Sebastian sat slumped in the corner of his study, the whiskey bottle clutched loosely in his hand.
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Three weeks post-surgery, and he was supposed to be resting. The doctor had said it would take time. Time he didn't have. Time he had no intention of waiting for.
His chest felt tight. Not from pain, but from thought. From anger. From jealousy. From a strange, unfamiliar warmth.
He drained the rest of the bottle in one long pull and tossed it onto the floor. It rolled across the marble, bumping into the leg of the desk.
The sound startled him.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands over his face. His mind kept replaying that day—Lillian storming out of Sovereign, her last words ringing in his ears: "I don't care about you anymore."
He didn't. He didn't care.
Except he did.
The thought made his jaw clench so hard it hurt.
He stood abruptly, the movement sending a sharp twinge down his back.
Damn it.
He needed air. Needed to do something—anything.
He grabbed his coat, shoved his feet into boots, and limped toward the door. The mansion was eerily still. The halls were empty, quiet as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
He walked to the garage, ignoring the bottles on the counter. He got into his car and started the engine, letting the hum of the motor soothe him slightly.
A drive might clear his head. A drive might make him feel something other than the burning knot in his chest.
He drove without direction, the city streets blurring past him. His eyes, sharp and alert even through the haze of whiskey, caught movement on the sidewalk.
And then he froze.
There she was.
Lillian.
Sitting at a small café table across the street.
And sitting opposite her… Ethan.
Sebastian's chest tightened painfully. His stomach roiled.
The man who had cheated on her, the one who had hurt her before.
And yet Lillian was smiling politely, leaning slightly forward, calmly shutting him down. Her gestures were firm but graceful, almost imperceptibly cold.
Sebastian blinked, trying to process. He wanted to storm across the street. Wanted to shove Ethan away. Wanted to grab Lillian and tell her he was the only one who should be near her.
But… he was still recovering. His back ached with every heartbeat. His hands shook slightly from the whiskey.
So he stayed in the car.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.
"Don't… don't move, don't speak…" he muttered under his breath.
Ethan leaned forward, speaking animatedly. Lillian shook her head, waving her hand slightly.
"No," she said softly but firmly. "I'm done with this conversation."
Sebastian's chest tightened further. He could see every movement, every inflection. He knew she wasn't interested. She was shutting Ethan out. And yet… seeing him with her, hearing Ethan's smirk and laughter… it felt like a punch to his gut.
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
"I should… I should—."
The thought of driving over, confronting Ethan, yelling, maybe even touching her… he stopped. He couldn't. Not like this.
His back throbbed, his head swam.
So he stayed in the car, silently watching, silently burning.
Lillian stood, finished with her coffee. Ethan tried to protest, but she shook her head.
"I said no, Ethan. You need to leave."
Ethan's lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at her one last time and walked away.
Sebastian exhaled a shaky breath. Relief and frustration mixed in his chest.
She was fine. She had handled him. But he… he was furious. Jealous. Humiliated. Hurt.
She didn't know he'd seen her. She had no idea he was burning from the sight of her. And maybe that made it worse.
Lillian walked toward the street, her bag on her shoulder. She didn't see him. Didn't see the way his eyes followed her every step.
"Damn it," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel again.
He wanted to call her. To tell her… something.
But he didn't. He couldn't. Pride, anger, frustration… every part of him screamed not to.
So he drove.
The city passed in a blur. Every red light felt like a pause he didn't want. Every stop sign an insult.
By the time he returned to the mansion, darkness had fallen. The quiet of the house greeted him like a cold welcome.
He staggered to the study and sank into his chair. His head rested against the back, eyes closed.
The whiskey haze had dulled some of the edges, but the tight warmth in his chest remained.
Lillian.
Her smile. Her calm. Her firmness with Ethan. The way she had shut the man down like he was nothing.
And she was hers in a way he couldn't have. She didn't even know he'd seen her.
He pressed his hands against his eyes.
"I can't… I can't lose her," he whispered.
The phone on the desk buzzed. He glanced at it automatically. A message from an unknown number popped up.
It was Chloe.
Chloe:
Did you see him?
He frowned, didn't reply. Not now. Not like this.
Chloe:
Lillian's safe. Don't worry.
Why is she messaging me?
He ignored it. Every word burned in him. He wasn't worried about Lillian's safety. He was worried about Ethan, about himself, about what he was feeling.
The whiskey bottle sat on the desk. He picked it up, took another swig, and shoved it back down.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, mind racing.
She's firm. She's strong. She doesn't need me.
She should need me.
She should want me.
The thought made his chest ache in a way that was almost physical. Almost unbearable.
He slammed his fist against the desk.
"Why does she make me feel like this?!" he shouted into the empty study.
No answer came.
The walls remained silent. The mansion remained cold.
And yet, in that silence, Sebastian felt it clearly:
He had seen her. And she had been with another man.
And the thought of losing her… even if only for a moment… was unbearable.
He sank further into the chair, hands gripping the armrests tightly.
Lillian had no idea.
And maybe that was the only thing keeping her safe.
For now.