Chapter 5

Aliza's POV:

Dax's eyes, usually a cold, calculating grey, were now blazing with an inferno of rage directed solely at me. "What have you done?" His voice was a low snarl, each word a lash across my face. He didn't wait for an answer, didn't even consider it. He simply knew I was guilty.

My stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over me, but it was the searing pain in my heart that truly buckled my knees. My nose burned, a familiar prelude to tears I refused to shed. Not here. Not now. I straightened my shoulders, clamping down on the raw emotion.

"Done?" I echoed, my voice surprisingly steady, though it felt like I was speaking through a sheet of ice. "I was trying to prevent a major accident, Dax. Your 'celebrity ambassador' carelessly knocked over a beaker of concentrated acid. I reached for it. She shrieked, stumbled, and then conveniently 'accused' me." My gaze flicked to Frida, who was still clinging to Dax, her sobs conveniently subsiding into whimpers. The camera crew was still filming, capturing every moment of her manufactured distress.

Dax ignored my explanation. He pulled Frida closer, his protective instincts on full display. "Frida has a delicate constitution, Aliza. She's not accustomed to the hazards of a lab." His voice was low, menacing. "And you, a trained biochemist, should have known better than to put her in harm's way."

"Put her in harm's way?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "She's the one who created the hazard! She's a danger to herself and this entire project!"

"Enough!" Dax thundered, his voice echoing through the stunned lab. Dr. Aris stood by, wringing her hands, clearly terrified to intervene. "I will not tolerate this, Aliza. My company invests heavily in this research. Frida's safety is paramount. You will withdraw from Project Chimera immediately."

My jaw dropped. "Withdraw? Are you serious? This is my career, Dax! My life's work! You can't just-"

"I can," he cut me off, his eyes narrowing to slits. "And I will. Unless you want me to remind you of your family's dwindling finances? Your father's past indiscretion that nearly ruined his career? I assure you, Aliza, I have far more leverage than you can imagine."

The cruel words, laced with cold malice, were a direct hit. He didn't just want me out of the lab; he wanted to destroy me. He weaponized my vulnerabilities, turning them into instruments of control. It was a low blow, utterly devastating. My blood ran cold, fear mixing with a chilling realization. This man, my husband, was capable of such calculated cruelty.

I looked into his eyes, searching for any flicker of the man I thought I knew. But there was nothing. Only a deep, unsettling disgust. He hated me. The truth, stark and undeniable, hit me with brutal force. My heart, already a fragile thing, splintered into a million pieces.

I turned and walked away, the shattered glass crunching under my heels, the acrid smell of acid burning my nostrils. I didn't say another word. There was nothing left to say.

Dax watched me leave, then turned his full attention back to Frida. He scooped her into his arms, carrying her through the lab like a priceless artifact. "Don't worry, my love," he murmured, his voice soft, coaxing. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Frida, sniffling delicately, buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh, Dax," she whimpered, "I was so scared. She looked so... angry. Like she wanted to push me." She peeked up at him, her eyes wide and tear-filled. "It's not fair. I was just trying to help, to make you proud."

He stroked her hair, his gaze unwavering. "I know, Frida. I know. You're brave. You're always trying to help." He carried her out of the lab, past the hushed Dr. Aris and the still-filming camera crew.

Later, in her private hospital room, Frida lay dramatically against a pristine white pillow. Dax sat by her bedside, holding her hand. "Are you comfortable, my love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Frida sniffled, pulling her hand away. "How can I be, Dax? After what she did? After everything you promised me?" Her voice was low, trembling.

Dax' s jaw clenched. "I told you, I'll handle Aliza. She won't bother you again. And as for my promises..." He paused, his gaze distant. "My promises are etched in stone, Frida. Always." He squeezed her hand, his eyes filled with a familiar, misplaced loyalty. "I'll never forget what happened that day. I'll always protect you."

Frida's eyes, downcast for a moment, flickered with a brief, calculating gleam. "I just... I'm so tired of being the villain, Dax. The one who broke up your perfect life. Maybe I should just disappear. Go back to where I belong." She sighed dramatically.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dax said, his voice firm. "You belong here. With me. We'll make sure everyone understands the truth. You don't have to do anything."

Frida smiled, a tiny, almost imperceptible curl of her lips. "Thank you, Dax. You're the only one who truly understands." She laid her head back, a smug satisfaction in her eyes. He's mine, she thought. Always has been.

Meanwhile, I stumbled back to my empty mansion, the silence echoing my inner turmoil. My phone buzzed. It was a text from one of my few remaining colleagues at the lab, a kind research assistant named Beth. Heard what happened. So sorry, Aliza. We know it wasn't your fault. A small, fragile warmth bloomed in my chest. Not everyone was blind.

The warmth was short-lived. An hour later, Dr. Aris called. Her voice was strained, apologetic. "Aliza, I'm so sorry to tell you this, but... West Enterprises has pulled all funding for Project Chimera until you are permanently removed from the team. They' re threatening to pull out entirely if we don' t comply." She paused, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I argued, Aliza, I truly did. But the board... they sided with the investors. You're off the project. For good."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers. For good. It was over. My career, my last shred of self-worth, systematically dismantled by the man who was supposed to be my husband. The cold, hard truth settled deep in my bones. Dax hadn't just sabotaged me; he had extinguished every spark of hope, every dream I had dared to nurture.

A bitter, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat. "For good," I whispered, the words echoing in the vast, empty house. He wanted me broken, dependent, a voiceless shadow in his gilded cage.

My phone rang again. It was Dax. I stared at the caller ID, then slowly answered. "What do you want?" My voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"Aliza," his voice was surprisingly calm, almost persuasive. "I've made arrangements. There's a charity gala tonight. Elegant. High-profile. You need to be there. It's crucial for our image, especially after the latest... incident."

"Incident?" I choked out, a fresh wave of sick fury washing over me. "You mean after you deliberately destroyed my career and humiliated me publicly?"

"Exactly," he said, ignoring my sarcasm. "We need to show a united front. The West family is above such petty squabbles. And besides"-his voice hardened-"it's for the baby, Aliza. Everything we do now is for the baby. For our future."

The irony was not lost on me. He had just ensured I could no longer provide for myself, and now he was dangling the "baby" as a leash. He was doing to me what his mother had done to him, tying me to him with the promise of a future I no longer wanted, a future with him. I was trapped.

"Fine," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'll be there."

I hung up, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. A puppet. That's what I was. A puppet in his grand design, dancing to his tune, while he pulled the strings of my shattered dreams. The gala. Another performance. Another lie.

That evening, I stood beside Dax at the glittering gala, a radiant smile plastered on my face. My hand, once again, rested lightly on my stomach as if to protect a precious secret. He was charming, attentive, a perfect husband. We posed for cameras, his arm possessively around my waist, his smile dazzling.

A reporter, brave enough to approach, asked, "Mr. West, your marriage seems stronger than ever despite recent rumors. What's your secret?"

Dax squeezed my hand, a silent warning. "My wife and I are a team," he declared, his voice smooth and confident. "We face everything together. Our bond is unbreakable."

My smile, though still in place, felt like a rictus of pain. Unbreakable? The word was a cruel mockery. Breaking me was precisely what he was doing. I looked at him, then at the assembled reporters, and a cold, defiant thought took root in my mind. He could break my heart, my career, even my spirit for a time. But he would never break my will. Not entirely.

"Indeed," I said, my voice clear and steady, cutting through Dax's polished statement. I pulled my hand, gently but firmly, from his grasp. "Our bond," I continued, meeting the reporter's gaze directly, "is a testament to... resilience. And the ability to adapt. To change, when necessary." I offered a small, enigmatic smile to the cameras, then turned, walking away from the blinding flashes, leaving Dax standing alone on the red carpet, a flicker of surprise and unread emotion in his eyes.