chapter 151
Elena's POV:
"Mother," Nicholas warned, but Grace held up a hand to silence him.
"Sophia tells me she was attacked," Grace continued, moving to stand beside her niece in a clear show of solidarity. "Struck across the face by this... person."
The way she said 'person' made it clear she had other words in mind.
"She called Lily names," I said, unable to stay silent. "Horrible, cruel names."
Grace's gaze flickered to me dismissively. "Children must learn their place in society early. If the truth hurts—"
"The truth?" Rose's voice was deadly quiet. "The truth is that she's been spewing poison—"
Before Rose could finish, Sophia suddenly lurched forward with a theatrical sob, flinging herself into Grace's arms like a child seeking comfort. "Auntie Grace, she's being so cruel to me! I was only trying to protect Nicholas from making another mistake!"
The performance was so overdone that I might have laughed if the situation weren't so serious. Sophia buried her face against Grace's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with what I was certain were crocodile tears.
Grace's arms came around her automatically, but I caught the brief flicker of calculation in her eyes. She was too intelligent not to see through Sophia's dramatics, but clearly, she'd decided to use them to her advantage.
"There, there, dear," Grace murmured, patting Sophia's back while her cold gaze remained fixed on Rose. "You're safe now."
Rose's spine straightened, and I saw her hands clench at her sides.
Sebastian turned to Nicholas, his voice deceptively casual. "Still holding back?"
The words hung in the air for a heartbeat. Then Nicholas moved—swift and decisive. He grabbed Sophia by the arm, yanking her from Grace's embrace and flinging her aside like a discarded doll.
She stumbled, barely catching herself against a side table before hitting the floor.
The drawing room erupted. Gasps, dropped teacups, Grace's sharp intake of breath. Sophia lay stunned, her perfect facade cracking as she stared up at Nicholas in disbelief.
This was the same girl Grace had doted on for years, treating her better than most treated their own daughters. The servants had whispered about it endlessly—how Nicholas's mother showered Sophia with gifts, defended her against any slight, practically raised her as family.
And now her son had kicked her like a stray dog.
"Nicholas!" Grace's voice cracked with genuine shock.
He ignored her completely, his attention fixed on Sophia with cold precision. "Lock her up," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Third floor storage room. No visitors."
The security team hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough to glance at Grace's stricken face—before training kicked in. Two men stepped forward, hauling Sophia to her feet with practiced efficiency.
"Nicholas!" Grace shot to her feet, her composure finally cracking. "Have you lost your mind? How dare you treat Sophia this way!"
Nicholas turned to his mother slowly, his expression carved from ice. "Conspiring with kidnappers is a federal crime, Mother. Or have you forgotten that little detail in your eagerness to play your games five years ago?"
Grace's hands trembled before she clenched them into fists. "You ungrateful—"
"Careful," Nicholas cut her off. "Father's been remarkably patient with your schemes. But I wonder how patient he'd remain if he knew the full extent of tonight's performance. Divorce papers can be drawn up so quickly these days."
Grace whirled on Sebastian, her mask finally shattering completely. "You've poisoned my son against me! Turned him into your puppet!"
Sebastian's eyebrow arched with mock innocence. "Mrs. Black, I'm wounded. If you hadn't conspired with kidnappers and accused Rose of orchestrating her own abduction five years ago, how could I possibly slander you? I may be many things, but I don't fabricate evidence where none exists."
The words hit their mark with surgical precision.
Grace's mouth opened, then closed, the full weight of her exposure crushing down on her. She'd been caught red-handed, her schemes laid bare, and there was no graceful exit from this disaster.
I'd been ready to step forward, to add my voice as witness to Rose's innocence, but realized it was no longer necessary. The confrontation had resolved itself with devastating efficiency.
Rose stood frozen, staring at Nicholas as if seeing him for the first time.
Her shock was palpable—this was the same man who'd treated her with such cold disdain just hours ago.
"Your hand," Nicholas said quietly, already reaching for her.
Without waiting for permission, he gently took her hand—the one she'd used to slap Sophia. His thumb brushed over her palm, checking for swelling from the impact.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, his touch surprisingly tender as he examined her fingers.
"I don't understand," Rose whispered, her confusion evident. "Earlier, you—"
"Earlier, I was a fool," Nicholas interrupted softly, his fingers still gentle on her hand. "Five years ago, I was worse than a fool—I was blind."
Rose's eyes widened, but he pressed on, the words seeming to physically pain him.
"That kidnapping... Mother told me you orchestrated the whole thing. That you'd arranged to have yourself and Sophia taken, trying to force me to choose between you." His jaw tightened. "She even showed me evidence—fabricated communications with the kidnappers that made it look like you were behind everything."
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I believed her. God help me, I believed every word."
Rose remained frozen, her face a mask of shock as she processed this revelation. Nicholas's grip on her hand tightened slightly, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Rose, please... I know I don't deserve forgiveness. What I did to you, how I treated you—" He swallowed hard. "But I need you to know I'm sorry. So deeply sorry."
Sebastian's hand pressed more firmly against my elbow, drawing my attention. His dark eyes swept over my face, noting every sign of exhaustion and strain.
"Elena," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the emotional scene before us. "We're leaving."
"Let's give them some space," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "They have to sort through."
I nodded, allowing him to guide me toward the door. His hand at my back was warm and steady, and I was grateful for the support as exhaustion began to seep into my bones. The emotional whiplash of the evening had left me drained.
But just as we reached the entrance to the drawing room, I stopped abruptly. "Wait—the photos!"
Sebastian paused, looking down at me with raised eyebrows.
"Nicholas promised to show me your childhood pictures," I explained, glancing back into the room. Nicholas and Rose had already disappeared from view. "That's why we came in the first place, remember?"
He sighed, but I caught the faint amusement in his eyes. He turned to the butler who had been hovering uncertainly nearby. "Do you know about some photo albums Nicholas mentioned?"
The butler's face lit up with visible relief at finally having a clear task amidst the chaos. "Oh yes, sir! Master Nicholas specifically instructed me about them earlier. He said Mrs Vane might want to see the albums."
"I'll fetch them immediately," he added, clearly grateful for something constructive to do, and hurried off with renewed purpose.
The butler disappeared and returned within moments, carrying several leather-bound photo albums. I settled onto a nearby sofa, Sebastian reluctantly sitting beside me as I opened the first one.
"Oh my god," I breathed, immediately finding what I was looking for. "You were so chubby!"
There he was—little Sebastian, perhaps three or four years old, with the roundest cheeks I'd ever seen and the same intense dark eyes, though they looked almost comically serious on such a cherubic face.