The car slowed to a stop in front of a tall glass building overlooking the lights of Monaco.
Even at night, the place was alive. Lights reflected on the water, yachts sitting quietly like they belonged there, like everything here just… made sense.
I didn't care.
"Out," Sebastian said.
Just like that.
I stepped out, the cool air brushing against my bare back. My dress shifted slightly as I moved, the red standing out against everything around me. The necklace rested against my collarbone, catching the light every now and then.
If I was going to stand beside him, I wasn't going to look weak.
We walked inside in silence. No one stopped us. No one questioned him. It was like everything just moved for him without him asking.
Of course it did.
The elevator ride was quiet.
Too quiet.
I stood on one side, he stood on the other. I didn't look at him, but I could feel him there. Not doing anything. Just… there.
And somehow, that was worse.
The doors opened straight into the penthouse.
And for a second, I just stood there.
Everything was black.
Not in a dull way.
In a way that looked… intentional.
The walls, the furniture, even the lighting felt controlled. Soft gold lights traced the edges of the room, making everything look sharp but calm at the same time. The windows stretched wide, showing the sea, dark and endless.
It was beautiful.
But it didn't feel warm.
It felt… controlled.
Like nothing in here happened by accident.
I walked in slowly, my heels quiet against the floor as I looked around. There was a piano by the window. Sculptures placed like someone had measured where they should be. A bar to the side, everything arranged too neatly.
Nothing felt lived in.
"This is where you live?" I asked.
"No."
I turned slightly.
"This is where I stay."
That made more sense.
This place didn't feel like somewhere you lived.
It felt like somewhere you kept things.
Or watched things.
My eyes moved down the hallway, landing on a door that wasn't fully closed. I don't know why I looked. I just did.
His room.
It looked exactly like the rest of the house.
Dark.
Clean.
Too perfect.
The bed was neatly made, not a single crease. A watch sat on a glass table like it had been placed there on purpose. His wardrobe was slightly open, showing rows of suits. Black. Grey. White.
Nothing else. No color.
No personality.
"You're staring."
His voice came from behind me.
I didn't turn.
"You live like a ghost," I said.
There was a pause.
Then I heard his steps. Slow. Calm. Coming closer.
"Do I?"
He stopped behind me.
Not touching.
Just close enough to make me aware of him.
I hated that.
"If you're trying to impress me," I added, "it's not working."
Silence.
"I'm not trying to impress you," he said.
Something about that made my chest tighten, and I immediately pushed the feeling away.
"Good," I replied. "Because I'm not impressed."
Another pause.
Then he walked past me, not touching me, but close enough that I noticed. Of course I did.
He went to the bar and poured himself a drink like I wasn't even there.
Like I didn't matter.
And for some reason… that annoyed me more.
I turned to look at him.
Everything about him looked put together without trying. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled just enough. His watch sat perfectly on his wrist. Even the way he held the glass looked intentional.
Nothing about him was careless.
Not even the silence.
"What now?" I asked.
"We wait," he said.
"For what?"
This time, he turned.
His eyes met mine, steady, unreadable, like he already knew something I didn't.
"For you to realize something."
My fingers curled slightly.
"And what is that?"
He stepped closer.
Just one step.
But it felt like more.
"You're not here because of your father."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
He didn't look away.
"If you still think that," he said, "then you haven't been paying attention."
I frowned.
"Then explain it."
He looked at me for a moment. Not confused. Not annoyed.
Just… sure.
"I don't need to," he said.
That irritated me instantly.
"You dragged me into this and now you're speaking in riddles?"
"You weren't dragged."
I let out a short laugh.
"Is that what you tell yourself?"
"No," he said calmly. "That's what you signed."
My chest tightened.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means everything."
The way he said it made it worse. Like it wasn't even up for debate.
Like this was already decided.
"You're wrong," I said.
"Am I?"
He didn't sound defensive.
That bothered me more than if he did.
We stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other.
Then he turned away like the conversation was over.
"Get some rest," he said. "We leave early."
Just like that.
Like nothing he said mattered.
Like it didn't just change everything.
I stayed where I was, my thoughts running in circles.
If this wasn't about my father…
Then what was it about?
And why did it feel like I was the only one who didn't know?
I stayed where I was, my thoughts running in circles.
If this wasn't about my father…
Then what was it about?
And why did it feel like I was the only one who didn't know?
A quiet sound broke the silence.
Click.
I frowned slightly and turned toward the hallway.
"What was that?"
No response.
Sebastian hadn't moved from where he stood by the window.
Another sound. Softer this time.
Coming from his room.
My chest tightened.
Slowly, I walked toward the door I had noticed earlier. It was still slightly open. Just enough.
I hesitated for a second.
Then pushed it.
The door creaked open quietly.
The room was exactly how I had seen it before.
Perfect.
Untouched.
My eyes moved around slowly… until they stopped.
On the wall.
My breath caught.
Pictures.
Not random ones.
Not decorations.
They were all of me.
Different moments.
Different places.
Some I remembered.
Some I didn't.
My chest tightened painfully.
"How…"
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
One photo stood at the center. Larger than the rest.
I stepped closer.
It was from weeks ago.
I was outside my apartment.
Looking around.
Careful.
Alert.
Like I knew something was wrong.
Like I felt it.
A cold realization settled in my stomach.
He didn't just know me.
He had been watching me.
For a long time.
"Now you're starting to understand."
His voice came from behind me.
Close.
Too close.
I froze.
"How long…" I whispered, my eyes still fixed on the wall.
A pause.
Then, calmly…
"Long before your father ever got involved."
My heart dropped.
This was never about my father.
It never was.