The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 63. Hope Was A Facade.

Alaric’s heart tightened as he squeezed the wristwatch in his palm.

He heard nothing.

He saw nothing.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and for a moment, he thought it would leap out.

He was back there.

Back in Australia, six years ago.

He had become that small, terrified boy who had left home.

The boy whose dreams were shattered. Whose reputation had been destroyed.

Yet, he hoped. As he held onto his mother’s favorite wristwatch, he hoped everything would be okay.

He hoped the wristwatch symbolized his mother’s love for him.

He hoped it meant she understood.

He hoped it meant he was not alone.

He hoped it meant they would be reunited as a family again.

Alaric opened his eyes, his hand twitching as he held onto the wristwatch.

It was strange how an inanimate object could jog memories, could awaken things he had long buried.

He sighed as he traced the face of the wristwatch. It had cracked.

That crack reminded him of his mother’s pain as she yanked it off her wrist and gave it to him. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

You are not alone. I will always be with you.

Of course, he had been alone. But the wristwatch had given him a false kind of hope. It had pushed him forward. It had given him strength.

"You know I—" he paused as he lifted his head.

Where was Nicolette?

Her seat was empty. Even Alexa wasn’t there.

He groaned. How long had he been lost in thought?

Just as he was about to stand, he saw Alexa approaching.

"Hey," she said, her face bright with a smile.

"Hey," he replied, raising a brow. "Where’s my wife?"

Alexa ignored the question. Her eyes fell on the wristwatch. "Do you like it? How did it make you feel?"

His gaze dropped to the wristwatch, and his heart squeezed again. "I... don’t know," he admitted.

He was feeling a mixture of different things.

He wasn’t that boy anymore, yet the wristwatch represented a moment in his life. A time that had shaped who he was now.

Alexa moved closer, her breasts bouncing slightly as she sat. She leaned in, her breath smelling strongly of alcohol. "I knew it was going to mean a lot when you saw it."

He straightened up, pulling away from her. "Yes. Thank you." Then he paused, a thought crossing his mind. "Wait, how did you find it?"

The smile faded from Alexa’s lips. "I... just saw it."

His expression darkened.

He remembered the wristwatch disappearing one day. It had been in his drawer, then the next minute—gone.

The guilt on Alexa’s face hit him like a slap, and he sprang to his feet. "You are disgusting!" he snapped.

Alexa stood up as well, gesturing widely. "Let me explain, I—"

He shook his head, shoving the wristwatch in his pocket. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"I didn’t steal it! I took it. It reminded me of you and... and I just wanted to hold onto a memory," Alexa said desperately..

"Stay. The. Fuck. Away!" he yelled as he walked away from her.

He couldn’t believe it.

He had known Alexa was unstable, but this? This was another level. He stepped out of the restaurant, his bodyguards flanking him.

He needed to leave this hotel tonight. He couldn’t spend another night near her. It was obvious she was still as unhinged as ever.

She had known how frantic he was when the watch went missing. She had helped him search, and had even accused his maid of taking it.

If he hadn’t been patient, he would have blamed and punished the wrong person.

He wiped the sweat forming along his brow.

Alexa had kept it for years.

What was she thinking?

That he would be grateful? That he would thank her?

"Just sick," he muttered, frustration boiling inside him as he entered the elevator.

He wanted to scream at her audacity. He couldn’t stay here anymore. It already felt unsafe.

As the elevator doors opened to his floor, he saw Tom pacing back and forth.

He paused, his anger replaced by confusion. "Tom?"

Tom walked hurriedly when he saw him, making Alaric’s stomach twist.

What now?

"Good evening, sir," Tom greeted quickly, his tone impatient.

Despite the anxiety in his chest, Alaric asked, "What happened?"

"Uhmm..." Tom’s mouth twitched as he moved closer. "Mr. Richard wants me to inform you that he has been hacked."

Alaric groaned. He didn’t need to ask who was responsible. He already knew.

Ronald fucking Voss.

Possibly the worst father-in-law in existence.

Alaric took out his phone. "Thanks for letting me know. Was the damage severe?"

"Quite..." Tom muttered.

"Son of a..." Alaric trailed off as he dialed Richard’s number. "Thanks, Tom."

Tom nodded and left as Alaric waited for the call to connect.

"Hello," Richard said, his voice tight.

Alaric’s gut clenched. "Hey, how bad is it?"

"Bad," Richard admitted. "But not unfixable. Luckily, it was my private system that got hacked, but they attempted to breach the company’s servers."

"Damn," Alaric muttered, curling his fist. He waved his hand dismissively at the guards, and they nodded and left.

He paced the corridor as a headache began to throb at his temple. "Were they successful?"

Richard sighed, and the knot in Alaric’s stomach grew tighter. "I managed to block the access, but honestly? I think they got some information."

Alaric tapped his forehead, his frustration mounting. He couldn’t believe Ronald.

Sure, he had hacked Ronald’s home system to erase the video, but this?

This was different. This was business.

Ronald had hacked Richard to steal information.

It wasn’t the same thing, and it wasn’t fair.

There were over two hundred artists signed under Allens House—painters, writers, illustrators, poets.

His clients’ information might be out there, and it made him uneasy.

"How much information do you think they got?" he asked, finding his voice again.

"I don’t know," Richard replied with a sigh. "I have no idea what was accessed. We can only hope it was nothing serious."

But hope was a facade. Richard, of all people, should know that.

"I don’t feel comfortable with the uncertainty," Alaric admitted, rubbing his chin.

"Don’t worry, I’m working on it. In the next twenty hours, I should have a concrete update."

That eased some of Alaric’s nerves.

"Alright. Thank you, Richard," he said, genuine gratitude in his tone.

"You’re welcome. I’ll call you back," Richard replied.

"Alright. Thanks," Alaric said, hanging up.

He exhaled deeply, pocketing his phone. This new information sent his emotions in another direction entirely.

He sighed again and headed for his room. He couldn’t wait to tell Nicolette everything, starting with Alexa.

He opened the door, and his body jolted with needs. A hunger was already building in him—a hunger for her touch, her body.

They had been heading toward another level. Something deeper, something intimate, until Alexa came and ruined everything. Thinking about her now only reignited his anger.

"Baby," he called as he entered.

Nicolette stood in front of the mirror, her back to him. She had changed into a red gown, and the sight of her exposed back made him hard instantly.

She looked like a flame he didn’t know how to handle—but needed to touch anyway.

Desire surged in him as he walked closer. She was the only one who could take away his frustration.

But when he touched her bare back, she shrugged him off.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t even know when you left," he said softly, trying again.

This time, Nicolette moved away and turned to face him. She looked stunning in the outfit, but the expression on her face made his stomach drop.

"What?" she snapped, her voice cold.

He sighed. "Sorry I blacked out. This," he said, bringing out the wristwatch, "it was—"

"I don’t care!" she cut in sharply. "I really don’t."

Her words stung, yet he was still desperate to understand what was wrong.

"Is something going on?" he asked. "I’m just trying to explain—"

Her eyes flicked to the wristwatch, and when she lifted them, they were blazing with anger.

"And I said I don’t care," she repeated, harsher than before. She walked into the closet and returned with a small purse tucked under her arm.

His brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"With who? To do what?"

"By myself. You don’t own me—or do you? It was only a contract I signed, not the deed to my soul... right?" Her tone was thick with challenge.

He shook his head, baffled. "What’s happening? Where is this coming from?"

She scoffed as she approached the door. "I would really like to have my own room. Or better yet—you get yours."

He blinked, stunned. This wasn’t part of the agreement.

They had an agreement!

What was happening?

This wasn’t the woman who had melted under his touch. This one was cold. Unshaken. Bold. Scary.

"Nicolette?" he called, but she didn’t respond.

Instead she walked out of the room, leaving him standing there in silence.