New beginning: Billionaire love story (Claire and Alex)

Claire was sprawled on the couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, when Matthew stormed into her penthouse. His expression was a mix of exasperation and determination, like he was about to deliver the world's most dramatic speech. "You, Claire," he announced, pointing an accusing finger at her, "are not going to work today. You're not working until you've fully recovered. Doctor's orders."

Claire rolled her eyes, already knowing where this was headed. "Matthew, I'm fine. It's just a little poison. Nothing I haven't handled before."

But Matthew wasn't having it. He crossed his arms, standing tall like some sort of stern babysitter. "Oh, really? And what if you collapse at the office? I'll have to haul your unconscious body out of there."

Claire snorted. "You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Matthew echoed, incredulously. "Claire, if I catch you even thinking about going to Metacortex, I'll personally call security to drag you out. And you know I mean it."

Claire raised an eyebrow, but the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her amusement. "Is that a threat, Matthew?"

"Absolutely," he said, dead serious. "Now, you're going to stay right here, rest, and let me take care of everything. I'll handle the company, the meetings, the phone calls-everything. You just focus on getting better."

Claire's gaze drifted to the bowl of porridge on the table in front of her. She'd been poking at it with her spoon for the last ten minutes, but the thought of eating it didn't exactly thrill her. Her mind was still stuck on last night, specifically on Ivanov's defiant glare and his stubborn refusal to talk.

Noticing her lingering stare, Matthew sighed. "You're still thinking about Ivanov, aren't you?"

Claire looked up from the porridge, leaning back onto the couch. "Can you blame me? He was so adamant about not revealing who sent him. It's frustrating."

Matthew, who had been pacing across the room, stopped and leaned against the dining table. "It's probably one of your many enemies," he said with a shrug. "You've racked up quite a few, you know."

Claire frowned, considering his words. "Sure, but which one?"

"I'll investigate," Matthew assured her. "You don't need to worry about it. But for now, you need to take your medicine and get some rest. The doctor gave you strict orders, remember?" Claire waved her hand dismissively. "I'll take it later."

"Now, Claire," Matthew insisted, pulling a small bottle out of his pocket and setting it on the table next to the porridge. "Or I'll feed it to you myself."

Claire narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no real heat in her gaze. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," Matthew replied with a grin. "I never get to boss you around like this. It's a rare treat."

Claire chuckled, but she reached for the medicine anyway. "Fine, fine. You win this round. But don't get too comfortable."

Matthew watched as she swallowed the pills, satisfied that she was at least trying to follow the doctor's orders. "Good. Now, eat that porridge and rest. I'll handle everything at Metacortex."

As Matthew headed for the door, Claire called after him. "You'd better not mess anything up, Matthew. I don't want to come back to a disaster."

Matthew turned back with a wink. "Relax, boss. I've got it covered. Just focus on getting better, okay?"

Claire gave him a small nod, watching as he left the penthouse. She stared at the porridge again, this time with a resigned sigh. It wasn't exactly appetizing, but she knew she needed to eat something.

She took a reluctant bite, grimacing slightly at the bland taste. "Unplanned day off," she muttered to herself. "Not exactly how I imagined it."

Alex sat in his dark living room. He

hadn't slept much since the night before, and it showed up in the weary lines on his face. His mind was a tangled mess of

thoughts-Claire getting poisoned, the image of Adrian's lips on hers, Matthew's refusal to let him take care of Claire, and, worst of all, Claire's cold, distant response to him. It frustrated him beyond words.

He downed the whiskey in his glass in one swift motion and immediately poured himself another. The burn of the alcohol did little to ease the knot of anger and confusion twisting in his chest. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered the sound of the front door opening.

A familiar voice broke the silence. "Alex?" Christian called out, his tone a mix of surprise and concern.

Alex didn't bother to move or acknowledge him. Christian flipped on the light switch, but nothing happened. Frowning, he walked further into the room until he spotted Alex sitting in the dark, the curtains drawn tight and the lights off. Christian raised an eyebrow. "Why are you sitting in the dark like some kind of brooding vampire?"

Still, no response. Christian sighed and moved closer until he was standing directly in front of Alex. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at his best friend, who was now pouring yet another glass of whiskey.

"And why," Christian added, "are you drinking in the middle of the morning?"This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Alex lifted his gaze, his eyes cold and distant, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he brought the glass to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

Christian wasn't having it. With a swift motion, he snatched the glass out of Alex's hand, frowning. "Alright, enough of that. What's going on with you?"

Alex blinked, a bit dazed from the sudden light as Christian moved to the window and yanked the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the room, and Alex groaned, immediately shutting his eyes and grabbing the nearest pillow to shield his face from the brightness. "Seriously?" Christian huffed, planting himself on the coffee table in front of Alex. He leaned forward, his expression serious. "Talk to me, man. What's wrong?"

Alex stayed silent for a moment, then finally mumbled, "Everything."

Christian arched an eyebrow. "Everything? You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that."

"Claire," Alex muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow he was still using as a shield. "It's all about Claire."

Christian tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What about Claire? Is this about what happened at the event last night?"

Alex lowered the pillow slightly, just enough to glare at Christian. "Of course, it is. She was poisoned, Christian! Poisoned! And there was Adrian, playing hero, with his lips all over her while I couldn't do anything!"

Christian's eyes widened. "Adrian kissed Claire? I didn't hear about that part."

"It wasn't like that," Alex snapped. "He was just... helping her. But still! And then Matthew wouldn't even let me take care of her like I wasn't good enough or something."

Christian listened, piecing together

the story. "Okay, so Claire got

poisoned, Adrian helped her,

Matthew wouldn't let you near her and now you're here, drinking. yourself into a stupor because... why? Claire didn't give you the response you wanted?"

Alex huffed and slumped back on the couch, letting the pillow drop to the floor. "She was so cold, Christian. Like she didn't care at all. It's driving me insane."

"Then, you need to talk to Claire. Find out what's going on in her head. You won't get anywhere by sulking in the dark."

"You think talking will actually help?"

Christian shrugged. "Can't hurt to try. And if it doesn't work, at least you'll know where you stand."