The penthouse was quiet when Malissa returned.
For a few moments, she simply stood near the entrance, taking in the silence.
The day felt unusually long. The hospital. The doctors.
The fear that had gripped her chest when she received the call.
And Alexander.
Especially Alexander.
She still could not quite understand why he had gone with her.
The memory lingered as she slipped off her shoes and headed upstairs.
A warm shower helped wash away some of the exhaustion clinging to her body, but not all of it. By the time she changed into comfortable clothes and tied her damp hair loosely behind her head, the heaviness in her chest remained.
Her mother was stable.
The doctors were optimistic.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt tired.
Tired in a way sleep could not fix.
After several minutes, she left her room and headed downstairs.
The penthouse remained quiet.
She assumed Alexander was still at work.
He had left the hospital hours earlier after receiving a call.
She hadn't expected to see him again tonight.
Which was why she stopped walking the moment she entered the living room.
Alexander was standing near the hallway.
His tie was gone.
The sleeves to his shirt were rolled to his forearms.
A phone rested in one hand.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
He looked up first.
His gaze settled briefly on her before returning to its usual calm expression.
"You're back."
Malissa nodded.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
Not uncomfortable. Just unexpected.
She had spent most of the day worrying about her mother. Now that the crisis had passed, she suddenly found herself remembering something she had not properly acknowledged.
"Thank you."
Alexander's gaze lifted again.
"For today."
The words came out softer than she intended.
"For coming with me."
His expression remained unchanged.
"It was necessary."
Of course.
She should have expected that answer.
Not because he was trying to be rude.
Because he was Alexander.
Everything had a reason.
Everything had a purpose.
Even kindness.
Still, she found herself smiling faintly.
"Right."
Alexander glanced at his phone.
"I have work to finish."
She nodded.
"I understand."
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the staircase.
A few moments later she heard his footsteps disappear upstairs.
Probably heading for a shower before returning to his study.
The penthouse fell silent again.
Malissa released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Then she moved toward the sofa.
The television remote rested on the coffee table.
She picked it up and switched on the television.
The screen immediately filled with bright lights and cheerful voices.
Some daytime talk show.
She wasn't really paying attention.
The noise simply made the penthouse feel less empty.
She leaned back against the couch.
For the first time all day, there was nothing demanding her attention.
No doctors.
No reporters.
No lawyers.
No family crisis.
Just silence.
Her eyes drifted toward the large glass windows overlooking Pacifica Heights.
The city stretched endlessly beyond them.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Untouchable.
A city that felt nothing like the life she had known before meeting Alexander.
Her phone rang.
The sound immediately pulled her from her thoughts.
She glanced at the screen.
Lawyer Cole.
Her chest tightened slightly.
She answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, Malissa."
The lawyer's voice sounded tired.
Which was never a good sign.
"Good evening."
A brief pause followed.
She already knew.
Somehow she already knew.
The feeling settled heavily in her stomach before he even spoke.
"The appeal hearing has been delayed again."
Malissa closed her eyes.
For a moment she said nothing.
Not because she was surprised.
Because she was exhausted.
Another delay.
Another waiting period.
Another obstacle.
The lawyer continued speaking.
"There have been some procedural issues that need to be resolved before the court proceeds."
She laughed quietly.
A hollow sound.
"Of course there are."
The lawyer sighed.
"I know this is difficult."
Difficult.
The word felt almost insulting.
Her father had spent years in prison.
Her mother had nearly worked herself into an early grave trying to survive.
She had sold everything she owned.
Begged for help.
Worked multiple jobs.
Spent years fighting.
And every time they moved one step forward, something pushed them two steps back.
She stood slowly from the couch.
The television continued playing behind her as she walked toward the window.
Below, traffic moved through the city like streams of light.
Life continued.
As if none of this mattered.
"How much longer?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know."
The answer hurt more than she expected.
Because it was honest.
Because it was true.
"I see."
Another silence.
Then she asked the question that had been sitting heavily in her chest ever since the media attention started.
"Can I see him?"
The lawyer hesitated.
"My father."
Her voice grew softer.
"Can I visit him?"
The silence on the other end stretched.
Too long.
She already knew the answer.
Still, she waited.
"It isn't advisable."
Malissa lowered her head.
Of course.
"The media attention surrounding you has increased significantly."
She laughed again.
This time there was no humor in it.
"Right."
"If reporters connect you to the prison visits, it could create complications."
Complications.
Everything was always complications.
"I know."
The lawyer remained quiet.
Then Malissa asked the question she had been avoiding for weeks.
"Is there another way?"
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
"Anything discreet?"
A pause.
"Maybe."
Hope flickered briefly inside her chest.
The lawyer continued.
"But nothing has been approved."
The hope disappeared almost immediately.
"We can explore some options."
Options.
Possibilities.
Maybe.
Eventually.
Later.
She was tired of all those words.
They never changed anything.
"I understand."
The lawyer's voice softened.
"Malissa."
She swallowed.
"Yes?"
"Don't give up."
The words almost broke her.
Not because they were profound.
Because she was trying so hard not to.
"I won't."
The lie left her mouth automatically.
Another pause.
"Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
The call ended.
The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.
Malissa stared at the dark screen in her hand.
Then lowered it slowly.
The city lights blurred.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The blur remained.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She quickly wiped it away.
Another followed.
Then another.
Years.
Years of fighting.
Years of hoping.
Years of believing that eventually something would change.
Yet somehow her father remained trapped behind bars.
And now she couldn't even visit him.
Not because she didn't want to.
Because she couldn't.
Because the world suddenly cared who she was.
Because cameras followed her.
Because strangers discussed her life online.
Because becoming Alexander Marquez's girlfriend had turned her into public property.
A soft sound escaped her.
Not a sob.
Not even a cry.
Just the sound someone makes when they are trying very hard not to break.
She pressed her free hand against her mouth.
Trying to steady herself.
Trying to breathe.
Trying to regain control.
A few feet away, Alexander stood near the entrance of his study.
One hand rested lightly on the door handle.
He hadn't intended to listen.
He had only been walking back to work.
Then he heard her voice.
He heard enough.
The lawyer.
The appeal.
Her father.
The request to visit him.
The refusal.
His gaze shifted toward her.
She stood with her back partially turned to him, shoulders tense, phone still in her hand.
Small.
Defeated.
Alone.
A moment later, she lifted a hand to her face.
Quickly.
As if hiding the tears before anyone could see them.
Alexander looked away.
His expression remained unchanged.
Then he opened the study door and stepped inside.
The door closed quietly behind him.
The room fell silent.
He walked toward his desk.
Picked up his phone.
And made a call.
The line connected almost immediately.
"Mike."
"Yes, sir."
Alexander glanced toward the closed study door.
His voice remained calm.
Controlled.
"Make arrangements for Malissa to communicate with her father in prison."
A brief pause followed.
"Regular phone calls."
Mike did not ask questions.
"Understood, sir."