The rooftop glimmered under the city's gentle night sky, bathed in a soft golden hue from the hanging lights that swayed slightly in the breeze.
It was one of Alexander's favorite places to bring clients — exclusive, quiet, intimate. But tonight wasn't about business.
Hazel sat across from him at the small private table, her wine glass nearly untouched.
She had been quiet for most of the evening, distracted, distant — something Alexander had expertly learned to read. And tonight, he planned to take advantage of it.
"You seem heavy tonight, Hazel," Alexander finally spoke, his voice soft, laced with concern.
Hazel hesitated for a moment, trying to mask the emotions swirling inside her. "It's nothing. Just… work."
He smiled knowingly. "You've told me before you're good at burying things under 'work.'
But it's not always healthy, you know." His eyes met hers with a tenderness that felt disarming.
Hazel exhaled, her shoulders slumping. He had a way of seeing through her defenses — of drawing out the words she tried so hard to keep inside.
"I don't usually talk about this," she began, her voice almost a whisper. "Not even with Peter."
Alexander leaned forward slightly, his tone even gentler now. "You don't have to hide anything from me."
The words settled between them like a comforting embrace. And somehow, in that moment, Hazel allowed herself to let go.
"My parents," she said softly, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"They died when I was a baby. A car accident.
They were driving back from a family trip. A reckless truck driver hit them head-on. They died instantly."
She blinked quickly, forcing back the tears beginning to gather.
Alexander's expression darkened with concern as he reached across the table, his hand resting gently on top of hers.
"I'm so sorry, Hazel. That's… unimaginable."
Hazel shook her head. "The worst part is that I don't remember any of it.
All I've ever had are secondhand stories. No closure. No justice. Just emptiness." She lowered her gaze, as if ashamed to be so open.
Alexander gently squeezed her hand, his voice soft and deliberate.
"You were only a child. But you've carried that pain for so long."
Hazel's throat tightened. "For years, I believed I was cursed.
That I wasn't meant to have a family. When the Brookes adopted me, I finally felt hope. But even now, there's always this… hole inside me."
He nodded slowly, watching her every movement. "It's because there's a part of your story you never got to confront. You never knew who the driver was, did you?"
Hazel shook her head again, her voice barely audible. "No.
The orphanage didn't have much information, and after being adopted, I never wanted to reopen the wound.
But sometimes, I wonder… who was he? What kind of person just ruins lives and walks away? Were there consequences? Was he sorry?"
Her voice wavered, but there was a rawness to her words now — an open wound Alexander had been carefully searching for.
"Do you still want to know?" he asked gently, watching her closely.
Hazel paused, her eyes filling with a bittersweet hope. "I don't know if it would help, but... yes. Maybe I need to know. To find closure. If that's even possible."
Alexander's eyes flickered briefly, a calculated glimmer behind his sympathetic expression. "I might be able to help with that."
Hazel's head snapped up, startled. "You? But how?"
"My company has certain… resources. Investigative connections. Discretion is important in my world. I could try to find out who the driver was — if you truly want to know."
Hazel's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with both hope and fear. "You'd do that? For me?"
"Of course," Alexander said smoothly, his voice a warm balm to her frayed nerves. "If it means giving you peace, Hazel, I'll do everything I can."
A small tear escaped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. "I've never told anyone that before. Not even Peter."
Alexander's lips twitched slightly, hiding his satisfaction. "That's because you've never had someone truly listen before. I'm here, Hazel. You don't have to carry this burden alone anymore."
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe it. That maybe, just maybe, this man sitting across from her could give her what she was too scared to ask Peter for: closure.
"I don't know what to say," Hazel whispered.
"Say nothing," Alexander said softly, reaching for her other hand, holding both now between his. "Just trust me."
They sat in silence for a moment as the distant hum of the city buzzed softly beneath them.
The candlelight between them flickered gently, casting golden shadows on Hazel's face.
Alexander studied her carefully — her vulnerability was his greatest weapon now. The deeper she leaned on him emotionally, the easier it would be to pull her closer.
But as his mind wandered ahead — already envisioning the search he would launch — a sliver of unexpected unease stirred inside him.
Because there was one complication neither of them could see coming.