Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 87

Elena: POV

The smile on Alexander's face was warm. Too warm for someone I'd only met once—in a hospital room, after Richard Morrison had tried to assault me.

"Alexander," I said carefully. My voice came out flat.

Mom's hand tightened on my arm. "You know him?"

"We've met," I said. Didn't elaborate.

Alexander's gaze shifted to Mom. Something flickered across his face—recognition, maybe. Or surprise. His smile became gentler, more respectful.

"Mrs. Josephine," he said, extending his hand with a slight bow of his head. "It's been far too long."

*Wait. What?*

Mom's face went pale. She took his hand with both of hers, her posture straightening into something almost formal—respectful, deeply deferential.

"Mr. Alexander," she said quietly, her voice carrying genuine warmth mixed with the careful respect of someone addressing their superior. "I... I didn't expect to see you here, sir. You look well."

"As do you," he replied warmly, holding her hand a moment longer than necessary. "I hope life has been treating you kindly."

I looked between them. "You two know each other?"

Mom's laugh was soft but nervous. "Oh, it was years ago. When I first worked at the estate." She clasped both hands in front of her, the gesture automatic. "You were just a boy then, Mr. Alexander. Look how accomplished you've become."

*A boy? Sir?*

That meant she knew him when he was a kid.

Alexander's expression softened with what looked like genuine fondness. "You were always too kind to me, Mrs. Josephine. I remember how you used to sneak me extra cookies from the kitchen."

A real smile crossed Mom's face for the first time. "You were always so polite. 'Please, Mrs. Josephine' and 'Thank you, Mrs. Josephine.' Such good manners."

His eyes were still on me though. Not in a creepy way—more like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Like he was looking *through* me at someone else.

It made my skin crawl.

"What brings you both to West Palm?" he asked, his tone respectful but curious.

I felt Mom's posture shift slightly.

"I moved here recently," Mom said carefully. "Elena is just visiting me, sir."

"I see." He nodded slowly. Then, with careful politeness, he said, "I'm here on business. Arthur asked me to review some properties he owns in the area. Portfolio assessment."

*Arthur. Of course.*

My chest tightened. I should've known. Even here, a thousand miles from New York, the Sterling family had their goddamn fingers everywhere.

"So you work for the family business?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer was no.

He shook his head respectfully. "Not directly. I have my own firm—private equity, based in London. But Arthur still values my input on certain investments."

*London. That explained the faint British accent I'd noticed at the hospital.*

"Must be nice," I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Being valued."

His expression grew concerned, genuinely sympathetic. "Elena, I heard about what happened. The divorce. The... loss. I'm deeply sorry."

*Of fucking course he knew.*

I felt my walls slam up. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course," he said gently. "I understand completely."

Mom cleared her throat softly. "Elena, sweetheart, maybe we should—" She glanced at Alexander with that same deep respect. "We shouldn't keep you from your important business, Mr. Alexander."

"Actually," Alexander said with genuine warmth, "I was about to grab lunch. There's an excellent Cuban place nearby. Would you both do me the honor of joining me? It would be my pleasure."

*No. Hell no.*

The last thing I wanted was to sit across from another Sterling and make small talk. I'd just escaped that world. I wasn't dragging myself back in, not even for a free meal.

"That's incredibly generous of you, sir," Mom said quickly, her voice carrying the careful gratitude of someone who understood the significance of such an invitation. "We would be deeply honored."

I whipped around to stare at her. *What?*

The moment she saw my expression—the shock, the betrayal—her smile faltered. A flicker of regret crossed her face as she realized what she'd just done.

She glanced nervously between Alexander and me, her hands fidgeting with her purse strap. The confident, respectful woman who'd just accepted his invitation seemed to shrink slightly.

She leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "You don't want to go, do you, sweetheart?"

I nodded.

She whispered back, "Then I shouldn't have said yes so fast. I'm sorry, honey."

Watching my mother apologize so carefully, a wave of helplessness washed over me.

I didn't want her to feel awkward because of me. After all, it was just a meal.

But before I could respond, Alexander's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his expression immediately shifted to concern.

"Excuse me," he said apologetically, stepping a few feet away to answer. "This is urgent."

We watched as he spoke in rapid, clipped sentences. His posture grew tense, professional. When he hung up, his phone immediately rang again.

This time, he answered in what sounded like Portuguese, his voice sharp with authority. Whatever was happening, it was serious.

Mom and I exchanged glances. She looked as confused as I felt.

After he ended the second call, Alexander walked back to us, his expression genuinely apologetic.

"Mrs. Josephine, Elena, I'm terribly sorry," he said, his regret seeming authentic. "There's been an urgent situation with one of my Miami properties. I need to return immediately."

I blinked. "So... no lunch?"

"I'm afraid not today," he said with real disappointment. "Perhaps another time? I truly was looking forward to catching up properly."

*Catching up? We barely know each other.*

He gestured toward the parking area. "Please, allow me to have my security team escort you safely back to your car. It's the least I can do after disappointing you both."

"We're fine," I said quickly. "We don't need an escort."

"Please," he said, his tone politely insistent but genuinely concerned. "The market can get crowded, and I'd feel better knowing you're safe."

Mom touched my arm gently. "Elena, let's just—" She looked at Alexander with a gracious nod. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. Alexander. You're very considerate."

Two security guards appeared as if from nowhere—stone-faced guys in black polos with earpieces. They flanked us respectfully but professionally.

"Fine." I crossed my arms. "Whatever."

The guards led us through the market in silence. People stared. Of course they did. We looked like we were being arrested, or at least like we were somebody important.

When we finally reached Mom's beat-up Honda, one of the guards opened the passenger door for me like I was royalty.

*Ridiculous.*

I slid into the seat, fuming.

Mom got in on the driver's side. Started the engine. We pulled out of the parking lot in silence.

It wasn't until we were on the main road that Alexander's black SUV appeared beside us. He rolled down his window.

"Elena," he called out.

I hesitated. Then rolled down mine.

He gestured politely for Mom to pull over. She did.

He stepped out of his SUV and walked over, leaning down to my window with respectful concern. His eyes caught on my wrist—the bandage peeking out from under my sleeve.

His jaw tightened with worry. "What happened to your hand?"

*Shit.*

I tugged my sleeve down. "Nothing. I just... fell. Clumsy."

He didn't look convinced. His eyes searched mine with genuine concern, and for a second, I thought he was going to call me out on the lie.

But he didn't.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Handed it to me with careful respect.

"If you need anything," he said quietly, "please don't hesitate to call me. Day or night. I mean that sincerely."

I took the card. Stared at the embossed lettering. **Alexander Sterling. Managing Partner, Apex Holdings.**

"Thanks," I said flatly.

He nodded once, then looked past me to Mom. "Mrs. Josephine, it was truly wonderful seeing you again. Please take care of yourself."

"You as well, Mr. Alexander," Mom replied with genuine warmth. "Be safe."

He straightened up and walked back to his car.

We drove in silence for another five minutes.

Finally, Mom spoke.

Her voice was low. Almost reverent.

"Elena," she said, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. "How do you know Mr. Alexander?"

I turned to look at her. "We met at the hospital. After... after I was attacked. He helped me."