chapter 171

chapter 171
Sebastian's POV:
The question hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop.
Victoria's gentle inquiry about Elena's mother had frozen my wife completely, her fingers still resting on the wedding photograph.
I watched her grip on the album tighten until her knuckles went white. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken history, until finally Elena drew in a shaky breath and began to speak.
"My father and my mother Scarlett..." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "They were happy once. After their wedding, there was a time when everything seemed perfect." A bitter smile touched her lips. "Then she staged her own death and ran off to America with another man."
Victoria's teacup rattled against its saucer as she set it down too quickly. Her perfectly composed features shifted through a range of emotions—shock, disbelief.
"Then, Robert remarried because of some complex reason," Elena continued, each word seeming to cost her. "To Rebecca Sterling. Both dead. "
"And Scarlett... she's back now. In a hospital here in St. Valen."
"That woman has the audacity to return?" Victoria's voice carried a sharp edge I rarely heard from her. "After what she did to her family?"
I placed my hand over Elena's trembling fingers. "She disappeared fifteen years ago, and now she's dying of leukemia. She came back because she needs Elena's bone marrow."
"She wants her pregnant daughter to donate bone marrow?" Victoria's composure was shattered completely, her voice rising with each word. "That selfish, unconscionable creature abandons her child, and then crawls back expecting Elena to risk herself and her baby?"
The fury in Mr.Hartwell's eyes was magnificent to behold. He gripped his cane so tightly I thought the ivory handle might crack.
I watched Elena's eyes fill with tears—not of sadness, but of something else entirely. Here were people who barely knew her, yet they rose to her defense with such fierce protectiveness.
A tremulous smile crossed her lips as she struggled to compose herself.
"Please don't worry about it," she managed, her voice steadier than I expected. "I've already cut all ties with her. What's done is done."
She glanced at her nominal grandfather, taking in his silver hair and the obvious fatigue etched into his weathered features.
Her voice softened with genuine concern.
"You must be exhausted after such a long journey," she said gently. "Please, stay here tonight. We have plenty of guest rooms, and we'll have plenty of time to talk in the days ahead ."
Victoria glanced at her father, considering the offer. The anger in her eyes softened slightly as she looked back at Elena. "If you're certain it's no imposition..."
"We're family," Elena said simply, and I saw something shift in Victoria's expression—a vulnerability quickly masked. "There's no such thing as imposing."
"Then we accept, with gratitude." Victoria's voice carried a warmth that hadn't been there moments before. "Thank you, my dear."
I helped Mr. Hartwell to his feet, noting how heavily he leaned on his cane. The evening's revelations had clearly taken their toll. As we made our way upstairs, I caught Victoria glancing back at Elena with an expression I couldn't quite read.
Later, after ensuring the elderly gentleman was settled in his room, I returned to find Elena already in bed, her breathing deep and even.
The day had exhausted her completely. I was just pulling off my tie when Marcus appeared at the door, his face grave.
"Sir, Lady Victoria left the manor just now. Alone. "
A cold dread settled in my stomach. "Where?"
"It seems the direction of St. Mary's Hospital, sir. "
My blood turned to ice. I knew exactly what that meant—Victoria had gone to confront Scarlett herself. "Watch Elena. Don't let her leave this room."
Marcus nodded grimly. "Understood, sir."
I grabbed my keys and headed for the garage, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios. The Aston Martin roared to life, and I peeled out of the driveway, pushing the car to its limits through the empty streets.
I was halfway to the hospital when my phone rang. Unknown number. My jaw clenched as I answered through the car's bluetooth.
"Mr. Vane." The voice was rough, desperate—John Smith. "You have something I want. And now I have something you want."
"Elena's aunt? You know, it's funny how fate works. Just when I was at my lowest, this woman showed up at the hospital. Like a gift from heaven, really."
In the background, I heard Victoria's voice, sharp with indignation: "You pathetic creature—"
"Shut up!" The sound of a struggle, a gasp of pain. Her voice cut off.
"If you harm her—"
"Here's how this works," John interrupted, breathing heavily. "Your pregnant wife for the lady. Fair trade, wouldn't you say?"
"You're dreaming." My voice was deadly calm even as I pressed harder on the accelerator.
"When Elena finds out you let her aunt die because you refused to cooperate... do you really think she'll forgive you? " A pause, letting the poison sink in. "You have one hour."
The line went dead. I threw the phone aside and took the next turn so sharply the tires screamed.
Ten minutes later, I arrived at St. Mary's Hospital.
I moved through the hospital like a hunting predator, following the scent of fear and desperation. It led me to the oncology ward's family waiting area—and there they were. Two of John's hired muscle flanked the doorway, trying to look casual and failing miserably.
I didn't slow down. The first guard barely had time to register my approach before my fist connected with his jaw. He dropped like a stone.
The second managed to reach for something in his jacket, but I grabbed his wrist, twisted until I heard the satisfying crack of bone, and drove my knee into his solar plexus. He crumpled beside his partner.
Inside, I found them. Victoria sat rigidly in a chair, John Smith's knife pressed to her throat. Ethan Smith stood nearby, his pretty-boy face pale with fear. And in the corner, Mia Smith cowered, tears streaming down her face.
"Sebastian!" Ethan started forward. "This isn't—"
I crossed the room in three strides, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the wall so hard the plaster cracked. His head bounced off the surface with a wet thud.
John's eyes went wide with shock, clearly not expecting such immediate violence. His hand holding the knife trembled slightly as he watched his son's blood streak down the wall.
"Wait—what are you—"
"Simple choice, John," I said conversationally, tightening my grip on Ethan's throat. "Release her now, or watch me turn your boy into a vegetable. "
The knife pressed harder against Victoria's throat, drawing a thin line of blood. "You're insane! I'll kill her!"