chapter 123
Sebastian's POV:
Elena stared at me across the hospital room, her hand unconsciously protective over her swollen belly, processing the news of Lucas Ashton's convenient misfortune.
She thinks I orchestrated it.
The thought brought a bitter smile to my lips.
"Sebastian?" Her voice cut through my thoughts, surprisingly steady. "I know what you're thinking."
I raised an eyebrow, maintaining the facade of casual indifference even as my muscles tensed. "Do you now?"
She moved closer, her movements careful but deliberate, until she stood beside my bed. "You think I suspect you arranged Lucas's accident." Her fingers found mine, warm against my cooler skin. "I don't."
The certainty in her voice caught me off guard. I studied her face, searching for deception, for the careful words of someone trying to placate a dangerous man. Found none.
"You're many things," she continued, her thumb tracing absent patterns on my palm. "Controlling, possessive, sometimes cruel. But you've never been a coward who strikes from the shadows. When you destroy someone, you look them in the eye."
In the corner, Marcus shifted minutely, and I caught his barely audible intake of breath. Even my most trusted lieutenant was surprised by how thoroughly my wife understood me.
"Besides," Elena added with a ghost of a smile, "you've been rather occupied with nearly dying for me. Hardly leaves time for orchestrating car accidents."
The tension in my chest eased, replaced by something warmer, more dangerous.
"Careful, darling," I murmured, bringing her hand to my lips. "Keep saying things like that and I might start believing I've trained you too well."
She rolled her eyes, but didn't pull away. "You haven't trained me at all. I've simply learned to read you."
Marcus cleared his throat. "Sir, the doctor is here for Mrs. Vane's checkup."
Dr. Harrison entered with his usual professional efficiency, but his expression grew concerned as he examined Elena. "Mrs. Vane, you've lost nearly two pounds since last week."
"I've been stressed," Elena admitted, shooting me a look that clearly said because someone decided to play human shield.
"The baby's development is normal," Dr. Harrison continued, "but your weight loss is concerning. You need rest, proper nutrition, and minimal stress."
The doctor had barely left when Margaret's call came through.
Elena sighed deeply, already knowing Marcus must have reported her condition—Margaret had always been particularly vigilant about such matters.
"Sebastian," her voice crackled through the speaker, set to video mode without warning. "Let me see her."
I angled the phone toward Elena, who straightened self-consciously.
"Two pounds lost?" Grandmother's tone could have frozen hellfire. "That's it. Elena, you're coming to Blackwood Manor immediately."
"Margaret, I'm fine—"
"Don't you 'I'm fine' me, young lady. This is Sebastian's doing, isn't it? He clearly can't take proper care of you." Her voice sharpened with maternal fury. "Pack your things. I'm sending Alfred with the car. There's no reason for you to suffer in that dreadful hospital with him when you could be resting properly at the manor."
The line went dead before I could protest further.
We exchanged a helpless look across the hospital room. His jaw tightened as he watched me, and I could see the war playing out behind those gray eyes.
"She's right," he said finally, though the words seemed to physically pain him. "You need proper rest, not... this." He gestured vaguely at the clinical surroundings.
I cupped her face, memorizing every detail. "Call me. Morning, noon, and night. I want to hear your voice."
"Demanding even when injured," she murmured, but her smile was fond.
"Go," I said, the word physically painful. "Take care of yourself. Get fat. I want you round and glowing when you come back."
She laughed and pressed a kiss to my temple. "I love you."
The words still had the power to stop my heart. Would probably always have that power.
"Go," I repeated, gentler this time. "Before I change my mind and chain you to my hospital bed."
She left with Marcus, taking all the warmth from the room.
The silence stretched, broken only by the mechanical beep of monitors and the distant sounds of hospital life.
The work became my only refuge.
I buried myself in financial reports, acquisition proposals, market analyses—anything to fill the empty spaces in my mind where thoughts of her threatened to take root.
By the third hour, I'd given up the pretense of concentration.
The rehabilitation specialist arrived for our evening session, putting me through exercises that sent fire through my healing muscles. I pushed harder than recommended, driven by the need to heal, to be whole again before our child arrived.
"Mr. Vane, you need to pace yourself," the therapist warned. "Pushing too hard could set back your recovery."
I ignored him, focusing on the goal. Three months, the doctor had said. Unacceptable. I'd be walking normally in two, running in two and a half.
My phone rang as the therapist packed up. Elena's name on the screen was better than any painkiller.
"Miss me already?" I answered, not bothering to hide my satisfaction.
"The greenhouse is beautiful," she said softly. I could hear the smile in her voice. "Your grandmother's been teaching me about the different varieties."
"Fascinating," I drawled, not giving a damn about flowers but happy to listen to her talk about them for hours if needed.
"Liar. You don't care about orchids."
"I care about you."
A pause. Then, quieter, "I know."
We talked until her words grew soft with exhaustion, about everything and nothing. About the baby's movements, about the dinner Grandmother had insisted she eat every bite of, about the sketch she'd started for my ring design.
"Sleep," I finally commanded when I heard her stifle another yawn.
"You too. Marcus texted me—you've been working since I left."
"Keeping tabs on me through my staff?"
"Someone has to." Her voice was fond, drowsy. "Goodnight, Sebastian."
"Sweet dreams, darling."
After she hung up, I found myself burying my face in the pillow she'd used during her afternoon nap. Her scent still lingered there.
Indeed, once a habit forms, it becomes nearly impossible to break.