chapter 35
Elena's POV:
The moment our eyes met across the terrace, I felt my world tilt dangerously off its axis.
Sebastian stood perfectly still in the French doorway, his silhouette dark against the warm light spilling from the mansion behind him.
"How touching," he said finally, his tone carrying that deceptive softness that I'd learned meant imminent danger. "Am I interrupting something?"
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Adrian turned to follow my gaze, and I felt his body go rigid as he recognized his uncle's figure. "Uncle Sebastian?"
Sebastian's smile was razor-sharp and utterly without warmth as he stepped fully onto the terrace. "Adrian," he said conversationally, his footsteps deliberate and measured. "I believe I warned you once before about touching things that belong to me."
The words hit Adrian like a physical blow.
"I—no, Sebastian, you misunderstand," Adrian explained. "We were just saying goodbye. "
The light from the mansion's windows caught Sebastian's face as he approached, and what I saw there made my knees weak. His eyes held that particular emptiness that appeared just before he did something unforgivable.
I could practically see Sebastian's hands itching to wrap around his throat.
The words came tumbling out of me in a desperate rush. "It's not what it looks like. We were just saying goodbye. Adrian, you need to go. Now."
But Adrian wasn't listening to my frantic whispers. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and looked directly at Sebastian.
"Since Elena has chosen you," Adrian said quietly, his voice steadying, "I hope you'll treat her well. But this obsessive possessiveness of yours—it needs to stop, Sebastian. No one wants to be constantly watched and suspected. She's not a possession to be guarded."
The silence that followed was deafening. I held my breath, waiting for the explosion.
Instead, Sebastian's smile turned even more dangerous, cold amusement flickering in his eyes.
"I don't recall asking for your advice on how to handle my relationships, nephew," he said softly, his voice carrying that lethal calm.
I exhaled slowly with relief that he hadn't immediately resorted to violence. But the tension in the air was still thick enough to cut with a knife.
Adrian's chin lifted defiantly, and I saw something reckless flash in his eyes. "Of course you can remain stubborn," he said, his voice gaining strength despite the danger radiating from Sebastian. "But when you do, when you finally drive her away with your paranoia and control—I'll be there to take her back."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Adrian held Sebastian's gaze for a long, weighted moment—two men staring at each other across an unbridgeable chasm of blood and rivalry. There was no fear in Adrian's expression now, only a kind of resigned determination, as if he'd already accepted whatever consequences might come.
Then, slowly, he turned to me. His smile was soft and heartbreakingly sad, full of all the things he would never say, all the futures that would never be.
It was the smile of a man saying goodbye not just to a person, but to hope itself.
"Be happy, Elena," he said quietly, his voice carrying across the terrace like a benediction.
And then he was walking away, his footsteps steady and unhurried as he disappeared through the French doors, leaving Sebastian and me alone with the weight of what had just transpired.
---
The ride back home was tense and silent. The partition between us and Marcus remained firmly raised.
Sebastian sat rigidly beside me, his hand clasping mine with intensity. I could feel the questions building in him, could sense the storm of emotions he was struggling to contain.
Finally, as the city lights began to blur past the windows, he spoke.
"Do you regret it?" His voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the hairline cracks in his composure. "Not going with him?"
I looked out the window at the streets sliding by, at the ordinary people living their ordinary lives, completely unaware of the drama playing out in the back of a Rolls-Royce.
"I told you I would stay," I said quietly, my voice as flat and measured as I could make it.
But Sebastian wasn't satisfied with that answer. His grip on my hand tightened, and when I glanced at him, I could see the doubt eating away at him like acid.
"If there was no baby," he pressed, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "would you have gone with him?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. I went very still, my breath catching in my throat as the honesty of it settled between us. If there was no baby—if this had happened months ago, before I'd learned to survive in his world, before I'd grown tired of fighting battles I could never win—would I have taken Adrian's hand and run?
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths. And in that silence, Sebastian found his answer.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I spoke. "A hypothetical question can only yield a hypothetical answer," I said quietly, my voice carefully neutral. "What's the point of torturing ourselves with scenarios that never existed?"
His grip on my hand tightened almost imperceptibly, and when I glanced at him, there was something fierce and possessive blazing in his eyes.
"Then marry me," he said suddenly, the words coming out like a command rather than a request. "Now. Tonight."
I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "What?"
He turned to face me fully, and I could see the desperate determination in his face. "You said you'd stay by my side, didn't you?" His voice carried a sharp edge now, challenging and possessive. "Then marry me."
The words weren't a request—they were a demand wrapped in the echo of my own promise, thrown back at me like a chain I'd forged myself.
I found myself grasping for any excuse, any delay. "Your birth certificate," I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Lady Margaret said she couldn't remember where she'd put it—"
"She'll remember tonight," Sebastian cut me off, his voice flat and final.