Chapter 12
Sebastian
Her lips parted, trembling. “Sebastian, it’s not what it looks like, I promise.”
I let out a bitter laugh, dry and cold in the silence between us. “Oh really? It’s not what it looks like?”
My hand moved on instinct, sharp with fury. I tossed the phone to her, the pictures already pulled up, glowing like a damn crime scene in her face.
“Is that not you and Phillip holding each other? Again?”
The weight in my chest tightened like a steel vice, each breath burning.
“Olivia, I really wanted to believe you. To trust you. But that trust is gone now, and you don’t deserve mine.”
I was hurting so bad I was willing to say anything–burn bridges, burn her, burn myself–but even through the anger, my heart ached for this woman in ways I couldn’t even admit aloud. Fuck.
“I… I… I can explain. Just give me a chance to explain,” she begged, eyes wide with panic, mouth trembling with desperation.
I paused, gaze locked on her face like it could tell me a different story. I was ready to listen–at least for the pathetic excuse I knew she was about to fabricate.
“I… umm…so-”
But then her phone rang. The timing couldn’t have been worse if she scripted it herself. And I didn’t need anyone to tell me who it was–I already knew. The sound alone felt like a knife twisting inside my gut, cruel and precise.
“Turn it off,” I snapped.
The phone rang again, and this time I took it from her, fingers clenched too tight. Just as I expected–Philip.
Then a text came through.
*Thanks for the info, baby. Kaylee was able to get the folder, and I now know the bidding price.*
My stomach turned. My vision blurred with rage.
“I get it now. This was why you came to my office?” My voice dropped, dangerous. “You made me dinner just to get your hands on my project’s bidding price. I asked what you were after, and you had the nerve to say ‘nothing.“” My voice rose with every word, sharp and furious. “Olivia, I always knew you could stoop pretty low for that dumbass, but selling me out like that? That’s a whole new level of betrayal–even for you.”
The room felt like it was shrinking, my breath thick in my throat. Rage surged beneath my skin, but it was nothing–nothing–compared to the gut–wrenching betrayal pulsing through my chest.
Tears welled in her eyes. I saw them, and for a second–just a second–my chest tightened. But I forced myself to shut it out. Not after everything. Not after I’d bled myself dry for her and she left me to rot like I meant nothing.
Even if my heart stuttered, my face stayed cold. She didn’t deserve to see the war going on inside me.
“Sebastian, please, it’s not what you think.”
“And how would you know what I’m thinking?” I growled. “Do you read minds now too?”
“At least, let me explain!”
“Explain what?! That you stole confidential intel from one of the biggest real estate deals this city’s seen in a decade–and handed it straight to your boyfriend like a souvenir? Do you even realize what you’ve done? I think it’s pretty clear already.”
The words tasted like blood.
“You betrayed me.”
“Sebastian,” she whispered, voice low, eyes wet, breaking
But I wasn’t falling for this trick–not anymore. Taking her wrist, I headed upstairs.
“Seb, what are you doing?”
“Sebastian…”
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“Sebastian…W–what the heck are you doing?” Her voice was cracking now.
“I gave you the opportunity to leave me, to get the divorce you’ve always wanted. Now it’s my turn.” My voice dropped into something colder, darker.
“You. Belong. To. Me. Olivia.”
I walked towards one of the rooms upstairs. My grip tightened around her wrist, and she stumbled trying to keep up, fear clinging to her like perfume.
She was my wife—and she’d stay put until I said otherwise. I didn’t care if the world called it madness. Philip wouldn’t get another whisper of my company through her. If he didn’t have access to her, he had nothing. And I’d make damn sure of that.
And I didn’t care if she was in love with Philip. She would stay locked up until she started thinking straight.
“Sebastian, don’t do this, please!” Her voice cracked like thunder in a storm. She looked horrified—wide–eyed and trembling. What exactly did she think I planned on doing?
“You’re hurting my wrist, please stop, please!” she whimpered.
Every word from her mouth ripped at me like nails on skin. The effect she had on me—God, it was still too strong. I wanted to yield, to stop, to say something soft. But I couldn’t. I had to be strong. I had to.
“Please….” she kept crying, trying to pull away from me.
When we got to the door, she struggled harder to break free. This time, her sobs were louder, her resistance fiercer. Her eyes were so wide, so desperate, it nearly shattered me.
“Maybe this will keep you away from Phillip,” I said coldly.
“Don’t do this, Sebastian,” she breathed. Her voice was shaky, terrified—but there was a spark of defiance under all that panic. We stood outside the door, and I watched her unravel.
Why was she so hell–bent on not going into the room? But I already knew the answer to that question.
If only she could love me the way she loved Phillip—even just a little. If only.
I would prove to her that my love wasn’t just eternal–it was dark, possessive, all–consuming. Not the kind that faded with time. Mine would survive death, devour the afterlife, and still ache for her.
D
