The silence in the penthouse after Lysander left was a living thing, thick and suffocating. Evie stood rooted to the spot, the words "paternity scandal" echoing in the hollow space he'd left behind. It was no longer just about her and him.
It was a monster with a thousand eyes, and it was turning its gaze toward her children.
Sebastian moved first, his quiet efficiency a stark contrast to the emotional bomb that had just detonated.
He went to a panel by the elevator, tapped a code, and a soft, definitive thud echoed through the suite. The lock was engaged.
"It's a security protocol," he said, answering her unspoken question. His voice was neutral, but his eyes held a glimmer of what might have been an apology. "For everyone's safety."
"Safety," Evie repeated, the word tasting like ash. "He's treating us like a threat. Like we're the enemy."
"Mr. Crowe treats everything he doesn't fully control as a potential threat," Sebastian replied, walking to the kitchen and opening the sub-zero refrigerator. It was stocked with pristine, untouched food.
He pulled out a container of fresh berries. "It's kept him alive in the business world. It's a hard habit to break."
He placed the berries and a bottle of water on the counter near her. "You should eat."
She ignored the food, her stomach churning. "He told you to investigate me. 'Everything,' he said."
Sebastian didn't deny it. He simply leaned against the kitchen island, crossing his arms. "It's my job to manage risks. Right now, you are the primary variable."
A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. A variable. That's what her life, her children, had been reduced to. She wrapped her arms around herself, the silky fabric of her dress feeling flimsy and useless.
She felt exposed, every secret she'd ever had laid bare for this stranger and his ruthless employer to pick over.
Her phone, her only tether to her real life, felt like a lead weight in her clutch. She fumbled for it, her fingers trembling. She had to call Maya. She had to hear their voices.
The screen lit up. No Service.
She looked up at Sebastian, her eyes wide with a fresh wave of panic. "You're jamming the signal?"
"The suite is a secure zone. All non-essential outgoing communications are blocked." He gestured to a landline phone on a side table. "You can use that line. It's monitored, but you can make your call."
Monitored. Of course it was. Every word, every breath, was being watched and analyzed. She felt the walls of the beautiful, sterile prison closing in. She stumbled to the landline, her fingers clumsy as she dialed Maya's number.
It rang once before being picked up.
"Evie? Oh, thank god!" Maya's voice was a frantic, familiar anchor in the surreal nightmare. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I… I told him," Evie managed, her voice cracking. She could feel Sebastian's quiet attention from across the room. She couldn't break down. Not here. Not now.
"And? What did he say? Is he… are they…?"
"It's complicated," Evie whispered, turning her back to the room. "He's… not the man I knew, Maya. He's having a DNA test done. I'm stuck here until the results come back."
"Stuck? What do you mean stuck? Evie, that's illegal! Do you want me to call the police?"
"No!" The word came out as a sharp cry. "No police. That would make it worse. Just… just put the kids on. Please. I need to hear them."
There was a rustling, and then the most beautiful sound in the world filled her ear.
"Mommy?" It was Luna, her voice small and sleepy. "Are you coming home? You missed the story. The dragon didn't get his castle."
Tears streamed down Evie's face, silent and hot. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing her daughter's face. "I know, baby. I'm sorry. I'll read it to you twice tomorrow, I promise."
"Where are you?"
"I'm… in a very tall building. With lots of lights."
"Is it a castle?"
Evie let out a wet sob that was half a laugh. "Something like that, sweetpea."
Then a deeper, more serious voice came on the line. Leo. "Mommy, are you okay? You sound funny."
Her heart shattered and swelled at the same time. He always knew. "I'm okay, my love. Just tired. I'll be home soon. Be good for Auntie Maya. I love you both to the moon and back."
"I love you, Mommy," Luna chirped.
"Love you," Leo echoed, his voice soft with concern.
The line went quiet as Maya took the phone back. "Evie, you're scaring me."
"I'm scaring myself," Evie admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Just… keep them safe. Don't let anyone talk to you. Don't answer the door for anyone you don't know."
"What's going on?" Maya's voice was sharp with fear.
"I'll explain when I can. I have to go." Evie hung up before her friend could ask more questions, before she completely fell apart. She stood there, her hand still on the receiver, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
She didn't hear Sebastian approach. She only became aware of his presence when a box of tissues appeared in her peripheral vision.
She took one, wiping her face, utterly mortified. "Satisfied?" she bit out, her voice thick with tears. "Did your surveillance get everything it needed? The sound of a mother having her heart ripped out?"
Sebastian didn't rise to the bait. He simply watched her, his head tilted slightly. "He didn't ask about them," he said quietly.
The non-sequitur threw her. "What?"
"When I gave him the alert about the press. His first question wasn't about damage control for Aether Corp. It wasn't about his stock price." Sebastian's gaze was intent.
"His first question, before he even took the phone, was 'How did they find out?' He was looking at you when he asked for it."
Evie stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. "So?"
"So," Sebastian said, turning to walk back to his post by the window, "he's considering the possibility that the leak didn't come from you. For a man who trusts no one, that's a significant data point."
He left her with that, a single, fragile thread of… not hope. But perhaps a crack in the absolute darkness. A suggestion that the monster might be capable of a thought more complex than pure destruction.
But as she looked around the locked, silent penthouse, the thread felt impossibly thin. The wait had only just begun, and already, it was tearing her apart