Chapter 269: Pregnant Darling Stuck in Shocking Fire Trap!

Chapter 269: Pregnant Darling Stuck in Shocking Fire Trap!
Leander's POV

Victoria dragged me through the villa’s over-the-top golf facilities, yammering on about investment bullshit and family ties. I barely listened, my mind stuck on Seraphina alone with Charlotte. That venomous bitch nearly killed our babies, and now I’m supposed to buy her sudden “change of heart”? Hell no, not in a million years.

I cut Victoria’s pitch short, my patience gone. “Looks great, Victoria, but I need to get back to Seraphina.”

Her hand grazed my arm. “Leander, darling, give them a moment. Women need time to work through these things. Charlotte is genuinely remorseful.”

“Yeah, I bet she is,” I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not buying it.”

I navigated the villa, finding Seraphina alone in the lounge, turning a small gift box in her hands with a puzzled look. “Hey,” I said softly, dropping beside her on the plush couch, scanning her face for any hint of distress. “Did the Ice Queen play nice?”

Seraphina’s lips twitched into a dry smirk. “Oh, she was the poster child for regret. Practically on her knees begging forgiveness.” She mimicked Charlotte’s voice with creepy precision: “‘I hope we can start fresh this weekend. For Leander’s sake.’”

She laid out Charlotte’s Oscar-worthy act—the tearful apology, the gift, the sob story about watching me “obsess over someone else,” and the snobby “our world” jab. My jaw clenched tighter with every word. When she finished, a cold laugh slipped out. “Classic Charlotte. She’s been faking it since we were kids. Victoria clearly coached her ass. That’s why she dragged me off—to give Charlotte time to run her pathetic script.”

Seraphina leaned into me, her warmth grounding. “You don’t think she’s sincere? I’m shocked, utterly shocked,” she deadpanned.

“I know you’re not dumb, Sera. Charlotte doesn’t have a sincere bone in her damn body.” I traced circles on her palm. “She’s been groomed to see relationships as mergers. The Whitmores have been salivating over a Kingsley alliance for generations.”

“Must suck for her,” Seraphina mused, “watching her perfect little plan go up in flames.”

My voice turned to steel. “The Whitmores are desperate. They think if you swallow Charlotte’s apology, I’ll forget she nearly murdered our child. They don’t know me for shit.” 

“So, what’s our move?” she asked, eyes steady.

“We play their game, but better. String ‘em along.” I nodded at the box. “What’s in there anyway?”

She opened it, revealing emerald earrings. “Her version of ‘Sorry I tried to kill your babies.’”

I set the box on the coffee table with a scoff. “Let them think their plan’s working. We’ll see how far this fake-ass remorse really goes.”

Right on cue, Charlotte glided in, her face a mask of humble bullshit. “There you are! I was just coming to invite you both to a barbecue on the terrace. The view’s stunning at this hour.”

I ignored her, looking only at Seraphina. “You up for it?”

Her eyes met mine, a silent agreement passing between us. “Sure, why not? I’m hungry.”

Charlotte’s smile tightened just enough to notice. “Wonderful! Everything’s nearly ready.” She turned to me, voice sickly sweet. “Leander, I hope you’re not still mad. I’m truly sorry for my behavior.”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response, focusing on Seraphina as I stood and offered my hand. “Let’s go, babe.”

The barbecue was a goddamn circus of forced politeness. Victoria played the flawless hostess, Charlotte the repentant saint. The terrace overlooked the hot springs, steam curling into the cool night air, mountains looming dramatically behind. I kept Seraphina close, my hand on her lower back or knee, a silent fuck-you to Charlotte’s barely hidden jealousy.

“Seraphina, Leander says you’re quite the baker,” Victoria cooed, passing grilled veggies. “You must share your secrets sometime.”

Seraphina smiled, polite but sharp. “Happy to. Though I doubt my kitchen compares to the industrial setup you’ve got here.”

“Oh, we keep it modest,” Victoria lied through her teeth. I’d seen their kitchen—it could double as a damn restaurant.

“Mother loves entertaining,” Charlotte added, voice dripping with honey. “Our Christmas gala at the main house is legendary.”

Post-dinner, Victoria suggested night golf on their private course. “The grounds are lit beautifully. It’s magical.”

I’d played this course a hundred times growing up, but tonight felt like stepping into a gilded trap. Seraphina shocked everyone with her skill, her drives long and dead-on. 

“My goodness,” Victoria gasped as Seraphina sank a tough putt. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

“Yale had a decent course,” Seraphina replied casually. “I had time between classes.”

Charlotte’s smile froze. “I didn’t know you played at university. You’re full of surprises.”

“You have no idea,” I said, pulling Seraphina close with a possessive arm around her waist.

The night dragged on with their over-the-top flattery, while we kept up a wary, polite front. By the time we got back to our suite, I was bone-tired—not physically, but from the soul-sucking insincerity of it all.

Seraphina flopped onto the bed, kicking off her shoes. “Jesus Christ, I need a shower after all that fake-ass niceness. I feel contaminated.”

I laughed, loosening my tie. “Welcome to high society, babe. Where everyone loves you to your face and stabs you in the back before dessert.”

“How the hell did you survive growing up with these people?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.

I sat beside her, raking a hand through my hair. “I didn’t, not really.” I kissed her forehead. “Get some rest. I’ve got emails to check before bed.”

Later, after Seraphina drifted off, I sat in the suite’s lounge area, laptop open but mind elsewhere. Something about the Whitmores’ act stank. Victoria was too accommodating, Charlotte too submissive. They were scheming something bigger than a fake reconciliation.

Just past midnight, I caught it—soft footsteps in the hallway. Not normal guest or staff steps, but the cautious tread of someone sneaking. I shut my laptop quietly and crept to the door, listening. The steps paused outside, then moved on. Suspicion gnawed at me. I glanced back at Seraphina sleeping, torn.

I cracked the door open, peering into the dim corridor. A figure vanished around the corner. I stepped out, moving silently after them. I hadn’t gone far when a piercing alarm shattered the silence—the smoke detector. Then I smelled it, the sharp bite of something burning. My blood ran cold as I spun around, scanning the hall. Smoke was seeping from under our suite door.

“Sera!” I roared, sprinting back. I grabbed the handle, but it was scorching hot. I yanked my hand back, heart pounding. The door wouldn’t budge—locked tight. I slammed my fist against it, desperation clawing at me. “Sera, you in there?”

“Leander!” Her voice came through, panicked and raw. “The door won’t open! I can’t get out!”