chapter 37
Elena's POV:
Margaret rose gracefully and moved to an ornate safe.
With practiced movements, she withdrew a thick document, its cream-colored pages bearing the intricate seal of the Vane family—roses and falcons intertwined in gold and crimson.
"This document represents the family's recognition of your marriage," she said, placing the papers carefully in my hands.
I took them absent-mindedly. My mind was occupied with the crushing weight of responsibility she'd just placed on my shoulders to fully process what I was now carrying.
The weight of the document in my hands felt like a chain, like a crown, like a promise I wasn't sure I was ready to keep.
When we returned to the main hall, Sebastian immediately stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the papers I carried. I placed them in his hands, and he handled them carefully.
"Take care of her, Sebastian," Lady Margaret said, her voice heavy with earnest concern and deep affection. "Don't do anything you'll regret."
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The car felt even smaller on the drive across town, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of what we'd just accomplished.
Now we only needed my identification documents to complete the marriage process, which meant we had to return to my family home—or rather, my stepmother's house—a place I hadn't set foot in for an entire year.
The anxiety of facing my father felt crushing.
How could I possibly explain my year-long disappearance? What words could I use to make him understand where I'd been without revealing the truth of my captivity? And then there was the even more daunting prospect of announcing not just my sudden marriage to Sebastian Vane, but also my pregnancy—two life-altering revelations that would undoubtedly shock him to his core.
I was terrified of seeing disappointment in his eyes.
"Marcus, drive to the Sterling estate," Sebastian instructed, his voice cutting through my increasingly anxious thoughts.
"Wait," I interrupted, the word coming out more sharply than I'd intended.
Sebastian turned to look at me, and I found myself reaching for his hand with trembling fingers, my touch uncertain and hesitant. "Could we... could we go tomorrow instead? It's getting late, and—"
Sebastian studied me in silence, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim car interior. The weight of his attention made me fidget nervously.
"Besides," I added in a smaller voice, " the registry office is probably closed by now anyway."
Sebastian's intense gaze fixed on me, studying my expression with that unsettling ability he had to see right through me.
"Delaying won't change anything," Sebastian said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of finality. "You can't run from this, Elena."
I felt my shoulders slump slightly, the weight of inevitability pressing down on me. "I know," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
" I just..." I paused, gathering what little courage I had left. "I just need a little time to prepare myself for facing my father. At least let me tell him during daylight hours instead of showing up at his door in the middle of the night to announce this."
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of what was to come.
I could feel myself beginning to crumble, my last shred of resistance wavering. I opened my mouth, ready to surrender completely to whatever timeline he demanded, when his voice cut through the quiet.
"Marcus," he said suddenly, his tone clipped. "Go home."
Relief flooded through me so completely that I felt boneless against the leather seat. The emotional roller coaster of the day—the constant shifting between tension and temporary reprieve—combined with the ever-present exhaustion of pregnancy, hit me all at once.
My eyelids grew heavy as the car's gentle motion lulled me toward sleep.
I must have dozed off almost immediately, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in our bed, soft sheets surrounding me. Sebastian was pulling the covers up to my chin, his movements careful and quiet in the darkened room.
Through half-opened eyes, I watched as he gently brushed the hair away from my forehead, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered for me to go back to sleep. I let myself drift away again, surrendering to the exhaustion that had been building all day.
Perhaps it was the thought of seeing my father tomorrow, but my dreams carried me back to childhood—to those precious early years when both my parents were still there, flanking me on either side of the big bed as we read bedtime stories together.
I could almost feel their warmth, hear the gentle cadence of their voices weaving magical tales of far-off places.
But dreams have a cruel way of shifting without warning.
Suddenly, the house filled with raised voices, sharp words cutting through the night air. I watched helplessly as my mother walked away without looking back, climbing into a car that would take her out of my life forever. Then my father moved into his new life with his new family.
In the dream, I found myself small and alone, knees drawn up to my chest as I sat on my dark bed, staring out at the cold moon through my bedroom window.
The loneliness felt endless, a black void that seemed to swallow everything warm and safe I'd ever known.
Then, somehow, I was being pulled into warmth—strong arms wrapping around me, gentle fingers wiping away tears I didn't realize I was crying, a soothing voice murmuring comfort while a hand rubbed slow circles on my back.
The boundary between dream and reality blurred until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
When I finally opened my eyes fully, Sebastian's face came into focus above me.
"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked quietly, his eyes dark and unreadable as he watched the tears trail down my cheek.
I felt my eyes growing hot again and instinctively burrowed into his chest, hiding my face against the warmth of his shirt for a moment. The solid reassurance of his presence helped chase away the lingering shadows of the dream, but when I tried to close my eyes again, sleep remained elusive.
I pulled back to look at him properly, taking in the exhaustion etched around his eyes.
His hair was tousled from sleep, and there was a drowsy softness to his features that made him look gentler, more vulnerable. Even through his obvious fatigue, he was still focused entirely on me.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice rough with tiredness.
"I can't fall back asleep," I admitted, settling more comfortably against him.
There was something boldly spoiled in the way I made my demand, knowing full well he'd indulge me. "Will you talk to me? I don't want to be alone with my thoughts."
Sebastian had always given me whatever I asked for—everything except the one thing I'd wanted most.
Sometimes, in moments like this, when he held me so carefully, I found myself wondering what might have happened if we'd met differently. If he'd approached me in some normal way, if there hadn't been locked doors between us from the very beginning...
"Alright," Sebastian murmured, his arm tightening around me slightly. "What do you want to talk about?"
I was quiet for a moment, gathering the courage to ask something that had been haunting me for months. When I finally spoke, my voice came out smaller than I'd intended.
"Why do you like me?"