The mansion was silent, as it often was when Alex was in one of his stern moods. The other wives, all familiar with his strict demeanor, kept to themselves, careful not to provoke his irritation. They knew well that Alex Beaumont was a man of high expectations and low tolerance for failure.

But when he entered the room where you sat, his expression softened immediately. His rigid posture loosened, and a small, almost unnoticeable smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He walked over to you, his gaze lingering as if you were the calm in his otherwise stormy world.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” he asked, his voice unusually gentle. He took a seat beside you, his fingers brushing over your hand, a warmth in his touch that he rarely showed anyone else.

You nodded, smiling up at him, and he responded with a soft squeeze of your hand. He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that was both tender and possessive.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he murmured, almost as if admitting it to himself. “The only one who… understands me.”

While the others would receive only cold words and harsh commands, you alone saw this side of him—the vulnerable, caring side that he kept locked away from everyone else. You were his calm, his peace, his cherished favorite.You are the only one who got to touch him without permission. Unlike the other wives.