chapter 41
Elena's POV:
The silence that followed my suggestion was so thick I could practically feel it pressing against my skin.
Vivienne's cheeks flushed crimson with indignation, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Behind her, Rebecca clearly hadn't expected me to say that—her expression freezing for a moment like a mask that had slipped before she forced herself to respond through gritted teeth.
"Of course, darling Elena," Rebecca said, her voice dripping with honey, "this is your home. Vivienne, go tidy up your room for your sister."
The word "sister" hung between us like a blade, and I watched Vivienne's eyes fill with something dangerously close to tears of rage.
Her fingers clutched at her mother's sleeve, a gesture so desperate it almost made me feel sorry for her.
"Mama," she whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief, "that's my room. You can't just—"
"Vivienne." Rebecca's tone carried the kind of authority that brooked no argument, the same voice she'd used to order me around for years, though now it was directed at her precious daughter. "Don't be difficult."
"Actually," Sebastian said, his voice cutting through the tension with surgical precision, "forget it."
For a moment, hope flickered across Vivienne's face like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She straightened slightly, her grip on Rebecca's arm loosening as she looked hopefully toward Sebastian.
And I turned back to look at Sebastian in confusion—did he also think I was being too unreasonable? Was there something about stepping into this house that made everyone mysteriously take Vivienne's side?
Sebastian was gazing in Vivienne's direction, his expression completely unreadable.
"I wouldn't want Elena staying in someone else's used room," Sebastian continued, his tone remaining conversational even as his words landed like physical blows.
His gaze swept over the Sterling mansion's opulent foyer with the kind of casual dismissal reserved for something distasteful. "Elena's been spoiled by cleaner accommodations," Sebastian continued, his tone remaining conversational even as his words landed like physical blows. "I'm afraid she can't stay anywhere... unclean."
The words hung in the air like smoke from an explosion.
Rebecca's face went through several interesting color changes, settling on a shade of gray that matched the Persian rug beneath our feet.
Vivienne's newly restored hope crumbled so completely I could almost hear the crash, her expression shifting from relief to mortification in the space of a heartbeat.
Sensing the atmosphere growing more unbearable by the second, I turned to Dad, my voice gentle. "Dad, I have some things to take care of this afternoon, so I won't be staying overnight."
The look of desperate disappointment on his face made my chest tight. "Dad, I... could we at least stay for lunch? You mentioned making something special."
Robert's face lit up with such genuine joy that I felt a stab of guilt for all the months I'd let him worry.
"Of course!" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Your favorite blueberry pancakes, and that salmon with lemon butter you always loved, and chocolate mousse for dessert—"
---
The dining room felt different with Sebastian in it.
The long mahogany table that had once seemed so grand now felt almost quaint under his presence, like a stage set that was slightly too small for the lead actor.
Dad had truly outdone himself—the table was set with all my favorite dishes, every one a memory from happier times.
But as we settled in to eat, Rebecca seemed unable to contain herself any longer, launching into an elaborate introduction of herself and her consulting firm to Sebastian, her voice dripping with calculated charm as she emphasized how she'd always looked after me like her own daughter since she was a child, and hinted that "we're all family now" and how she hoped they could "look after each other" in business matters.
I stared at her in amazement, stunned by the sheer audacity.
The first time I'd ever been acknowledged as "family" in this house, and it was only happening because she wanted something from the man sitting beside me.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Sebastian beat me to it, his voice smooth as silk.
"Of course," he said, his smile perfectly polite. "I'm a man who believes in reciprocity—repaying kindness with kindness, and... well, returning what I receive in equal measure. If you've truly taken such good care of Elena all these years as you suggest, then naturally I would be more than happy to return that care a hundredfold."
Rebecca's obsequious smile froze on her face, the calculated charm wavering as she caught the subtle edge in his tone.
After finishing most of my meal, I excused myself to go upstairs with Dad to retrieve my documents.
His movements were careful and quiet as he led me to his study, pulling out a manila envelope from his desk drawer with hands that trembled slightly.
When he handed me the papers, his eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, weighted with years of accumulated guilt.
"If your mother knew..." he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "she'd never forgive me for not taking better care of you."
I understood everything he couldn't bring himself to say aloud.
There had been years when I'd carried so much resentment—angry at him for being too weak to fight back, angry at my mother for being too decisive in leaving us. But somewhere along the way, I'd come to realize that everyone has their own path to walk. He couldn't live his life solely for me, just as my mother couldn't have stayed in a world that had become unbearable to her.
And I... I had my own road to travel, my own choices to make.
As I tucked the documents into my purse and turned to leave, Dad reached out and gently touched my arm.
"I can see that Sebastian... he treats you well," he said, his voice filled with a tentative hope. "I just want you to be happy, Elena. That's all I've ever wanted."
I managed to summon what I hoped looked like a genuine smile, my voice soft but steady. "I will be, Dad."
When we came back downstairs, Sebastian was already waiting by the door. He extended his hand to me with that familiar possessive gentleness, his fingers interlacing with mine as we stepped out into the afternoon light.
---
The drive to the registry office passed in comfortable quiet, the weight of the documents in my purse feeling both heavier and lighter than I'd expected.
As we pulled into the parking space outside the building, Sebastian turned to me, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"Are you ready?" he asked softly. "This time we're really going to get the marriage certificate."