Alex stared at Kane, the silence in the penthouse thick with unspoken power and the weight of a monumental decision. The devastating information about Snow's father's death, the ultimate weapon, lay tantalizingly within reach. He could press the button, watch Snow's world crumble, and finally, irrevocably, claim his twisted victory.
But Kane's unexpected question, delivered with an uncharacteristic earnestness, had snagged something in Alex's calculating mind. "Is destroying her utterly… truly what you want? Or is there a different kind of victory you seek?"
Alex's vision of love was a stark contrast to the quiet, supportive bond he saw forming between Snow and Andreas. For Alex, love was about possession. It was about dominance, about proving his superiority, about shaping the object of his affection to fit his grand design. He wanted to break Snow's fierce independence, to make her recognize that only his power, his ruthlessness, could truly navigate their world. He believed her strength was raw, unrefined, and that he could forge it into something sharper, something that reflected his own cunning. He wanted Snow to need him, to be awed by him, to realize that his dangerous charm was more exciting, more potent, than Andreas's steadfast loyalty. He didn't want to protect her in the gentle way Andreas did; he wanted to control her destiny, to be the puppet master of her extraordinary life.
His jealousy wasn't just about Andreas winning; it was about Snow choosing Andreas. It was a rejection of his very essence, his seductive power. To destroy her completely would be a victory, yes, but a hollow one. A broken Snow could not admire him, could not choose him, could not fulfill the twisted fantasy he had spun.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the images of Snow's genuine laughter at the gala, of her defiant strength in the face of Ravenna, flashing through his mind. He wanted that Snow. Not a shattered victim, but a formidable woman, choosing him. And he realized, with a chilling clarity, that by utterly destroying her, he would be destroying the very thing he desired.
When Alex opened his eyes, the murderous gleam had receded, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve. "No, Kane," he said, his voice quiet, almost thoughtful. "Complete destruction is… inelegant. Messy. It achieves nothing but a barren landscape."
He paused, then continued, "The information about her father… keep it. Store it. It is leverage. And it will remain leverage. But it will not be leaked. Not yet."
Kane's face remained impassive, but a flicker of surprise showed in his eyes.
"Instead," Alex continued, a new plan already forming, intricate and insidious, "I want you to focus on the future. On Jeffrey. And on the internal dynamics at White Cosmetics. Ravenna is weak. Snow is emotional. Jeffrey is naive. There will be cracks. And when those cracks appear, Kane, I will be ready to exploit them. Not to destroy Snow, not outright. But to show her, precisely, that I am the only one who truly understands how this world works. And how to win."
He wanted Snow to see that Andreas's ethics, his measured approach, would ultimately fail her in the face of ruthless competition. He wanted her to realize that only someone like him, with his brutal efficiency and Machiavellian brilliance, could secure her future. This wasn't about love in any conventional sense; it was a complex, dangerous, and long-game courtship, designed to bring Snow into his orbit through a combination of fear, disillusionment, and a twisted admiration for his power.