chapter 169
Elena's POV:
The afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the living room floor where I sat curled against Sebastian's chest.
His fingers traced lazy circles on my swollen belly. The baby shifted beneath his touch, as if recognizing their father's presence.
"They're active today," he murmured against my hair, his voice carrying that particular softness he reserved for moments like these.
"Mm," I agreed drowsily, letting my eyes drift closed. "I think they like the sunshine."
The warmth of the moment wrapped around us like a blanket. Here, in the safety of our home, with his arms around us, I could almost forget the shadows that had haunted us both.
The shrill ring of my phone shattered the tranquility.
I groaned, not wanting to move from my comfortable position. "Let it go to voicemail."
But the caller was persistent, the phone ringing again immediately after it stopped. Sebastian's body tensed beneath me, that ever-present vigilance returning. With a resigned sigh, I reached for the device on the side table.
The number was unfamiliar. Local, but not one I recognized.
"Hello?" I answered cautiously, still nestled against Sebastian's chest.
"Is this Robert's daughter?" The voice on the other end was female, cultured, with an undertone of barely restrained excitement that immediately put me on edge.
"Yes, this is. May I ask who's calling?"
"Oh, thank God!" The woman's composure cracked slightly. "My name is Victoria Hartwell. I'm Robert Sterling's sister—your father's sister."
The words hit me like ice water. I sat up abruptly, Sebastian's hand immediately moving to the small of my back in support.
"I... I'm sorry, there must be some mistake," I managed, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "My father didn't have any family."
"No, no mistake," Victoria rushed to assure me. "I know this must be a shock. We've only just discovered... Robert was taken from us when he was five years old. We've been searching for forty-one years."
My hand trembled, and Sebastian gently took the phone from me, switching it to speaker so we could both hear. His other arm wrapped around me, anchoring me as the world tilted on its axis.
"Ms. Hartwell," Sebastian's voice was calm but firm. "This is Sebastian Vane, her husband. You'll understand that such claims require verification."
"Of course, Mr. Vane. We've already confirmed through the orphanage where Robert was raised. I'm sure that he is my father's son." Victoria's voice wavered with emotion. "William—that was his birth name. William Theodore Hartwell."
The name hit me like a physical blow. William. My legs suddenly felt weak, and I gripped Sebastian's arm to steady myself. My father had told me that name.
"I... I don't..." The words wouldn't come. My mind was reeling, unable to process this complete upheaval of everything I thought I knew.
"We're just so eager to meet," Victoria continued, her professional composure clearly struggling against raw emotion. "Father is beside himself. He's seventy-eight now, and he never gave up hope of finding his son. When can we see you? We can come to St. Valen immediately, or if you prefer—"
"Tomorrow," Sebastian interrupted smoothly, his hand tightening protectively on my shoulder. "If you could come to Blackwood Manor tomorrow afternoon, we can arrange a proper meeting."
"Yes, yes of course. Thank you." Victoria's relief was palpable.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?" Victoria's voice carried a note of uncertainty.
"Elena," I replied quietly. "Elena Ross."
After Sebastian ended the call with promises to send the manor's address, I sat in stunned silence.
"Darling?" Sebastian's voice was gentle as he turned me to face him.
"But Robert's gone," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "He's not here anymore."
"Perhaps that's exactly why meeting you will bring them comfort," Sebastian said softly, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "You're a part of him that still lives on."
That evening, I barely touched my dinner, my stomach too knotted with anticipation and anxiety to handle much food. Sebastian didn't push, just made sure I at least had some soup and bread.
"Tell me about the Hartwells," I asked Margaret when she joined us for tea afterward. If anyone would know about American old money families, it would be her.
Margaret's eyes sharpened with interest. "The Hartwells? Old money family, if I recall correctly. Shipping fortune originally, diversified into banking and real estate over the generations. Very private, very proper. Why do you ask?"
I explained about the call, watching her expression shift from polite interest to genuine surprise.
"Your father was a Hartwell?" She set down her teacup with a delicate clink. "My dear, I had heard they lost a son many years ago. To think it was your father..."
She sighed deeply, her expression growing distant with memory. "The entire Hartwell family spent considerable resources searching for him. They turned New York upside down looking for that boy."
Margaret's fingers traced the rim of her teacup absently. "No wonder they never found him—he'd been taken all the way here to St. Valen. The distance alone would have made it nearly impossible to trace."
That night, I lay awake despite my exhaustion, my mind spinning with questions and possibilities. Sebastian held me close, his presence solid and reassuring in the darkness.
---
The morning dawned grey and misty, typical for Blackwood Manor.
I dressed carefully in a soft blue maternity dress that Sebastian said brought out my eyes, though I felt like I was preparing for battle rather than a family reunion.
"You're beautiful," Sebastian said, appearing behind me in the mirror as I fussed with my hair. "And they're going to love you."
"You can't know that," I protested weakly.
"I can." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Because I know you."
By the time the afternoon arrived, I was a bundle of nerves. Sebastian had been called away to handle some urgent business matter, though he'd promised to return before the Hartwells arrived. I found myself pacing the morning room, unable to settle anywhere for long.
The sound of car wheels on gravel made my heart leap into my throat. They were here.
I moved to the window, peering out through the gauze curtains. An elegant black car had pulled up to the entrance, and my breath caught as the occupants emerged.
The woman—Victoria, presumably—was tall and poised, her dark hair streaked with silver and pulled back in an elegant chignon. But it was the elderly man beside her who made my heart clench. Even from a distance, I could see it—the shape of his jaw, the way he held his shoulders.
He looked like my father might have, given another twenty years and a different life.
Alfred appeared at the doorway. "Mrs. Vane, the Hartwell family has arrived."
I smoothed my dress with trembling hands. "Please, show them in."
The walk from the morning room to the main foyer felt endless.
Each step carried me closer to a revelation decades in the making. As I rounded the corner, I saw them standing in the entry, Victoria's hand on her father's arm as if to steady him.
Our eyes met—mine and Theodore Hartwell's—and the world seemed to stop.