chapter 46
Sebastian's POV:
The words didn't compute immediately.
I sat frozen, hand still on the door handle, trying to process what she'd just said. Elena was supposed to be home. In our home.
"Why?" The question came out sharper than intended.
The thought of spending tonight alone—our second night as husband and wife—in that empty penthouse made something violent stir in my chest.
"Perhaps you should ask yourself what you might have done to upset her," Margaret replied, her voice laden with meaning. "She arrived looking... unsettled. Whatever happened, I suggest you check the news."
The line went dead before I could respond.
My grandmother had always been a master of the strategic hang-up, leaving just enough information to drive me to distraction.
Pulling up the news on my phone, I immediately saw my name splashed across the headlines.
Sebastian Vane's Secret Girlfriend.
Vane's Passionate Rendezvous at Private Club.
The accompanying photos showed me leaning close to that assistant in the private room—capturing those brief seconds in the most damning angles possible. Two minutes of interaction, twisted into a sordid affair.
The comment sections were a battlefield of speculation. Endless debates about whether she could finally "tame the Vane heir," discussions dissecting if this mystery woman had succeeded where countless others had failed.
Each word made my grip tighten around the phone until the case groaned under the pressure.
I hit Marcus's number, not bothering with pleasantries when he answered.
"The trending topics about me. Kill them. Now."
"Already on it, sir."
"Find out who planted that assistant and who took those photos. "
"Understood. Should I—"
"And Marcus?" My voice dropped to something lethal. "Whoever orchestrated this just cost me a night with my wife. Make sure they understand the magnitude of that mistake."
After hanging up, I stared at the phone screen. No messages from Elena. No missed calls. Nothing. She'd seen this, and instead of calling me, instead of confronting me, she'd fled to Grandmother.
"Change of plans," I told the driver. "Blackwood Manor. Now."
The manor looked particularly forbidding in the dying light, fog creeping across the grounds like grasping fingers.
Margaret was waiting in the main drawing room, her posture perfect despite the late hour. She studied me over her teacup with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"Have you dealt with it?" she asked without preamble.
"I will," I said curtly.
Marcus would ensure every trace vanished by morning, and whoever orchestrated this would learn exactly why crossing me was a fatal mistake.
She set down her teacup with deliberate precision. "She's in the greenhouse. And Sebastian?" Her gaze sharpened. "A word of advice—approach with caution. Whatever trust you'd begun to build is hanging by a thread."
I inclined my head and made my way through the familiar corridors.
I found Elena in the greenhouse, exactly where Alfred said she'd be. She was kneeling among the flower beds, carefully selecting stems for a basket beside her, utterly absorbed in her task.
She looked... peaceful. Content, even. As if she hadn't just seen photographs suggesting her husband of two days was already cheating. As if it didn't matter at all.
"Elena." Her name came out rougher than intended, heavy with all the explanations crowding my throat.
She didn't look up, just continued selecting lavender stems with careful precision. "Hello, Sebastian."
The greenhouse air hung thick with humidity and the scent of earth.
On the surface, she appeared perfectly composed, but I'd spent too many months studying every nuance of her behavior to be fooled.
There was a tension in her shoulders, a slight tremor in her fingers as she selected each stem. Something was wrong, lurking beneath that calm facade.
"The photos are misleading," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "She was in the room for less than two minutes. Damian, Felix—they were all there. It was nothing, Elena. A setup that I shut down immediately."
She'd apparently gathered enough lavender. Rising with fluid grace, she finally turned to face me, the basket hanging loosely from her fingers.
Her expression was serene.
"Of course, I believe you," she said with a lightness, those jade eyes calm as still water.
The words should have brought relief. This was exactly what I'd wanted—her trust, her understanding. Yet standing there, watching her regard me with such placid indifference, something cold and uncomfortable settled in my chest.
"You're... not upset?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice.
Elena brushed dirt from her hands with methodical movements.
She shook her head, as if the question barely warranted a response.
I pressed forward, unable to let it go. "Then why are you here? Grandmother said you arrived looking unsettled."
Elena lifted the basket slightly, indicating the lavender stems. "Isabella introduced me to a potential collaboration. They specifically requested lavender-inspired designs, and I remembered seeing these varieties in the greenhouse last time."
She adjusted one of the stems with careful fingers. "It seemed practical to come here rather than source them elsewhere."
The explanation was perfectly reasonable. Perfectly logical.
"Then let's go home," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "You can work on the designs there."
She shook her head, still with that maddening serenity. "I'm tired. I'll stay here tonight."
The rejection stung more than it should have. Two nights married, and already she was choosing distance over proximity. "Then I'm staying too," I said curtly, turning on my heel before she could respond.
I found Margaret still in the drawing room, looking distinctly pleased with the situation. The slight upturn of her lips when she saw my expression confirmed it—she was enjoying watching me struggle.
"We'll both be staying tonight," I informed her, not bothering to hide my frustration.
"Of course," she said smoothly. "Your usual room is prepared. And Sebastian? The boxing equipment in the east wing was serviced last week."
Twenty minutes later, I was pounding my fists into the heavy bag, each impact reverberating through my bones.
I'd gotten exactly what I'd demanded—Elena as my wife, bound to me legally and socially. Yet here I was, alone in a boxing ring, finally understanding a truth I'd been too arrogant to see before.
People truly were greedy creatures. Once you had someone by your side, you inevitably started craving their heart as well.