As Alexandra entered the room designated for visiting hours, her eyes darted around the space filled with convicts, but her gaze quickly locked onto the one person she had hoped never to see again. Jackson Morgan.
In a room full of hardened criminals, it was Jackson's cold, dead eyes that bore into her, the malevolence in his stare sending a shiver down her spine. Her entire body went into fight-or-flight mode, and every instinct screamed at her to scream, cry, and run far away from him.
But for a moment, she couldn't move. She was frozen in place, ensnared by the predatory gaze that had once tormented her and turned her life into a living nightmare. In her earpiece, James's voice pulled her back from the brink. "Ally, are you okay?"
His words snapped her out of her daze, and she flinched, realizing that she had been standing there, trapped in the gravitational pull of Jackson's menacing presence. She watched helplessly as Jackson smirked at her, a twisted pleasure in his eyes.
Summoning every ounce of her strength, Alexandra took a shaky step forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she walked toward the table where Jackson sat. Her body was a coiled spring of tension, ready to snap at any moment.
She took a seat opposite him, their eyes locked in a chilling, unspoken exchange. Jackson's voice, laced with venom, shattered the silence, sending another shiver down her spine.
"Hello, Alexandra."
In that moment, the past collided with the present, and Alexandra knew that she was facing the darkest chapter of her life head-on. Jackson Morgan was no longer a haunting memory; he was a living nightmare, sitting across from her, and there was no escaping the chilling reunion that fate had thrust upon her.
Across the sea, Charles Leclerc had frozen in his kitchen, a feeling of dread washing over him as he dropped his coffee mug.
"Hello, Jackson."
Alexandra forced herself to compose and steel her nerves as she greeted Jackson. She couldn't afford to show any weakness in front of him. His smile, chillingly polite, was anything but genuine as he commented, "You're just as beautiful as you were the last time I saw you."
Her heart raced as she realized he was taunting her. The last time he saw her was the night of her ordeal, and his words were a sinister reminder of that horrific encounter. But she refused to let him see her fear.
Alexandra replied with a cold thank you, her voice laced with ice, before making an offhand comment about his appearance.
"You do look a bit worse for wear."
Jackson grinned, revealing his predatory intent. "That's what happens when you go to prison."
The tension in the room was palpable, but Jackson seemed intent on continuing their conversation. He informed her that he had been watching her, even congratulating her on her Formula 1 success. The mention of her career, something she had worked so hard for and cherished, being acknowledged by her tormentor sent a chill down her spine.
"I've been watching you, you know. You're doing very well in F1, aren't you? Did you get bored of Hollywood? You know, I used to be a Mercedes fan, but recently, I think I've started to root for Red Bull."
She couldn't help but ask, "How have you been keeping up to date with my life, considering you're in prison?"
Jackson's grin widened, and he explained with unsettling nonchalance, "I get an hour of internet access a day, supervised, of course. And I read the newspapers once the guards are done with them."
Her blood ran cold at the thought of him having access to information about her. But Jackson wasn't finished. He tsked and continued in a taunting tone, "I've read all about your father and your childhood. You're no stranger to suffering, are you? Poor little Alexandra Jenkins."
Each word he uttered was a twisted dagger, reopening old wounds and dredging up memories she had fought so hard to bury. Jackson was reveling in her discomfort, and she realized that facing him was not just about seeking justice; it was about confronting the demon from her past and finding the strength to keep moving forward, no matter how dark the shadows became.
The room fell into a heavy silence as Alexandra absorbed Jackson's taunting words. In her earpiece, James's soft voice whispered, "Think of Theo, Lex."
Drawing strength from her nephew and the support of her family, she pressed on. "How did you contact the blog, Jackson?"
Jackson shrugged, a twisted grin on his face. "It wasn't me who contacted them, darling. They reached out to me through a letter, asking to visit. I was more than happy to discuss the best night of my life."
Alexandra's revulsion at his words was palpable. "You're vile, Jackson. Twisted."
He chuckled and casually remarked, "Must have been the drugs. My prison counselor taught me to always be honest."
His hand slammed onto the table, and Alexandra flinched involuntarily at the sudden movement. Jackson's laughter echoed ominously in the small room, his eyes turning cold as he suggested, "Maybe you should consider telling the truth more often."
Confused and wary, Alexandra asked, "What do you mean?"
Jackson's grin turned innocent, but his tone remained malevolent. "Oh, nothing, but from what I've read in that blog about you, you're about as false as a stripper's breasts."
The analogy made Alexandra frown in disgust, and Jackson's laughter only intensified. He continued his verbal assault, his words calculated to cut deep. "You're a liar, Alexandra. Both you and James. I suppose you get it from your parents, don't you? It must be hard to know how to tell the truth when you grew up in a lie."
Detective Blackwood's voice continued to echo in Alexandra's earpiece, urging her to stay calm and not to rise to Jackson's taunts. She fought to suppress the overwhelming urge to lash out at him, knowing that giving in to her anger would only play into his hands.
With pursed lips, Alexandra bit back her desire to reach across the table and wrap her hands around Jackson's throat. Instead, she took a deep breath and calmly stated, "You know nothing about my life, Jackson."
His mocking laughter only served to intensify her frustration, and he continued to taunt her relentlessly. "I know the truth about that night, and that's something only a handful of people on Earth can say, isn't that right? Poor, traumatized Alexandra. If only your disgrace of a brother hadn't been an addict. Maybe then you'd be living a different life. Maybe then you'd be happy."
Alexandra's frown deepened as she insisted, "I am happy."
She mentally berated herself for revealing any vulnerability, questioning why she was playing into his hands. Jackson, however, seemed determined to push her buttons and exploit her weaknesses, reveling in her discomfort. His laughter echoed in the sterile room, a constant reminder of the darkness that had defined her past.
Jackson laughed. "Oh, yes, I forgot about Leclerc. The boyfriend. Tell me, does he know how damaged you are? When he touches you, does he know that you think about me?"
Alexandra felt a torrent of anger rush through her veins, a volatile mix of trauma and fear that threatened to consume her. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she slammed her hand onto the table and warned Jackson to stop talking, her voice trembling with rage.
But Jackson, the master of psychological torment, remained undeterred. He continued to taunt her with cruel words, prodding her deepest wounds.
"When he kisses you, do you think of me? Does he buy you flowers? Does he treat you right? Or does he know how ruined you are? How you belong to me?"
Her anger reached its boiling point, and she could take no more. With a surge of adrenaline, she lunged across the table, her fist connecting with Jackson's face in a satisfying punch.
Instantly, chaos erupted in the room. A guard, responding swiftly to the outburst, restrained her with brutal force, slamming her against the table. Jackson, a twisted grin on his face, was pulled away, but not before delivering one final taunt. "Lovely to see you again, Alexandra. Let's do this again sometime."
As Alexandra was forcibly pulled out of the room and into the cold, unforgiving hallway, the officer let her go. She crumpled to the floor, her body trembling with a mix of fury and despair. Tears streamed down her face, and the weight of the encounter left her emotionally drained.
The door to the office swung open, and James, who had been anxiously waiting outside, rushed toward her. He engulfed her in a tight, protective hug as she sobbed, offering the solace and comfort that she desperately needed in that moment.
James held his sister tightly in his arms, his concern etched across his face as he scanned her pale, ghostly complexion. He could see the trauma in her eyes, the emotional toll this encounter had taken on her. Behind him, Detective Blackwood and Thomas appeared, their expressions mirroring the deep unease that hung in the air.
Deep down, Alexandra was painfully aware that she had made a grave mistake. Her anger had gotten the best of her, and she had blown her chance at getting Jackson to admit his obsession with her, his sinister plans to hurt her once more. She knew that by resorting to violence, she had played right into his hands.
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered to James, "I've fucked up, James."
Her brother held her even tighter, his own distress hidden beneath a façade of strength. He had just realized the imminent danger that their family would face if Jackson was released from prison. They had squandered their opportunity, and the hope of keeping Jackson Morgan incarcerated was slipping away.
After a while, once Alexandra had somewhat calmed down, Thomas and Detective Blackwood approached her, their concern evident in their eyes. They asked her if she was okay, but she remained silent, her spirit broken.
Detective Blackwood tried to offer a glimmer of hope, though they all knew it was a slim chance at best. "This wasn't our only chance," he assured Alexandra. "It's still possible that Jackson's appeal will be denied."
But deep down, the weight of the situation hung heavy on all of them. The specter of Jackson Morgan, the embodiment of Alexandra's darkest nightmares, loomed larger than ever, and they could only hope that justice would prevail in the end.
The next few hours passed in a blur for Alexandra. She withdrew into herself, becoming a mere shell of the vibrant person she once was. Silent and lost in her thoughts, she barely comprehended her surroundings or the conversations happening around her.
When they arrived at the airport, Alexandra's dazed mind slowly registered her surroundings. She was startled to realize they were about to board a plane. Beside her, James was on the phone, his voice low and concerned, glancing at his sister every few minutes. She could tell he was discussing her situation.
Through the muffled voice on the other end of the line, she briefly heard Charles's name, and it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. The realization struck her like a tidal wave—Jackson might try to hurt Charles, to get to her. It seemed like the most sinister plan Jackson could concoct—to reclaim the debt through Charles, to make Alexandra suffer in the only way he knew how: causing pain.
In her spiraling thoughts, Alexandra felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Charles wasn't safe. Theo wasn't safe. Eleanor wasn't safe. Nobody was safe from the malevolent shadow of Jackson Morgan, the specter of their past.
As the private jet took off, Alexandra was consumed by her fears and concerns for her loved ones. The idea of her own safety was a distant thought, overshadowed by the haunting reality that she had unwittingly dragged those she cared about into her living nightmare.
James remained on the phone with Charles as the private jet soared through the skies. The moment he noticed his sister's withdrawal into her own trauma, he knew she would be lost in her thoughts for the foreseeable future. He had wasted no time in calling Charles to relay the harrowing events of their visit to Jackson in prison.
As James explained the situation to Charles, he could faintly hear the sound of something being thrown, followed by the angry shouts of his boyfriend on the other end of the line. The shock was palpable in Charles's voice, and it was clear that Jackson Morgan had somehow outsmarted them, blindsiding them all.
James quickly informed Charles that Alexandra wouldn't talk to anyone, describing her as a ghost, hollowed out by the recent encounter. Charles, understanding the gravity of the situation, assured James that Eleanor and Theo were safe. He pledged to inform the rest of the family about what had transpired and promised to meet James and Alexandra at the airport when they landed in Monaco.
Concerned for James's well-being, Charles asked if he was okay. James admitted he was holding up, but his fear for their family's safety weighed heavily on him. He expressed his deep worry that if Jackson were released from prison, he would come after them, trying to inflict harm.
Charles offered reassurance, emphasizing that they would do everything in their power to ensure their family's safety. James thanked him, his voice filled with gratitude and a profound sense of relief that Charles was by his side, even from afar. They said their goodbyes and ended the call.
James glanced over at his sister, who remained seated beside him, staring blankly at the wall of the plane. The silence within the cabin mirrored the heaviness that had settled in their hearts, a poignant reminder that the shadows of the past continued to cast a long and chilling presence over their lives.
James leaned closer to his sister, the somber atmosphere in the private jet pressing down on them. He asked Alexandra, "Are you okay?" searching her eyes for any sign of recognition, for a flicker of the sister he once knew. But her gaze remained blank, devoid of emotion, and she offered no verbal response.
In the silence that hung heavy between them, James couldn't help but think of Alexandra as a broken doll, a fragile figure that had endured far too much. He pondered the countless scratches, the multitude of chips in her armor, and how they had led them to this moment. It seemed that today's events had acted as the catalyst, shattering her into a million tiny shards. As he looked at her, he couldn't help but wonder if she could ever be put back together.
With a soft, trembling voice, James attempted to reassure his sister, assuring her that she would be okay, that she was safe, and that Jackson wouldn't be released. But even as he spoke those words, he could hear the blatant lie in his own voice, the wavering confidence that he couldn't even convince himself of.
As expected, Alexandra didn't respond to his attempts at comfort. She simply turned her gaze back to the wall, the broken pieces of her spirit scattered in the wake of their encounter with Jackson. It was painfully clear to James that the sister he had known as Alexandra Heroux was irrevocably gone, lost in the shadow of her past.
"We'll get through this, Ally, I promise you. I fucked up before, I put you in danger. But I promise you, it won't happen again. Do you hear me? Jackson won't hurt you again. I won't let him."
Coldly, Alexandra stared at her brother once more.
"Nobody can save me." She murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"He was right. I'm broken."
"Ally, what are you talking about?"
"He's all I see when I close my eyes. Every time I sleep, he's there. Waiting for me. I can't escape him James. I'm never going to be able to escape him. Even if he doesn't get released, it doesn't matter. Jackson Morgan has gotten under my skin, and I won't ever be able to get him off,"
"Al-,"
"He was right."
The plane fell silent.