Chapter 12 - Sebastian’s PromiseSebastian came back after midnight.
I was awake, watching the city lights through the hospital window, too tired to sleep and too angry to rest.
My parents had gone to the family waiting room after I begged them to lie down. Chloe was curled in a chair across from me, finally asleep under a thin blanket, her face pale and tear-streaked.
Sebastian knocked softly.
“You don’t sleep?” I asked.
“Not well lately.”
“That makes two of us.”
He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Outside, the hospital hummed with ordinary emergencies. Babies being born. Bones being set. Families waiting for answers. Lives changing under fluorescent lights while vending machines blinked patiently in corners.
“Agent Chen told me about the engagement file,” I said.
His expression tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you know?”
“Not until tonight.”
I believed him.
That surprised me.
Trust had become a dangerous thing, and yet somehow, in the wreckage of people I had loved, this stranger still felt like solid ground.
“She wrote that I would mistake rescue for love,” I said.
Sebastian’s jaw flexed.
“She understood manipulation. That doesn’t mean she understood you.”
I looked at him. “I did mistake it.”
“No,” he said. “You accepted kindness from someone who was performing it. That is not the same thing.”
The words pierced something tender.
I turned away before he could see my face.
“She picked Grant because he was weak.”
“Yes.”
“That’s humiliating.”
“It’s damning for him. Not you.”
I laughed softly. “You always answer like you’re testifying.”
“I’m trying not to say what I actually think.”
“What do you actually think?”
Sebastian looked toward sleeping Chloe, then back at me.
“I think Grant Blackwood was offered a chance to protect someone who loved him, and he chose the easiest chair in the room.”
The sentence settled over me like a verdict.
I wiped my eyes. “That was almost poetic.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
For the first time since the wedding, I smiled without pain.
Then silence returned.
Different this time.
Not empty. Not awkward.
Careful.
“Why did you become an agent?” I asked.
He leaned against the wall near the window. “Because I was angry.”
“At Evelyn?”
“At people like her. Evelyn just gave the anger a name.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m still angry.” His voice softened. “But I’m also tired of letting the dead be the only ones who tell the truth.”
I thought of Margaret.
“What was she like as a sister?”
“Annoying.”
I blinked.
His mouth curved faintly. “Brilliant, relentless, bossy. She used to correct my grammar in birthday cards. Once reported our uncle to the IRS because he bragged about hiding income at Thanksgiving.”
I laughed, then winced.
“She sounds terrifying.”
“She was five foot two and scared of moths.”
The smile faded from his face.
“She would have liked you.”
My throat tightened. “She never met me.”
“She tried to save you anyway.”
That broke through the last of my composure.
I cried quietly, one hand over my mouth so Chloe would not wake.
Sebastian did not rush to comfort me. He did not touch me without asking. He simply crossed the room and placed a box of tissues on the bed rail.
The restraint undid me more than any embrace could have.
“I hate that everyone is calling me brave,” I whispered. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t stand up in the ballroom and expose her. I collapsed.”
“You survived.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Sometimes it is.”
I looked at him through tears. “Do you say things like that because you believe them or because they sound good in reports?”
“I don’t put that in reports.”
“Too bad.”
His smile flickered again.
Then his phone buzzed.
I watched the light leave his face as he read the message.
“What?”
He did not answer immediately.
“What happened?” I asked.
Sebastian looked at the sleeping form of my sister, then back at me.
“Evelyn made bail.”
My body went cold.
“How?”
“Money. Influence. A judge willing to call the evidence preliminary.”
“She’s out?”
“Yes. An ankle monitor. Travel restrictions. No contact order.”
I laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “Because no contact orders definitely stop people who poison witnesses.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened.
“She won’t get near you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
He stepped closer.
“Elena, I failed to prove what happened to my sister before Evelyn could hurt someone else. I will not fail twice.”
His voice was low.
Not dramatic.
Not romantic.
Worse.
True.
I looked at him, at the scar near his eyebrow, at the tired eyes that had recognized death in a glass of wine.
“Sebastian.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t make this about saving me.”
Something like respect moved through his face.
“Then what should I make it about?”
I wiped my eyes.
“Helping me bury her with the truth.”
May you like
His answer came without hesitation.
“Done.”
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