Chapter Nineteen: He Has Won
Racheal’s pov
The invitation arrived by courier—a thick, cream-colored card that felt like a summons to an execution. Alexander didn't just ask us to dinner; he had booked the entire rooftop terrace of the most exclusive restaurant in the city, ensuring there would be no witnesses to the storm he was about to unleash. I spent two hours in front of the mirror, my hands shaking so badly I could barely zip up my dress. Charlie stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his face pale, his usual easy-going smile completely vanished. He knew as well as I did that we were walking into a trap, but if we didn't go, Alexander would likely have the police at our door by midnight.
"We stick to the story, Rach," Charlie whispered, taking my hands in his. "He’s just trying to
