I'm Alexander Philips

Chaper 2: I'm Alexander Philips

The hallway felt colder on the way out.

Jasmine walked with measured steps, not trusting her knees to move too fast, she might fall on her face. The silence in the mansion pressed against her ears, heavier than before. She didn’t look back at the office door. She wouldn’t give him that.

She shouldn’t have come.

The thought cut through her like a blade, clean and merciless.

Her mother had warned her years ago—He made his choice. Don’t ever expect him to unmake it. Jasmine hadn’t believed he could be this cruel toward them, not when his blood was in her veins. But now she knew better.

He hadn’t changed

He never cared.

Not about her. Not about her mother. Not about anything that didn’t serve him.

She regretted looking for him. Regretted walking into his world and thinking the word “father” meant something.

But at least now—at least now—her mother would live.

That was the only thing keeping her legs moving.

She was almost at the front hall when the sound of heels approached behind her.

Jasmine didn’t stop walking, but Liana fell into step beside her anyway, the hem of her velvet robe whispering over the floor.

“So,” Liana said lightly, eyes forward, lips curved in satisfaction, “you’re taking my place.”

Jasmine didn’t answer, she didn't see the need to.

Liana didn’t need her to.

“You’ll meet the Phillips family tomorrow,” she continued, her voice show the her relief and selfish amusement. “Mother’s making sure everything is arranged.”

That smirk was small but poisonous—like she’d dodged a bullet and handed Jasmine the gun instead.

Jasmine forced a quiet breath. “Thanks for the information.”

Liana bent her head, studying her like something on display. “Good luck,” she said, though her tone as sarcastic as ever . “Im sure Alexander is probably old and ugly. That’s why they’re so desperate to marry him off. No one else would want him.”

The smile she gave after was sweet and cruel at the same time.

Jasmine didn’t rise to it.

She didn’t glare.

She didn’t pause.

She just walked.

Because she already knew one thing for sure—whatever tomorrow held, it wouldn’t be kindness.

And she was done expecting it.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and worry. she had always hated visiting the hospital, something about it made her feel sick, even if she wasn't before.

Jasmine rushed through the automatic doors, her pulse racing faster with every step. She went straight to the nurses’ station.

“I’m here to see Maria Hayes,” she said, voice tight. “Room 304.”

The nurse checked the chart, then looked up. “She’s not in her room anymore, Miss Hayes.”

Jasmine’s heart dropped with panic. “What do you mean? Where is she? I was told—”

A doctor approached before she could finish and recognized her immediately.

“Miss Jasmine,” he said gently, “your mother has already been taken into surgery.”

“What? Already? I— I thought I’d have time to see her before—”

“The money for the surgery was sent to the hospital a few minutes ago, by ur father,” he said. “The transfer was confirmed immediately, so we moved quickly. Her condition required urgency, weren't u aware.” he stare at her in awe for a moment.

Funds.

Already transferred. He hadn’t waited an hour, at least he kept his promise.

she nodded, " I knew" quietly, not wanting to say more .

Jasmine’s mind scrambled, piecing together what she already feared. Her mother had been diagnosed with a brain tumor—malignant, aggressive, and dangerously close to critical areas that controlled motor functions and speech. The doctors had warned that if they didn’t operate quickly, the tumor could trigger irreversible paralysis—or worse.

Can she… live through this?

“Can I see her before they start? Just for a minute—please—”

The doctor shook his head. Not unkind, but firm. “She’s under anesthesia. The procedure has begun. You won’t be able to see her until she’s in recovery.”

Jasmine swallowed hard, fingers curling around the strap of her bag. Her chest felt like it had been taken out of her chest, leaving only a sharp, pain.

“How long… how long will it take?”

“A few hours,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do here right now. You should go home, try to rest. We’ll call you when she’s out of surgery.”

She didn’t want to leave—but standing in the hallway, helpless, was worse, the only thing she could do now was hope and pray.

“Alright,” she said quietly.

The doctor gave her a reassuring nod before heading off, as if to tell her that everything would be fine.

Jasmine turned and walked back through the lobby, her chest tight with everything she hadn’t said to her mother. Relief and dread twisted together in her stomach. It was happening. The surgery. The chance. The reason she’d sold her future, the reason she’d put herself through days of torment, compromise, and negotiation, she wondered what her mum would say when she finds out how she managed to pay for the surgery.

She stepped outside into the cooling evening air, but it offered no comfort. Her fingers still trembled from the shock and exhaustion.

A black car pulled up at the front of the hospital the moment she exited.

A man in the driver’s seat leaned out the window. “Miss Jasmine Hayes?”

She froze. “Who’s asking?”

“The car is here for you,” he said.

“I didn’t request a ride,” she replied confused.

“You should get in.”

She stepped back a little. “I’m not going anywhere with someone I don’t know.”

Before he could insist again, the back passenger door opened.

A second man stepped out—not rushed, not nervous, instead with some sort of arrogant confidence.

Tall. Well-dressed, dark eyes that made her drizzy, smooth brown hair, and a type of suit she only ever saw in movies.

He didn’t bother smoothing his suit or checking his watch. He just looked at her.

“Jasmine Hayes,” he said like a statement, not a question.

She met his eyes, wary. “Yes.”

He closed the distance by a few steps, stopping just short of too close.

“I’m Alexander Phillips.”

The name landed like cold water.

She had expected old. She had expected someone who needed a wife to fix his image, she had expected anything but not this_not him.

She had not expected… him.

And he didn’t look like a man who’d been desperate for a bride.

Not at all.

Her pulse didn’t just quicken—it raced with uncertainty. The world she had stepped into was no longer just about her mother’s survival, about keeping her life intact. It was about the people in it, the decisions she’d made, and the ones she’d have to make next.

Because right now, standing in front of Alexander Phillips, she realized—this was only the beginning.