chapter 141
Sebastian's POV:
The silence that followed my declaration hung between us like a blade waiting to drop.
Nicholas set his whiskey down with exaggerated care, the crystal meeting mahogany with a soft click that seemed to echo in the private room.
He studied me for a long moment, taking in my perfectly calm expression, the stillness that he'd once told me was more unnerving than any display of rage.
"You know," he said finally, voice carefully neutral, "sometimes you genuinely terrify me, Sebastian."
I allowed myself a slight smile. "Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch."
"I'm serious." He leaned back, but his casual posture couldn't hide the tension. "The way you can sit there, planning someone's complete destruction while looking like you're discussing stock portfolios..."
"Is that a no?" I kept my tone mild, but we both heard the steel beneath. "Because if you're not interested, Nicholas, I can find other—"
"I didn't say no." He cut me off, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just... processing the scale of what you're proposing."
I leaned forward slightly. "Let me make this simple. You help me with this, and when it's done, I guarantee your mother won't be able to interfere with you and Rose anymore. "
His hand stilled. He was quiet for a long moment, processing not just the offer but what it revealed about how far I was willing to go.
"Without hurting her," Nicholas said finally, reaching for his cigarette case.
"Deal."
We made our way out of the private room, through the club's opulent halls where members pretended not to notice us while hanging on every gesture.
As we reached the main floor, I spotted a familiar figure by the bar—Lucas Ashton in his wheelchair. He'd clearly seen us too, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he tried to puzzle out what we could possibly be discussing in private.
I took in the sight of him, who was confined to a wheelchair from his car accident. Life truly did come full circle, didn't it? The irony wasn't lost on me.
Lucas wheeled himself over with practiced precision, a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sebastian, Nicholas. What a surprise. Didn't expect to see you here—isn't Elena eight months along now? Though I suppose some men just can't resist... alternative entertainment while their wives are indisposed."
I heard Nicholas's sharp intake of breath beside me. The insult was calculated, designed to provoke, but Lucas had gravely miscalculated his target.
I smiled, cold and sharp. "How fascinating that your mind went straight to infidelity, Lucas. Though I suppose when you're reduced to... your current state, projection becomes a comfort."
I let my gaze drift deliberately to his wheelchair. "Tell me, do they charge you full price here, or is there a discount for those who can only participate from a seated position?"
His face flushed dark red. "You bastard—"
"We're here for business, actually," I continued smoothly. "Nicholas and I were just discussing some fascinating acquisition opportunities. Distressed assets, you understand. Companies weakened by... let's say, leadership instability."
The color drained from Lucas's face as quickly as it had come. "You wouldn't—"
"The Ashton Group's stock has been quite volatile lately, hasn't it?" I tilted my head with mock concern. "All those nervous investors, wondering if a man who can't even stand can truly stand at the helm of a corporation."
"My condition is temporary," he ground out.
"Is it?" I smiled wider. "How optimistic of you. "
I turned to leave, satisfied with the fear I'd planted, when Nicholas felt compelled to interject.
"Don't worry, Lucas," Nicholas said with what he probably thought was reassurance. "Sebastian's not interested in the Ashton Group. You're not nearly significant enough for him to bother with."
The words, meant as comfort, landed like another blow. Lucas's face went from white to red, humiliation replacing fear. Sometimes Nicholas's attempts at kindness cut deeper than my cruelty ever could.
"Enjoy your whiskey," I said, already walking away.
Behind us, I heard the crash of glass hitting the bar.
---
The drive home was quiet, Nicholas having departed for his own evening plans.
I spent the time reviewing Marcus's security reports on my phone, though my mind kept drifting to Elena. These days, I found myself eager to return home.
The penthouse elevator opened to unexpected voices—familiar ones that made me pause. Luna Cross's distinctive laugh echoed from the living room, followed by my wife's softer response.
I found them in the main sitting area: Elena curled on the sofa with her hands resting on her swollen belly, Luna perched on the ottoman across from her, gesturing animatedly.
Michael stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, studying the city view with the careful attention of a man avoiding conversation.
"Sebastian!" Luna spotted me first, bouncing up with her characteristic energy. "Perfect timing. I was just telling Elena about this amazing prenatal yoga instructor—"
"How thoughtful," I interrupted, moving to Elena's side.
She looked up at me with those blue eyes, a small smile playing at her lips.
The sight of it made something tight in my chest loosen. She'd been so withdrawn since her father's death, and seeing her engaged, present, even slightly animated with Luna's company was a relief I hadn't expected to feel so acutely.
"Cross. Didn't expect to see you here." I acknowledged.
Michael turned from the window, meeting my gaze with his usual controlled calm. "Luna insisted we stop by. Something about Elena needing more social interaction."
The way he emphasized 'insisted' made it clear this wasn't his idea of an ideal evening. I glanced at the two women chatting animatedly on the sofa—Elena actually looked engaged for once, her hands gesturing as she explained something to Luna.
"Well, since you're here with nothing better to do," I said, letting a slight edge creep into my voice, "I have a training room downstairs. Fully equipped boxing ring. "
"That sounds perfect!" Luna's voice cut through before Michael could form his refusal. She'd apparently been listening despite seeming absorbed in conversation. "Michael loves boxing. Don't you, darling?"
Michael's expression went carefully blank. "Luna—"
"Oh, this is wonderful," she continued, clapping her hands together with genuine enthusiasm. "Some physical activity would do him good."
She turned those bright eyes on her husband. "Go on, give Elena and me some time alone."
And just like that, we were dismissed.