The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212

Chapter 212

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When the car finally pulled into the gated estate, the guards stationed at the entrance straightened immediately, lowering their heads in recognition. Alejandro didn’t stop to greet anyone; he barely waited for the engine to shut off before stepping out and waiting for Nivera to join him.

A helper opened the door before they reached it. “Sir,” she greeted, but Alejandro brushed past her with a clipped nod.

Marceline sat on the edge of a chaise near the window, wrapped in a silk robe, and a crystal jau of whinery was held delicately between her fingers.

Her left arm was bandaged from elbow to wrist, the stark white gauze a contrast to her elegant attire.

A faint bruise had blossomed along her cheekbone–evidence of the slap she’d received during the auck and a tired expression was plastered on her face.

Another helper stood beside her, murmuring softly, refilling the glass as Marceline spoke in a low, firm tone.

“Mom,” Alejandro said sharply the moment he saw her, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

Marceline blinked, her eyes flicking up–surprise flashing across her face before she smiled, her composure snapping back into place like a reflex. “Alejandro. I didn’t expect-

He was already striding toward her, and before she could finish, he took the glass from her hand and handed it to the startled helper. “You can leave,” he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument

The helper glanced at Marceline, who waved her off reluctantly. “Go on.”

When the door closed behind the woman, Alejandro turned back to his mother, his jaw tight. “You’re drinking?” he demanded. “After being attacked?”

Was she fucking crazy?!

Marceline arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m injured, not dying. A little drink won’t kill me.”

“It could slow your recovery,” he shot back. “You were cut, Mother. Alcohol isn’t medicine.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone clipped. “And how exactly did you find out about this, hm? Because I certainly didn’t tell you. There was a reason for that.”

Alejandro crossed his arms. “It doesn’t matter how I found out. What matters is that you were attacked and didn’t think to inform me.”

Marceline sighed, turning her gaze toward the window. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” he repeated incredulously. “You were slashed with a knife and slapped across the face, and you thought it best to keep it quiet?”

Her eyes flickered, and for the briefest moment, something raw appeared in them–fear, perhaps, or

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Chapter 212

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humiliation. But it vanished quickly, replaced by practiced defiance. “I’ve handled worse, Alejandro.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle anything alone,” he said, his tone lowering, but the firmness in his voice didn’t waver. “Not this.”

The silence that followed was tense and heavy. Marceline shifted slightly in her seat, unwilling to meet his

eyes.

It was then that she finally noticed Nivera standing quietly behind her son. Her expression softened immediately.

“Oh, darling.” Marceline’s voice lost its edge as she motioned for her to come closer. “You’re here too.”

Nivera stepped forward with a small, worried smile. “Of course. We came as soon as we heard.”

Marceline extended her good arm, and Nivera leaned in to embrace her gently, careful of the bandaged one. “You look lovely, even now,” Marceline murmured with a faint smile. “I see why my son refuses to stop staring at you.”

Nivera flushed slightly, laughing softly. “He doesn’t do that.”

“Oh, he does,” Marceline teased, casting a knowing glance at her son. “I’ve seen it. The García men have a weakness for beautiful, stubborn women.”

Alejandro muttered something under his breath–but Marceline ignored him, patting Nivera’s hand affectionately before leaning back against the couch.

“Now, stop trying to deflect.” Alejandro squinted his eyes, knowing exactly what his mother was doing.

“I suppose you’re here for details,” Marceline said at last, the humor fading from her voice.

Alejandro’s expression hardened. “I need to know everything, from the beginning.”

She nodded slowly, setting the empty glass aside. “It happened early this morning. I was on my way to check up on the progress on my new project. It was early, and I didn’t see fit to take my guards. When I stepped out, someone came out of nowhere.”

“When I got out of the car, I felt… uneasy. Like someone was watching me. I brushed it off–I didn’t want to seem paranoid. But as I locked the car, two men came at me. One from the alley, one from the stairs. They didn’t try to rob me. They didn’t even ask for anything. One of them cut me.” She glanced briefly at the bandage on her arm, her tone detached, as if talking about someone else. “And then they left.”

Alejandro’s jaw tightened. “They just… left?”

Marceline nodded. “They slapped me too,” she said matter–of–factly, as if it didn’t matter. “It wasn’t an attempt to kill. It was a warning. Whoever sent them wanted to scare me.”

Alejandro’s jaw was so tight it looked like it might crack. He paced once, then turned sharply back to her. “Did you get a description? Anything?”

“Tall. Broad shoulders. His face was covered.” She exhaled shakily. “But there was something familiar about

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Chapter 212

his voice.”

Alejandro froze mid–step. “Familiar how?”

Marceline shook her head. “I can’t place it. But I know I’ve heard it before.”

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His eyes darkened, that sharp, calculating edge returning. “Now, why would you go out that early without your guards?” he asked.

“Alejandro,” Marceline sighed gently, “it had been so long since anything had happened, I didn’t expect anything to.”

“And how did that turn out for you?” Alejandro retorted, and that earned him a glare from Marceline.

“I’m increasing your security detail. No arguments.”

Marceline exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want an army following me around the city, Alejandro. I’ve lived long enough without bodyguards breathing down my neck.”

“Then you’ll have to get used to it,” he said sharply. “Your safety isn’t negotiable.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not,” he bit out. “With all the chaos happening, you got attacked? That’s not a coincidence. Someone is testing boundaries–our boundaries–and I’m not about to let them think they can.”

Nivera stayed quiet, but she could see where his head was at, and she couldn’t blame him. After everything they’d been through–the threats, the ambushes, the chaos that seemed to follow them–it was only natural for him to react this way.

Marceline glanced toward her, as if hoping for backup. “Surely you think he’s being dramatic, dear?”

“He is,” Nivera answered, and Alejandro turned to glare at her, “but he’s not wrong, ma’am. I understand why he’s worried, and it’s just until things calm down.”

Marceline sighed deeply. “You’re both impossible,” she muttered, but the fight in her voice had waned.

Alejandro smirked faintly. “You raised me. You only have yourself to blame.”

She shot him a withering glare that didn’t quite hide her affection. “I raised you to be strong, not paranoid.”

“And strength,” he replied, “is knowing when to protect what matters.”

For a moment, mother and son simply stared at each other–both stubborn, both fiercely proud. It was Nivera who broke the tension by reaching for Marceline’s hand again. “You should rest,” she said gently. “Please. For him, if not for yourself.”

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