Chapter 280: Stealing Her Dirty Sex Tape
Chapter 280: Stealing Her Dirty Sex Tape
Seraphina's POV
The family doc finished checking Victoria over, face all business as he stashed his stethoscope. “Mrs. Whitmore’s gonna pull through,” he said, voice steady. “Just a panic attack, stress-induced. She needs rest and maybe a shrink to unpack... whatever the hell’s been eating at her lately.”
Mr. Whitmore nodded, relief flooding his worn-out face, though rage still simmered in his eyes.
Leander stepped forward, voice hard as iron. “Mr. Whitmore, about the fifty million. I swear on my life, we’ll get every goddamn penny back for your family.”
Mr. Whitmore gripped Leander’s hand, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he rasped, voice barely a whisper.
Leander turned to Charlotte, who hovered near her mom, mascara streaking down her face like a goddamn tragedy mask. “Charlotte, what horseshit excuse did you feed Dorian to hand over that money?”
She stared at the floor, looking more like a scolded brat than the vicious bitch who’d tried to claw my eyes out earlier. “It was a loan,” she mumbled. “I signed a contract.”
Leander gave a curt nod. “Good. That makes it easier. My lawyers will rip that shit to shreds.”
As we left the Whitmore estate, I couldn’t shake a tiny sliver of pity for Charlotte. Sure, she’s a manipulative witch who’d love to bury me six feet under, but Dorian? That fucker’s a whole other breed of evil.
In the car, Leander let out a heavy sigh, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Dorian’s a predator. Blackmailing women with sex tapes? That’s low, even for his sorry ass.”
I stared out the window, mind racing like a goddamn NASCAR track. “If we’re gonna help the Whitmores get their money back, we need solid proof of Dorian’s blackmail,” I said.
“And how do we get that?” Leander shot back, skepticism dripping from every word.
I turned to him, determination burning. “I’m going back to Ravencroft Manor. I’ll dig for evidence there.”
“That’s too dangerous,” he snapped, grip tightening. “Dorian could—”
“He won’t suspect a damn thing,” I cut in, resting my hand over his. “I’ll say I want to visit Isolde’s room. Even a monster like him can fake empathy for a grieving mother if it suits his twisted game.”
Or at least pretend to give a shit if it gets him something, I thought, bitterness gnawing at me.
Leander’s jaw clenched, but he knew I wasn’t backing down. “Be careful, Sera. Promise me,” he growled, eyes searching mine.
“I promise. I’ve got this,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Trust me.”
---
That evening at the Kingsley family home, Helena had turned the east wing guest room into a baby freaking wonderland. “Look at all this for my future grandbabies!” she squealed, practically glowing as she dragged us through the space.
A stunning mahogany crib for each of my twins, tiny designer outfits, and plush toys filled the room.
“Mom, we don’t even know the genders yet,” Leander teased, though his grin screamed excitement.
Helena waved him off. “That’s why I stuck to neutral colors. I’m ready for anything!” She grabbed my hands, beaming. “I know you’ve been swamped with... everything. So, I’ve arranged your wedding. Two weeks from now.”
My eyes damn near popped out. “Two weeks?”
She winked. “I started planning the second I knew you were pregnant with twins, darling.”
I nodded, emotion choking me. Despite the chaos, this felt right—like family.
The next morning, our engagement blew up across every damn news outlet in Apex. “KINGSLEY AND CALLOWAY: POWER COUPLE TO WED” blared one headline. “LOVE CONQUERS ALL: SERAPHINA CALLOWAY’S SECOND CHANCE” screamed another. My phone buzzed nonstop with congrats from people I hadn’t spoken to in years. #KingsleyCalloway trended like wildfire.
It’s weird, I thought, scrolling through the chaos. Marrying Dorian felt like a cold-ass business deal. This? This feels like... life.
I took a deep breath and dialed the call I’d been dreading. “Dorian, it’s Seraphina. I want to visit the manor today. I need to see Isolde’s room.”
His voice slithered through, icy and impatient. “Still clinging to Ravencroft delusions, Seraphina? Does Leander know you’re sniffing around?”
I kept my tone even, though my knuckles whitened around the phone. “Isolde was our daughter, Dorian. I just want to spend time in her space. Remember her.”
A long, tense pause. “Fine. I’ll be home this afternoon.”
---
Ravencroft Manor loomed like a goddamn crypt as I stepped through its entrance. Dorian greeted me with a sneer barely masked by fake civility. “How touching. The grieving mother returns,” he mocked, eyes narrowing. “Thought you’d be too busy planning your fairy tale wedding.”
I ignored the jab, though it stung like a bitch. I once thought we’d grow old here. What a naive idiot I was.
“I’ll never stop being Isolde’s mother, Dorian. No matter what shit goes down between us.”
He trailed me like a damn shadow as I moved through the house, stopping at Isolde’s bedroom. Her tiny bed, her stuffed animals untouched, hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
“When you have your new brats, you’ll forget her,” Dorian spat, venom dripping. “That’s how it works, right? Out with the old, in with the shiny new toys.”
I spun on him, fury blazing. “Isolde will always be our daughter. Nothing and no one replaces her, you heartless bastard.”
His phone rang, cutting off whatever vile comeback he had. “I’ve gotta take this,” he muttered, stepping out.
The second his footsteps faded, I darted to the bathroom as a feint, then doubled back to his office, slipping inside and locking the door. His computer sat on that monstrous desk, and I dove into his files, heart pounding.
I found it—a folder that stuck out like a sore thumb, not labeled like the usual business bullshit. I clicked it open, and my stomach churned. It was a video of Charlotte, unmistakably her. This sick fuck. I copied the file to my flash drive in a frantic rush, then deleted it from his drive to cover my tracks, hands shaking the whole damn time.
Just as I thought I was done, I noticed another video file in the same folder. I clicked it—and instantly wished I hadn’t. It was Dorian and Belladonna, going at it like wild animals. My jaw dropped, and in my shock, I accidentally cranked the volume up. Her moans blasted through the speakers. I damn near had a heart attack, fumbling to shut it off, my pulse hammering in my ears as I prayed no one heard that shit.
A sudden knock at the door made me freeze. “Mr. Ravencroft? Are you in there?” a maid called.
I held my breath, not daring to make a sound. After an agonizing eternity, her footsteps retreated. I exhaled, shaky as hell, and moved to leave—until my eye caught the desk drawer, slightly ajar. Inside was a photo of Isolde, edges worn and whitened from touch. This sick bastard. Only cherishes her after she’s gone. What a twisted piece of shit.
I slipped out, returning to the living room, pulse still hammering. Dorian reappeared, suspicion etched on his face. “You were gone a while.”
“I was in Isolde’s room,” I lied, forcing my voice steady. “Just... remembering.”
Don’t flinch. Don’t look guilty. Just get the hell out.
“Time to go,” he said coldly. “You don’t belong here anymore.”
I nodded, grabbing my purse. “Goodbye, Dorian.”