Alicia's POV
Alexander tilted his head slightly, his expression dark and unreadable.
Slowly, he raised a hand and touched his left cheek—the one I had just slapped.
A faint red mark was already forming.
"Fine…" he muttered, his voice low, almost hoarse. "I'm leaving."
"I'm leaving."
I stood there, frozen.
I hadn't meant to hit him.
But in that moment—panic, anger, humiliation—it all came crashing down at once.
And my hand had moved before I could stop it.
Alexander took a few unsteady steps back, as if the slap had done more than just sting his face.
Then he turned.
Opened the door.
And walked out.
The assistant, who seemed to had just pieced everything together, stood stiffly in the hallway.
He watched as Alexander walked toward the elevator, his usual imposing presence now… strangely subdued.
For a moment, the assistant hesitated.
Then he glanced back at me, still standing by the door.
