250. “You scared us.”

250. “You scared us.”
There are no words in the world to describe the relief that washed through me when I saw Sebastian’s eyes open. Pale, yes, but alive—sitting up in the hospital bed, greeting us with a tired smile.

Even though Grant had said he would live, the anguish was still buried deep in my bones, the fear pulsing like a second heart. But when he called the following evening to say Sebastian had woken up, we all dropped everything and rushed to the hospital.

The family didn’t understand what had really happened to Sebastian. Aside from him and Elodie, no one else knew about the plan. So we told them it was a robbery. William handled everything. He took one of the Houghton cars and ordered it to be made to disappear, no questions asked.

What I know is, it wasn’t hard for him to convince the Commissioner to keep the truth sealed—and honestly, that’s a little frightening. William acted so calmly, so quickly, that it was resolved before anyone even had time to ask questions.

The warehouse incident hit the papers that very night, and an official statement followed the next day. Evelyn Rose Bennett, age twenty-six, from Skegness—after fleeing the police in an arson case that endangered two hundred residents of her building—was found in an abandoned warehouse in Deptford, where she resisted arrest once again, armed with a knife and a gun. The police had no choice but to stop her.

Lazarus’s name was never mentioned—not in the media, and apparently not even in the police report. Nothing pointed to a second person’s involvement. Nothing about the planned attack on East Houghton Manor, or the fact that she’d hired a hitman.

Evelyn took all the blame alone, and her death was stripped of honor.

Maybe that’s why it all feels like a dream… a memory that never really happened.

But the five of us—we know the truth. We know what it really took, and what price was paid.

Or rather… what Sebastian is paying.

“If you’re here… does that mean the plan worked?” Sebastian breaks the silence, and only then do I realize we’re all standing, just staring at him with a mix of relief and unease.

Christopher, as if also pulled back into reality, steps forward with a basket of fresh fruit, sweets, and flowers in his hands—which makes Sebastian’s expression twist.

“What the hell is this? Did I die and go to hell?”

Funny, I once had the exact same reaction…

“Why is Christopher bringing me a basket?”

“Shut up.” Christopher snaps, setting it down on the bedside table with a grumpy gesture, his cheeks flushing slightly as he turns away. “It’s not from me. It’s from Uncle Benedict and Aunt Dorothy.”

“What?” Sebastian frowns even more. “That’s even creepier, for fuck’s sake. What did you tell them?”

“Robbery,” William answers, drawing Sebastian’s startled eyes. And something tells me it isn’t the excuse that surprises him. The memory of the night before—the eyes that wouldn’t meet, the faces that turned away—flashes in my mind, softening my gaze. “But trust me… shortbread cookies from my father would scare me too.”

Sebastian lets out a laugh, low and hoarse, but genuine. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, his usually styled hair falling in messy strands across his forehead and ear.

“You’re acting like I almost died.” He stops laughing, though the smile lingers. “It was just a bullet. I’m fine—I’ve had worse.”

Except it wasn’t just a bullet. He hasn’t had worse. The shot hit his spinal cord. He might never walk again. He can’t feel his legs.

And still, he’s smiling, acting like it’s nothing.

My heart tightens.

“Even Lô’s here?” Sebastian lifts his chin slightly, nodding toward my cousin, who’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, face stern but eyes heavy with worry. “This is really weird. Are you sure I’m not dead?”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure you are.” she shoots back, sharp but not biting, only mildly annoyed. “And don’t call me that.”

They were never close. At least, not really. She never hid her opinions about the Houghton brothers. In her eyes, Christopher didn’t deserve a fragment of my love, and Sebastian didn’t truly love me either. Not the right way. Elodie believed his love came from a place of inferiority, from a wound that had nothing to do with me but with Christopher. That Sebastian wanted me because he couldn’t have me, because my eyes were always on his brother.

But now, watching Sebastian smile and even laugh with Christopher—with the same teasing as always, but softer, more fraternal—I think she’s right. His eyes shine for his brother, amused, in a way I’ve never seen before. Even hurt, he looks… relieved.

Christopher, maybe realizing more than he lets on, rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but he can’t hide the corner of his mouth twitching upward, almost against his will.

“You should smile more, Chris,” Sebastian rasps, his voice carrying an uncommon sincerity. “Almost makes you look like you have a heart.”

Christopher snorts indignantly, but the redness at his ears gives him away.
“And you should shut up more often, Sebastian. Almost makes you sound smart.”

Sebastian laughs, making his brother roll his eyes and fold his arms tighter, straining to keep up a mask of indifference.

But when Sebastian props himself up on his elbows, trying to lift himself higher on the bed, Christopher instinctively steps forward to help.

“I’ve got it,” he murmurs, stopping him with a flick of his hand. But his jaw clenches with the effort, and after a few tense seconds, he drops back against the pillows with a grunt. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little fucked up.”

“A little?” William raises an eyebrow with his usual irony. “You lost almost two liters of blood. Went through emergency surgery because a bullet hit your spine. You’re on three different antibiotics and enough painkillers to get a horse high. But sure… just a little.”

“Jesus… you even memorized the medical terms, Will. Almost sounds like you care.” His words carry a thin layer of accusation, everyone can hear it, even under all that sarcasm.

But William doesn’t look away, his face steady. “Care? I just don’t want to waste time organizing another memorial—one was enough work.”

“Oh, shame… I was hoping for a portrait of me in the Houghton Hall of Fame. Something dramatic, with candlelight and orchestral music.” He glances around in mock disappointment. “Nothing? Not even a little plaque?”

William raises a brow, crossing his arms slowly, savoring the provocation before answering.

“Actually, I thought about embalming you and putting you in the library as decoration. You’d match the Persian rug you hate. You know, the one you used to puke on just to piss off our grandfather.”

“Puke to piss him off?” Sebastian echoes, eyes widening in fake offense. “I was seven! You’re a monster, William. Cold. Calculated. Heartless.”

Christopher can’t hold back a laugh, even though he tries to cover it with a cough, and I have to bite down a smile.

“A monster, sure.” William only tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, serene as if he were talking about the weather. “But a monster with impeccable taste.”

“Oh, for God’s sake…” Christopher mutters, already bracing for the endless exchange of barbs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You two are terrible at showing affection,” Elodie cuts in for the first time since we walked in, her voice as cold as it is sharp. “It’s like watching two cats fight to prove they like each other.”

“You realize you just admitted I’m too adorable to resist, right?” Sebastian turns his head toward her, eyes still bright with humor but softened with an unexpected hint of tenderness.

“No. I admitted you’re annoying.” Elodie tightens her arms across her chest, but doesn’t look away. And neither does he.

“Then why’d you come?” Sebastian’s voice holds less irony now. No weight, no challenge—just the bare question.

“Morbid curiosity.”

“You’re all a bunch of heartless assholes,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “I just woke up, and you’re already wishing me dead again. At least pretend you missed me.”

“We did.” My voice finally breaks through, softer than I intended. And suddenly, every eye turns to me. “We all did, Sebastian. You scared us.”