chapter 122
Elena's POV:
Seven months along now, I moved with the careful deliberation of someone carrying precious cargo, my free hand instinctively supporting my belly.
The familiar ache in my lower back had returned with a vengeance after sitting too long at Sebastian's bedside, and I paused near the nurses' station to catch my breath.
"Oh, thank God, another one," a voice called out in relief. "I was beginning to think I was the only whale in this entire wing."
I turned to find a woman around my age emerging from a nearby room, her designer hospital gown doing little to disguise her own pronounced bump.
Her auburn hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon, and despite the casual greeting, everything about her screamed old money.
"Luna Cross," she introduced herself, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "And before you ask, yes, that Cross. My husband's family owns half the law firms from here to London."
I shake her hand, feeling oddly self-conscious about my own simple attire. "Elena Ross... Vane," I corrected, still stumbling over the new surname even after months of marriage.
Her eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Vane? As in Sebastian Vane?"
At my nod, she laughed, a surprisingly warm sound. "Well, that explains the private wing. Come on, join me for a bit? I'm going absolutely mad talking to myself in there."
Making a new friend actually sounded wonderful. I found myself following her into a suite that rivaled Sebastian's in luxury.
Luna gestured me toward a plush sofa, settling herself with a dramatic sigh.
"Eight months," she said without preamble, rubbing her belly. "You?"
"Seven," I replied, noting how her sharp eyes cataloged every detail of my appearance.
"First?" When I nodded, she smiled knowingly. "Me too. Though you'd think I was carrying the second coming of Christ the way Michael's family hovers. That's my husband," she added, rolling her eyes.
"Michael Cross. You've probably heard of him—youngest partner in the firm's history, never lost a case, complete and utter workaholic."
The bitterness in her tone caught me off guard. "You don't sound particularly... happy about that."
Luna's laugh was sharp as broken glass.
"Happy? Oh, honey, happiness wasn't part of the merger—I mean, marriage contract. My father owns the largest shipping fleet on the East Coast. Michael's family needed the connections, mine needed the legal protection. Tale as old as time."
She paused, studying me with sudden intensity. "Though I'm guessing your story's different. Sebastian Vane doesn't strike me as the arranged marriage type."
I thought of being dragged to The Aurora, of a year spent as a caged bird before everything shifted into something I still couldn't quite name.
"No," I said carefully. "Not arranged."
Perhaps our beginning had been worse than any arranged marriage—at least those came with contracts and clear expectations, not locked doors and restrictions.
But somehow we'd found our way to something better, something real.
"Lucky you," Luna sighed, then leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Want to know the worst part? The man barely speaks. I'm not exaggerating—in bed, he's completely silent, and outside of it, he communicates in monosyllables. Yes. No. Fine. Perhaps."
She affected a deep voice that made me bite back a smile. "Sometimes I wonder if he took a vow of silence along with our marriage vows."
The image was so absurd I couldn't help myself. "Maybe he saves all his words for the courtroom. Does he argue cases in sign language?"
Luna burst out laughing, genuine mirth replacing the bitter edge. "Oh, I like you. Please tell me you're staying on this floor for a while. I desperately need—"
The door opened without warning, cutting her off mid-sentence.
A man stood in the doorway—tall, immaculately dressed despite the late hour, with the kind of austere handsomeness that belonged on ancient Roman coins.
He looked exactly as Luna had described—cold, silent, imposing. My stomach dropped as I wondered how much of our conversation he'd overheard, especially the more intimate complaints about their bedroom dynamics.
His gray eyes swept the room with prosecutorial efficiency before landing on Luna.
"Michael," Luna's entire demeanor shifted, though not into submission as I'd expected.
Instead, her eyes held a spark of something that looked almost like a challenge. "This is Elena Vane. Elena, my husband."
He nodded once. Those cold gray eyes turned to me, and I fought the urge to fidget under his assessment.
I recognized my cue and made a hasty exit, murmuring promises to visit again.
As I closed the door behind me, I heard the immediate consequence of Luna's defiance and gossip.
A sharp gasp, then her voice, higher now, "Michael, wait—I didn't mean—" but her protests were cut short by sounds that made it clear her husband was already exacting his punishment for her earlier indiscretions.
The soft thud of something—or someone—against the wall, followed by Luna's muffled attempts at resistance that seemed entirely futile against whatever discipline Michael had decided she'd earned.
I quickened my pace down the hallway, cheeks burning, realizing that perhaps arranged marriages weren't always as cold as they appeared.
Whatever Michael Cross lacked in verbal communication, he apparently made up for in other ways.
The walk back to Sebastian's room felt longer than usual.
"You're late," Sebastian observed the moment I entered, his dark eyes tracking my movements with that intensity that still made my stomach flutter. "Where were you?"
I headed straight for the comfortable lounge sofa in the corner, sinking into its plush cushions with relief. "I met someone," I said, reaching for one of the ginger cookies. "Another pregnant. Luna Cross."
I briefly explained the encounter—Luna's loneliness, her complaint about her silent husband, and Michael's sudden appearance.
"So that's why you left me here alone for so long?" Sebastian's voice carried that particular blend of accusation and hurt that only he could manage.
I sighed, recognizing the jealousy for what it was. "Sebastian, it was only twenty minutes—"
A knock on the door interrupted my defense. Marcus entered with his usual stack of documents, his expression professionally neutral as he handed them to Sebastian.
"The quarterly reports you requested," he said, then paused at the doorway. "There's one more thing. Lucas Ashton was in a car accident this morning. "
I froze. I stared at Sebastian's legs, still healing from his own near-fatal collision just weeks ago, and couldn't help but wonder at the sudden epidemic of car accidents among the men in our orbit. First Sebastian, now Lucas...
When I raised my eyes to meet Sebastian's gaze, something flickered across his face.
His expression was strange.