powerful arm and squeezing it in a flat refusal with pleading eyes: "No, Alex! Please don’t do that at all! Don’t tell him anything about our relationship. I don’t want to receive special treatment, nor do I want the employees to feel like I am backed by your family!"

He knit his brows in frustration, fixing his sharp, questioning gaze deep into my eyes as he asked dryly: "But I cannot simply stand by with my hands tied while I watch him treat you this harshly on your very first day."

A faint smile touched my lips despite the lingering tension, and I averted my gaze toward another corner of the room, teasing him to lighten the charged atmosphere: "Oh, Alex... slow down. Anyone hearing your threats would think he’s hitting me or practicing torture techniques in the company hallways!"

He gestured quickly toward my frail form on the bed, his voice deep and gravelly: "But look at your state right now from the exhaustion. You came back from the company and threw yourself onto the bed, sleeping like a lifeless corpse."

I pulled the edges of the cotton robe tightly around my body to hide my frail frame, defending my position logically: "That’s completely normal because I’ve never held an official job before in my entire life. My body and muscles aren’t accustomed to the discipline, standing for long hours, and chasing deadlines at this insane pace."

He shook his head in frustration, yielding to my stubbornness with a long, hot exhale from the depths of his chest: "Fine, Steph... have it your way for now. But if he crosses the line again, I am stepping in immediately."

I moved gently toward the edge of the bed to prepare to get up, saying: "I’ll start getting dressed so we aren’t late for Grandpa."

He nodded in agreement, rising to his full, towering height to give me my space: "Alright... I’ll wait for you."

I stood up with heavy steps, moving slowly toward the large wardrobe and swinging its doors open. I began scanning the garments and pulling out my attire for the evening with deliberate slowness, unable to move any faster. During that time, Alexander turned toward me quietly, a look of gentle entreaty appearing on his face as he asked in a low, soft tone: "Please, Steph... since you’re already standing at the wardrobe, could you fetch me a classic white shirt from my section?"

Turning back to him, I walked toward his meticulously organized side of the wardrobe: "Yes... of course, I’ll get it."

Opening his wardrobe door, I reached out to grab a hanger and pull a crisp white shirt from the rack. However, with my random movement as I pulled the shirt, I accidentally caused something tucked carefully between the layers of clothing to slip out, landing swiftly onto the hardwood floor. Driven by natural curiosity, I bent down, picked up the fallen item, and turned it over in my hands to see what it was. It was an old photograph of a strikingly beautiful blonde woman with distinct foreign features and clear, sky-blue eyes. The photograph appeared to belong to a bygone era, its edges faded and worn by the passing of time.

I gazed at the enchanting features of the lady in absolute awe, a sharp curiosity gnawing at my mind. Turning to him abruptly, I questioned: "Who is this fascinating woman whose picture you keep so secretly, Alex?"

His body stiffened visibly for a few seconds as if struck by lightning. In the blink of an eye, his features transformed into total stillness the same cold facade he always wore for his business. Looking at me with sharp eyes, he asked in a very low voice that carried an underlying threat: "Where... where exactly did you find that?"

I lifted the picture innocently before him so he could see, saying simply: "It fell from the middle of your clothes when I was pulling out the white shirt."

He strode toward me with wide, rapid steps, closing the distance between us in an instant. Extending his hand with immense caution and apprehension, he gently took the photograph from between my fingers as if terrified it might be damaged. He then returned it to its secret, secure spot among his garments with meticulous care. Turning back to me, his rigid expression softened slightly as he murmured in a raspy undertone: "She is my mother."

My smile widened in genuine admiration at the striking resemblance between them, and I said spontaneously: "My God... she is absolutely beautiful, and her features radiate such gentleness."

He finally relaxed his harsh facial lines, a trace of sorrow and longing appearing in his eyes as he whispered: "Yes... she truly was. She was the most beautiful woman."

I paused for a few seconds to process the moment, then asked with extreme caution, careful not to wound his feelings or unearth old, painful scars: "Did... did she pass away a long time ago?"