chapter 161
Sebastian's POV:
My phone vibrated against the nightstand, the soft buzz cutting through the quiet of our bedroom.
Elena stirred beside me, her breathing deepening as she settled back into sleep, one hand protectively curved over her swollen belly.
I reached for the phone, careful not to disturb her. Marcus's name glowed on the screen, and with it came that familiar tightening in my chest. Nothing good ever came from calls at this hour.
Slipping from the bed, I padded barefoot to my study, closing the door softly behind me before answering.
"Talk," I commanded, my voice still rough with sleep.
"We have the full report on the Smiths," Marcus said without preamble. His tone carried that particular edge that meant trouble. "John Smith's wife—her medical records from three years ago show acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Successful bone marrow transplant, full remission."
I sank into my desk chair, already seeing where this was heading. The leather creaked beneath me as I leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And now?"
"Relapsed recently. But here's the interesting part—" Papers rustled on his end. "No active search for compatible donors through any legitimate channels. Instead, they packed up their entire operation and relocated to St. Valen."
A cold smile curved my lips. Of course. The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "They're not looking for a donor because they already have one in mind."
"That would be my assessment, sir."
My free hand clenched into a fist on the desktop. These people thought they could use Elena—my Elena, my pregnant wife—as some sort of biological resource for their own purposes. The audacity of it made my blood burn cold.
"They want her bone marrow," I stated flatly. It wasn't a question.
"The biological relationship would make her a potential match," Marcus confirmed. "Though with her current condition—"
"You think John Smith gives a damn about her condition?" I cut him off, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. " Elena's pregnancy is just an inconvenience to him, nothing more."
The leather of my chair groaned as my grip tightened on the armrest.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with implications.
"What are your orders?" Marcus asked.
My mind raced through possibilities, each more vicious than the last. But no—not now. "Increase surveillance on both of them. I want to know every move they make. But maintain distance. Let them think they're undetected."
"Consider it done."
"And Marcus?" I pressed my palm flat against the cool glass. "If either of them attempts to make contact with Elena—any contact—you have my permission to handle it. Permanently if necessary."
"Understood."
I ended the call and stood there in the darkness, my thoughts churning.
Padding back to our bedroom, I found Elena exactly as I'd left her, though her brow was furrowed as if even in sleep she couldn't find peace. I slipped back beneath the covers, gathering her carefully against my chest.
She made a soft sound, nuzzling into my warmth without waking. "Sebastian?" she mumbled against my skin.
"Shh, love. Just a work call. Go back to sleep."
Her hand found mine in the darkness, guiding it to rest on her belly. Beneath my palm, our baby shifted—a gentle flutter that never failed to steal my breath. "They're restless tonight," she whispered. "I think they miss their father's voice."
Pressing my lips to her hair, I began to speak softly, nonsense really—telling our unborn children about the new nursery, about the names we'd chosen, about the life waiting for them.
Elena's breathing gradually evened out, her body relaxing completely against mine.
---
The shrill ring of Elena's phone shattered the morning peace.
She stirred against me, making soft, confused sounds as she groped blindly for the device. I reached it first, noting the unknown number on the screen.
"Don't answer it," I murmured, already suspecting who it might be.
But she was already taking the phone, her voice thick with sleep. "Hello?"
I watched her expression shift from drowsy confusion to sharp alertness, her body tensing against mine. "What? That's impossible."
She pulled away to sit up, and I followed, wrapping my arm around her waist.
A pause. The color drained from her face.
I gently took the phone from her trembling fingers and put it on speaker. John Smith's voice filled the room, urgent and demanding.
"—need you to come to St. Valen General immediately. Scarlett's condition is critical. The leukemia has relapsed, and the donor from three years ago is no longer viable. She needs—"
I ended the call with a vicious jab at the screen.
Elena stared at me, her blue eyes wide with shock. "He said... he said my mother..."
"I know what he said." I pulled her back against my chest, feeling her whole body trembling. "Elena, love, look at me."
She turned those devastated eyes to mine, and I could see her trying to process the impossible.
"There's something you need to know," I said carefully. "Scarlett has leukemia. She had a bone marrow transplant three years ago from an anonymous donor. That donor is now ill themselves and can't donate again."
Elena blinked at me, her expression shifting from shock to something harder, more bitter. "So?"
"So they've come to St. Valen—"
"To find me." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "Years of nothing, of letting me believe she was dead, she shows up because she needs something from me."
I watched as the last fragile thread of hope in her eyes snapped.
The laugh that escaped her was hollow, devoid of any real humor. "God, I'm an idiot. Of course. They need a family match. They need my bone marrow."
I pulled her tight against my chest, my arms forming a protective cage around her and our unborn children.
"They won't touch you," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "I won't let them use you, Elena."
She was still for a moment in my embrace, then slowly, her arms came up to wrap around my waist. "I know you won't," she whispered against my chest. "I know you'd burn the world down before letting anyone hurt me."
She pulled back slightly to look up at me, and something shifted in those blue eyes—a flicker of resolve breaking through the numbness. "But I still need to go."