Cecilia’s pov
A few minutes later, the words finally ca out.
"My mom... " I swallowed, trying to steady my voice.
"She doesn’t think we’re... a good match."
I forced a laugh, but it ca out hollow.
"She wants to quit my job. Cut ties. Walk away from this thing... from you."
Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to ntion the other option she’d offered.
His voice was quiet. "Do you want to break up with ?"
He wasn’t asking for reassurance. He was asking for the truth.
I didn’t answer right away. My silence wasn’t indecision—it was calculation.
I knew what I felt. I just didn’t know what to do with it.
He kissed , gently this ti, as if trying to anchor .
When I finally exhaled and relaxed in his arms, he murmured, "You’d miss . Wouldn’t you?"
I kept my eyes closed and nuzzled his jaw. "You’re unfairly good at this. Who could walk away from that?"
He smiled. He knew what he ant to , even if I hadn’t said it out loud.
Then he said, carefully, "If you can’t stand to lose , maybe it’s ti we make this permanent."
My lashes fluttered against his chest.
The word "permanent" hung in the air like a heavy weight.
I opened my eyes but avoided that word entirely. "My mom’s serious. So I thought... maybe we could handle it another way."
I watched his face closely.
He didn’t flinch or frown. His expression stayed perfectly neutral. Too neutral.
Sothing in tensed. My instincts whispered: this smile is too smooth. Too still.
"What if we pretended to break up?" I said, bracing for the explosion.
He blinked. Then shook his head, almost laughing.
"I don’t do secrets and shadows, Cece. That’s not ."
"I’m not talking about lying," I pushed back quickly. "Just being... strategic. It gives us ti. It gives them space. It’s temporary."
"So," he said slowly, "you don’t want to lose , but you also don’t want to stand beside publicly."
"Labels don’t matter. What we have is real. This is just optics."
He gave a long look. "That’s rich, coming from soone who once said she didn’t care what people thought."
I folded my arms. "Look, it’s either a fake breakup or a real one. You choose."
He inhaled sharply, and for a second, I saw it—that flicker of pain behind his eyes.
Then it was gone.
"Cece, you’re asking to compromise everything I believe in. You hate commitnt, and yet I still want a future with you. That’s the impossible part."
Even so, I knew I’d struck a chord.
Because if he were truly willing to let go, he wouldn’t be fighting this hard.
He studied again, this ti without smiling.
I looked away first.
"Let’s not discuss the future right now," I muttered. "Let’s just handle the present. The fake breakup is temporary. Don’t overthink it. We’re good, aren’t we?"
I ran a hand down his chest, tracing the muscle beneath his shirt.
"Cecilia... " he sighed. "Try to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously. Just not dramatically."
He walked over to the nightstand, picked up the ointnt tube, held it up to the light like it was evidence in a courtroom.
"This," he said, "is the only honest part of you."
My cheeks went up in flas.
In the end, we didn’t reach a decision.
But I had a feeling he’d co around.
When he ca back from washing his hands, he headed straight upstairs to finish what Liam was supposed to—dinner, now improvised thanks to the chaos.
He showed up about twenty minutes later with two plates. One was mine. The other just sat there, untouched.
I curled up in a dining chair, hunched over my plate like a squirrel who hadn’t eaten since last winter.
Sebastian watched for a bit. His expression eased up a little, but he stayed quiet.
Instead, he straightened his sleeves, fastened his cuffs, adjusted the collar of his blazer. The shift was subtle, but I knew what it ant. He was back in Alpha mode.
"You’re not eating?" I asked, glancing up at him between bites.
"Lost my appetite," he said quietly.
The words weren’t sharp, but they landed heavy.
He moved toward the door and grabbed his keys. "I need to head ho for a bit," he added. "Finish your dinner. Text if anything happens. And stay in. It’s getting dark."
"Okay," I said, forcing a too-cheerful smile. "Drive safe."
He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, turned, and left.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that felt way too loud.
I stared at it for a full minute before moving.
The room felt twice its size without him in it. Which was ridiculous. But it was true.
Author’s pov
Sebastian had received his father’s call earlier that afternoon.
"Co ho for dinner," he’d said. "We need to talk."
Business talk happened at the office. Dinner talk ant sothing personal. Which usually ant sothing problematic.
Probably the Whites.
Sebastian hadn’t told his father about Luna Dahlia’s ties to the Moonveil Ascendancy. But his father wasn’t blind.
When Sebastian stepped into the Black estate’s marble foyer, he heard it before he saw it.
Electronic gunfire. Pop music. Laughter.
Zaria was sprawled across the great hall’s velvet couch, ga controller in hand, headset over her ears, yelling at teammates in so battle royale match.
He lightly tapped her on the forehead. "Feet down."
"Sebas!" she yelped, tugging her headset off. "You’re back early!"
Then her expression shifted. She pulled him aside, whispering, "Mom’s gone full fairytale-mode. She’s fixated on that girl in the green dress. Like this is so Cinderella story and Denver’s her castle. Honestly, I think she’s planning to sweep the whole city, block by block."
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