Sebastian’s pov
I sat by my mother’s hospital bed, the antiseptic stench of the room clinging to my clothes like guilt.
The pond’s damp chill still lived in my bones--or maybe it was just the mory of her soaked dress, the way her hand trembled even in sleep.
She’d survived. Barely. She was stable now.
But the fear hadn’t left my chest. Not entirely.
Beta Sawyer’s voice ca over the mind-link, cutting through the static in my head *Cecilia just called,*
My shoulders dropped as I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The edges of my exhaustion retracted, just enough for relief to slip in.
Cecilia. Ho. Unhard.
A grim, quiet acknowledgnt settled over . Tang had done what I couldn’t last night. Because I wasn’t there.
"Sebastian, sweetheart..."
The voice behind was barely more than air. I turned fast.
My mother was trying to sit up--frail, pale, and bruised like a porcelain doll that had lost a fight with gravity.
We’d stayed with her all night.
The pond nearly turned from aesthetic feature to obituary headline, thanks to the weight of her dress and a ss of underwater vines.
Earlier, a nurse had whispered, "She’s been having nightmares. Shock-hallucinations, maybe. We’ve given her sothing to help her rest. But she needs family. "So we stayed--my father and I, pacing and praying.
"I’m here," I said gently, stepping forward.
She blinked up at , her face softening like spring soil after the thaw.
"I wouldn’t have made it out last night if it weren’t for this kind young woman," she murmured, eyes glassing over. "Beautiful soul. Generous heart. You have to help thank her when you co ho."
My father leaned in, voice rising like a congressman mid-reelection speech.
"We’ll send her a thank-you gift basket or sothing. What’s her na, Regina?"
"I don’t know," Mom snapped, waving him off. "Ask our son! I want Sebastian to co with ."
"I’ve barely slept," I muttered. "And I’ve got a flight in an hour. Maybe table this until I’m back?"
She ignored the suggestion entirely.
"You could just invite her to dinner," she said innocently--too innocently.
"One of those casual thank-you things. Homade food. Candles. No pressure."
I blinked.
"I think," I said coolly, "you should focus on healing. We can express our gratitude properly once you’re recovered."
Her mouth dropped open like I’d kicked a kitten in front of her.
My dad shot that classic ’I didn’t raise you to be this emotionally constipated’ glare.
Before either could wind up a guilt-trip speech, I cut in.
"Any visitors show up," I said, turning toward the nurse, "you send them away. No exceptions."
I glanced at my watch.
Planes, unlike family drama, ran on schedules.
"She’ll be fine," I told them, nodding toward the nurse. "I’ve already had my siblings rearrange their calendars. You’ll be babysat so hard you’ll beg for solitude."
My mom huffed. My dad grumbled.
I slipped out before either could launch into Act II of the parental performance.
In the corridor, I spotted Tang half-asleep in the lounge chair, slouched like a Labrador who’d just been told it was Monday again.
I kicked his boot. "Up. Now."
He jerked awake.
Sawyer was already ahead, marching like a man who’d trademarked grim determination.
The three of us loaded into the SUV without a word.
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and pressed my fingers against my brow.
Then I dialed Cecilia.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Boss," she said in that maddeningly professional tone. "Instructions?"
I opened my eyes.
Sothing about her voice was too smooth. Like polished glass hiding a crack.
"Go to the penthouse," I said quietly. "I’ll be there soon."
"Understood."
She didn’t hang up. But she didn’t say anything else either.
"Cece?" I asked.
She cut off with surgical sweetness.
"Well, it sounds like you’re safe and settled, Alpha. I’ll let you go."
Click.
Hung up like I’d just been pitched a tishare in the middle of a crisis call.
I stared down at the phone like it might give a do-over option.
Like maybe, if I pressed hard enough, the universe would roll back ten hours and let choose differently.
That tone. That edge.
She was furious.
And I couldn’t even bla her.
"Last night... when you brought them back," I said suddenly, eyes fixed on Tang. "Did she say anything?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting like a kid caught sneaking a cigarette behind the gym.
"Uhh... not really? She thanked . Politely!"
"Politely."
Goddamn it. That’s worse.
"Yeah," he said, too brightly. "She was really calm, actually. Said I handled things well..."
I wasn’t buying it.
Sawyer leaned over from the passenger seat and swiped Tang’s phone like an annoyed older brother.
"He’s lying. Spent half the ride hyperventilating. Tell the truth."
Tang groaned and slouched in his seat like a teenager cornered by both parents at once.
"Okay, fine. I didn’t find them. By the ti I got back, they’d already left. I just assud they got ho safe on their own. I sent her a bunch of apology texts. She forgave ! I swear!"
He fumbled with his phone, then thrust the screen toward .
I didn’t read the ssages.
Just one glance at the ti stamp--and my stomach dropped.
That ti.
That exact minute.
I pulled out my own phone, hands suddenly clammy, and opened my call log.
There it was.
My mother’s call.
The pond incident.
Sa minute.
Sa second.
Two ergencies. One second. A fork in the road.
Cecilia’s pov
I’d just made it upstairs when Liam t at the elevator with his usual worried eyes and a napkin-wrapped scone.
"Did you eat already?"
"I’m fine. Thanks," I said, mustering the kind of polite tone you reserve for overly attentive baristas when your world’s on fire.
He hovered like he wanted to say more, but wisely didn’t.
Muffin, the world’s neediest cat, sauntered over and let out a dramatic yowl.
"Hey, you," I murmured, crouching to scratch under her chin. "At least soone missed ."
She headbutted my palm and purred like an old tractor on a frosty morning--loud, rattling, and absolutely certain of her place in the universe.
Pure, unconditional affection.
Unlike so emotionally constipated Alpha I could ntion.
I was still kneeling on the floor, a feather toy in one hand, when I heard the heavy footsteps behind .
Of course.
I didn’t need to turn to know.
But I did.
Sebastian.
Sa unreadable eyes.
Sa perfectly pressed button-down.
Sa gravitational pull I hated myself for orbiting.
"I need a word," he said softly, stepping closer like he thought proximity might soften the blow.
"Boss," I replied, smiling like a polite glass of iced tea--cool, sweet, and laced with just enough bite to make your throat burn.
"You’ve got a plane to catch in an hour. Maybe get a shower and a clean shirt first?"
His jaw ticked.
I knew that look.
He wanted to talk. To explain.
Too late.
Because I’d offered him my vulnerability once.
And last night, he’d handed it back like a party invitation he never intended to RSVP.
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