chapter 131
Sebastian's POV:
The leather-bound volume of International Financial Regulations felt heavier than usual in my hands.
I'd grabbed it as a joke, expecting Elena to laugh and demand something more interesting—a novel, perhaps, or even one of those pregnancy guides she pretended not to read.
Instead, she'd nodded seriously against my chest, murmuring, "That sounds perfect. All those regulations and subsections... very soothing."
I'd been trapped by my own jest.
"You're serious," I said, still disbelieving.
"Mmm-hmm." She snuggled closer, one hand resting on her swollen belly. "Mother used to read tax codes when I couldn't sleep as a child. Said boring things worked better than fairy tales."
And so here I was, three chapters deep into international banking law, watching as my wife fought a losing battle against unconsciousness.
"Article 47, subsection C," I continued in a low murmur, my free hand tracing gentle circles on her belly. "Regarding cross-border transaction limitations in emerging markets..."
Her breathing had finally evened out, deep and steady against my chest. I continued reading for another few minutes, gradually lowering my voice to barely a whisper, testing the waters.
"...pursuant to regulatory framework established in..." I let the words trail off, holding my breath.
One second. Two. Three.
Elena didn't stir. No searching eyes, no anxious fumbling for my hand. Just the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, one small hand still curled into my shirt.
I exhaled slowly, setting the book aside with careful movements. Finally. Three chapters of international banking regulations would put anyone to sleep, though I hadn't expected her to last past the first section on derivatives trading.
The relief was short-lived. My phone, which I'd set to vibrate and placed on the nightstand, was buzzing insistently against the wood.
In the quiet room, it might as well have been a fire alarm. I snatched it up quickly, angling the screen away from Elena's face.
Marcus's name illuminated the display.
Investigation complete. Sending secure report now.
The encrypted file loaded slowly, each second stretching like an eternity. When the contents finally appeared, I had to read it twice to fully process what Marcus had uncovered.
Robert Ross—my father-in-law, the man who'd rather tend to his dying harpy of a wife than attend his own daughter's birthday—was playing a far more dangerous game than I'd imagined.
He'd been bribing key personnel at St. Mary's transplant committee, ensuring Rebecca's priority ranking stayed perpetually low.
Not to help her, as any devoted husband might, but to guarantee she'd never receive a compatible organ.
The money trail was subtle, almost elegant in its cruelty—charitable donations to board members' pet projects, consulting fees to their spouses' firms, scholarship funds for their children.
If Marcus hadn't been specifically looking for it, the corruption would have gone unnoticed until Rebecca flatlined.
Elena shifted against me, her hand sliding across my chest to rest over my heart. Even in sleep, she remained restless, searching.
Her fingers clutched at my shirt, her breathing catching slightly whenever I so much as adjusted my position. The insecurity that plagued her waking hours followed her into dreams.
"Shh," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I'm here, little one. Always here."
She settled again, but I could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled into my shirt.
The report continued scrolling, revealing more layers to Robert's plan. He'd been systematically transferring Sterling assets—not for himself, but to Elena through trust funds and shell companies.
Rebecca's jewelry collection, liquidated piece by piece, with proceeds flowing into accounts bearing his daughter's name. Even the estate, listed through intermediaries, had Elena marked as the sole beneficiary in carefully hidden documentation.
All the hallmarks of a man preparing to die.
He wanted Rebecca gone, wanted freedom from the woman who'd destroyed his original family and then systematically erased every trace of that first, happier life.
I typed one-handed, careful not to disturb Elena's rest.
Deploy Aegis. Full surveillance on R. Ross. Don't let him harm himself. And Marcus? Clean up his trail at St. Mary's. Every bribe, every payment, every connection. When Rebecca dies, I want it to look like natural causes and bad luck, nothing more.
Understood. Anything else?
The birthday venue preparations are confirmed. Make sure everything proceeds on schedule.
Copy that.
I set the phone aside, my mind already shifting from Robert's dark machinations to the considerably lighter matter of Elena's surprise.
I'd commissioned an entire team of set designers, imported specific flowers from three different continents, hired a full orchestra to hide in the walls.
---
Morning came too soon, bringing with it the familiar numbness in my right arm where Elena had used it as her personal pillow all night.
She stirred as sunlight crept through the curtains, making small protesting noises that never failed to make me smile, even as pins and needles shot through my awakening limb.
"Good morning, beautiful," I murmured, watching her fight consciousness with the determination of someone who'd perfected the art of denial.
"No," she mumbled, pulling a pillow over her head. "Too early. Baby says five more minutes."
"The baby says that, does it?" I pulled the pillow away gently, amused by her groan of protest. "And here I thought it was on my side."
Elena cracked one eye open, glaring at me with all the ferocity of a sleepy kitten. "It knows Daddy is mean and makes Mommy wake up."
I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, then another to her pouting lips. "Then sleep a bit more. Bad Daddy has to go to his rehabilitation training."
She made a soft, contented sound, already burrowing back into the warm spot I was vacating.
The rehabilitation sessions had been paying off spectacularly. I could walk without assistance now, the limp barely noticeable unless I overexerted myself. Dr. Harrison had called me his most determined patient, marveling at the speed of my recovery.
"You should tell Elena immediately," he'd insisted yesterday, watching me complete a series of exercises that would have been impossible just weeks ago. "She'll be thrilled."
"No." I'd toweled off the sweat, already planning. "It'll be a birthday surprise."
The doctor had shaken his head, muttering something about dramatic fools, but he'd agreed to keep quiet.