Chapter 978: Chapter 978 Magnet
"Where is he?" Alexa muttered, scanning the room once more.
There was no note, no sign, nothing to tell her where he had gone.
The room was silent, the air still carrying only the faintest trace of his scent.
Pushing herself off the bed, Alexa made her way to the washroom, her bare feet brushing softly against the cool floor.
She turned on the water, and steam began to fill the small space.
As she slipped into the bath, she leaned back and let the warm water embrace her body—but even there, her thoughts refused to settle.
Her fingers brushed across her skin, and the faintest tingle lingered where he had touched her.
She closed her eyes, remembering the strength of his arms, the heat of his breath, the depth of his voice whispering her name.
The more she tried not to think about it, the more her mind betrayed her with vivid flashes of that night—the sound of their voices, the rhythm of their bodies, the overwhelming pleasure that had blurred everything else away.
"I can’t believe I did all those things with Ross..." Alexa blurted out, her voice echoing softly against the tiled walls.
Her face turned crimson as the images grew sharper in her mind—his gaze, his lips, the way he had looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
She covered her face with her hands, sinking a little deeper into the water as if to hide from her own thoughts.
But no matter how much she tried, the warmth that spread through her wasn’t from the bath—it was from within, the lingering mark Ross had left on her body, her heart, and her very soul.
Alexa finished washing up and slipped into her favorite light-blue dress, the one she often wore to the office when she wanted to feel both comfortable and confident.
The soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, and for a brief moment, everything seemed peaceful—too peaceful, perhaps, for the turmoil in her heart.
She moved through the quiet house with practiced ease, pouring herself a cup of coffee before checking her phone for messages.
Nothing unusual. No calls. No texts. Just the dull hum of another workday waiting to begin.
She and her husband owned several chains of businesses—restaurants, rental properties, and a few small retail outlets scattered across the city.
It was a life most people envied, one of comfort and stability.
She didn’t have to rush through traffic or fight through the morning commute; she could start her day whenever she wished.
And yet, lately, Alexa found little joy in it.
Still, she took pride in what they had built together.
They might have had help from their families at the start—some capital, a few connections—but maintaining those ventures, expanding them, and making them thrive had been no small feat.
She had poured years of her life into this work, and it had rewarded her with success.
Alexa was done preparing for the day and went to the office at almost 2 o’clock already.
But as she sat at her office desk, surrounded by tidy paperwork and quiet air-conditioning, she realized success meant little when her thoughts refused to stay where they should.
Her pen hovered over a report for several seconds before she sighed and leaned back in her chair.
The same face appeared in her mind again and again, no matter how she tried to push it away.
Ross.
She whispered his name under her breath without meaning to, then quickly shook her head.
"No, stop it," she muttered, as if scolding herself. But it was useless.
His image has been carved into her mind—the warmth of his touch, his voice, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
She rubbed her temples, trying to focus, but hours slipped by without her realizing it.
By the time the sun began to dip low, she had completed only a fraction of her usual workload.
"How am I going to face them again?" she murmured, covering her face with trembling hands.
She knew she would have to see both her husband and Ross that evening.
The very thought made her heart race and her stomach twist in knots.
How could she sit across from them, pretending everything was normal, when she could still feel Ross’s presence lingering on her skin?
The clock struck four, and Alexa stood up abruptly. She couldn’t concentrate anymore.
Gathering her things, she left the office early, telling the staff she needed to "check on something at home."
Driving through the city, her mind wandered again.
The streetlights flickered to life as she reached their gated residence, and for once, instead of heading straight to her study, she went to the kitchen.
Maybe cooking something new would help settle her thoughts.
She tied her hair back and opened the pantry, scanning through ingredients before pulling out a few essentials.
Tomatoes, pasta, herbs. Spaghetti. It was simple, familiar, warm. She smiled faintly.
"Does he like homemade spaghetti?" she wondered aloud.
Then she froze, spoon in hand.
Her reflection in the kitchen window showed her face turning pink, her lips parting slightly in surprise.
"I meant... my husband," she tried to convince herself, but the lie fell flat even to her own ears.
She wasn’t thinking about her husband at all.
It was Ross—the way he smiled, the way his eyes lingered when he looked at her, the way her heart betrayed her every time he was near.
Alexa pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the faint, uneven rhythm of her heartbeat.
She exhaled softly, lowering her gaze.
"What’s wrong with me?" she whispered. But deep down, she already knew.
Alexa shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then drove home and went straight to the kitchen.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, a small spark of excitement pulsed through her veins.
There was a spring in her step, a lightness in her movements that she hadn’t felt in a long time.