The Villains Must Win-Chapter 65: Alexander Vale 15

It started subtly—small gestures that no one would have noticed if they weren’t paying attention. But this was Alexander Vale, the man who ruled his empire with an iron grip. And when it came to Celeste Hart, his new secretary, he made no effort to hide his claim.

At first, the office whispers were nothing more than speculation. A lingering glance here, a too-casual touch there. But soon, it became glaringly obvious—Alexander Vale was completely, undeniably obsessed with his new secretary.

Alexander had always been a man of control. He signed contracts worth billions with those hands, crushed competitors with a flick of his wrist, and sent shivers down his employees’ spines with a mere tap of his fingers on the desk.

But now? Those same powerful hands were constantly wrapped around Celeste’s.

During meetings, while discussing corporate takeovers and high-stakes negotiations, his fingers would slide over hers beneath the table, idly tracing patterns on her palm.

Celeste would try to keep a straight face, nodding seriously at financial projections while Alexander’s thumb teasingly stroked the inside of her wrist, making her pulse race.

Worse still, if she ever pulled away—even just to take notes—Alexander would shoot her a look, the look. The kind that made interns scurry out of his way and had rival CEOs breaking out in a cold sweat.

But on her? It was different. It wasn’t a glare of warning; it was a silent demand: Come back.

And she always did.

It didn’t take long for the entire office to catch on.

"Did you see the way Mr. Vale smiles at Miss Hart?" whispered Lisa from accounting.

"SMILES?! The man who made Jenkins from PR cry? The same Alexander Vale?" gasped David from HR.

"Yup. I saw it myself. And get this—he held the elevator for her this morning."

"No. Freaking. Way."

Oh, but it got worse.

"Could she be the next Riley Evans?"

"I don’t know . . . this woman seems different from Riley."

A group of office staff huddled near the reception, their voices hushed but filled with intrigue. One of them glanced around cautiously before leaning in.

"That Riley was always so timid. She barely let Mr. Vale touch her. Every time he tried to hold her hand, she’d glare at him like he was the plague."

"Right? She turned him down so many times, I’m surprised he put up with it for that long."

"But this woman—Celeste? She’s bold."

Another staff member nodded. "Brazen and flirty is more like it. She welcomes Mr. Vale’s attention with open arms. She doesn’t even care if people are watching."

"She’s the complete opposite of Riley," one mused, stirring their coffee absentmindedly.

"Exactly! Riley was so demure, while Celeste is just . . . loose. I’m sure that Mr. Vale is just after her body like everyone else."

"I heard she’s a gold digger, too."

A sharp voice cut through their whispered gossip.

"Who’s the gold digger and the precious one?"

The staff collectively froze, their heads snapping up in horror.

Celeste Hart stood before them, her arms crossed, an amused smile playing at her lips.

The receptionist dropped her pen, scrambling to look busy, while the others suddenly found their shoes very interesting.

Celeste stepped closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor, the sound echoing like a warning bell. Her expression remained sweet, but the glint in her eyes sent a chill through the air.

"I don’t mind a little gossip," she said lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But be careful . . ." She leaned in just enough, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.

"Alexander might hear."

The blood drained from their faces.

Everyone in the office knew what happened when Alexander Vale was displeased. People had lost jobs for less. And whoever slighted or insulted

Celeste straightened, flashing them one last dazzling smile before sashaying toward the elevator, her hips swaying with confidence.

As the doors of the elevator slid shut behind her, the staff exhaled in unison.

"Oh, shit," one of them whispered.

"She heard us."

"And she smiled."

"God help us."

From that day forward, no one dared to whisper a word about Celeste Hart within earshot. Those who did found themselves swiftly and mercilessly fired, their termination accompanied by a black mark so severe that no company would dare hire them again.

Alexander made sure of it.

It was a ruthless move—a silent but absolute warning. Anyone who disrespected his woman would face consequences far beyond losing their job. The message was clear: Celeste was untouchable, and those who dared to indulge in gossip about her would suffer the weight of his wrath.

Alexander Vale was known for his piercing, calculating gaze. But when it came to Celeste? It softened.

During board meetings, executives would be in the middle of pitching an idea, and suddenly, Alexander’s golden eyes would drift—straight to his secretary, sitting beside him, biting the end of her pen in concentration.

"Sir?" someone would hesitantly say.

Silence.

Alexander was too busy watching Celeste, as if she were the only thing in the room.

"Sir?" they’d repeat, nervous sweat forming.

Alexander would blink once, glance at them like they were ants in his way, and then nod. "Do whatever you think is best."

The room would fall into stunned silence. The Alexander Vale was delegating? Unheard of.

Meanwhile, Celeste? She would smirk, pretending not to notice the absolute chaos she was causing just by existing.

The Office PDA (Or: How Alexander Literally Does Not Care Anymore)

It escalated quickly.

One time, Celeste was walking down the hallway, arms full of files, when Alexander appeared out of nowhere, took half the load from her, and held her hand as they walked back to his office.

Employees froze.

"D-Did anyone else see that?!" gasped one intern.

"Did he just—?"

"Hold. Her. Hand?"

"Yeah."

"And is she just letting him?!"

"Yup."

". . . Should we be worried?"

"Worried about what? It’s none of our business."

"Let’s just pretend that we’re blind and mind our own business or risk losing our jobs."