chapter 36
Elena's POV:
"Drive to Blackwood Manor," Sebastian commanded, his voice cold. "Now."
"Yes, sir," Marcus replied without hesitation, already adjusting our route with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd learned never to question his employer's orders, regardless of the hour.
The leather seats beneath us were cold despite the heater running at full blast.
"This is insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the purr of the engine. "It's too late, Sebastian. Won't this disturb Lady Margaret's rest?"
His profile was sharp in the passing streetlights, jaw set. "She'll understand," he said, his voice carrying an edge of something I couldn't quite place.
The city blurred past the windows in streaks of neon and shadow.
My free hand drifted unconsciously to my still-flat stomach, where a life was growing.
Sebastian's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, a gesture so gentle it made my chest ache with its contradiction to the storm I could feel brewing beneath his composed exterior.
The familiar Gothic silhouette of Blackwood Manor rose before us, its towers and spires cutting sharp lines against the star-studded sky.
Sebastian squeezed my hand tighter as we approached the main entrance. "Ready?"
No. "As I'll ever be."
The heavy oak door opened before Sebastian could even ring the bell—Alfred must have heard the car's engine cutting through the night's silence.
He stood there in his perfectly pressed uniform despite the ungodly hour, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes holding a flicker of surprise at our unexpected arrival.
"Master Sebastian," he said with a small bow. "Miss Elena. Lady Margaret is—"
"Awake, I'm sure," came a crisp voice from behind him.
Lady Margaret descended the grand staircase like something from an old film, her deep purple velvet robe flowing around her like liquid shadow.
Even at this hour, even roused from sleep, she moved with an elegance that reminded me why Sebastian carried himself like royalty. It was in his blood, bred into his bones the way mine had been taught to bow.
"Grandmother," Sebastian said without preamble, his voice cutting through the night air with surgical precision, "we're getting married. I need the documents."
The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy and choking.
Lady Margaret's gaze shifted to me, and I could see in her expression that she'd been expecting this moment to arrive sooner or later. Her pale blue eyes were gentle as they met mine, filled with understanding.
"And you, my dear girl?" she asked softly, her voice carrying warmth and genuine concern. "Is this truly what you want?"
Under her gentle but searching gaze, I felt Sebastian's hand gradually tighten around mine, his grip becoming almost painful in its intensity. I glanced at him and saw something unsettling in his eyes—a mixture of pleading desperation and barely veiled threat, as if he was simultaneously begging me to say yes and warning me of the consequences if I didn't.
The weight of his expectation, his need, pressed down on me like a physical force. I knew there was no escape route, no magical words that would free me from this moment.
With the resignation of someone who had long since stopped fighting battles I could never win, I nodded.
"Well," Sebastian said immediately, his voice tight with barely restrained urgency as he turned to his grandmother. "Then we can proceed. I need those documents, Grandmother—"
"I'll speak with Elena alone," Lady Margaret interrupted, her gaze still fixed on me. Her voice carried that quiet authority. "And when we're finished, I'll place the documents in her hands, not yours."
Sebastian's entire body went rigid beside me. "Grandmother—"
"Alone, Sebastian."
For a moment, I thought he might refuse. His grip on my hand tightened almost painfully, and when I glanced at him, his eyes held a kind of desperate intensity that made my heart stutter. Don't change your mind, those eyes seemed to plead.
"We'll be in the conservatory," Lady Margaret said, already moving toward the back of the house. "Come along, dear."
---
The conservatory was a wonderland of glass and moonlight, climbing vines and exotic flowers creating shadows that danced across the stone floor.
Lady Margaret led me to a pair of wrought-iron chairs nestled among the blooms, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and roses.
She took my hands in hers, her skin papery but warm, her touch infinitely gentle.
"I'm glad you've agreed to marry Sebastian," she said softly, her voice carrying layers of emotion I couldn't quite decipher. "I know he has many flaws, dear—his possessiveness, his need to control everything around him. These aren't small failings."
She paused, her thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. "He lost his parents very young, you see. Grew up here with me, but I was already old, set in my ways. He took over the family business far too early, learned to command before he learned to love. He received so little affection, and no one ever taught him how to give it properly."
Her eyes grew distant, filled with old pain. "He learned to love the way his grandfather did—with fierce intensity, with the need to possess completely. It made him... obsessive. But his heart, Elena, his heart is good. I can see how he looks at you. It's real, what he feels."
The weight of her words settled over me like a heavy cloak. "I know you'll be patient with him," she continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "And if there ever comes a day when you... when you feel you must leave... please, child, don't let him fall into complete despair."
For a terrifying moment, I almost believed Lady Margaret could see straight through to the desperate escape plans I'd been nurturing in the darkest corners of my mind.
Despite everything—the control, the manipulation, the suffocating possessiveness—I felt an unexpected stab of pity for Sebastian pierce through my heart. The image of a lost little boy who'd never learned how to love without devouring flickered in my mind, and something inside me ached with unwanted compassion.
My emotions twisted into a knot so complex I couldn't begin to untangle it. How could I feel sorry for my captor? How could I carry responsibility for the very person who'd stolen my freedom?