“Because on her birthday,” he continued quietly, venom lacing his words, “we finish this. No more fake investors. No more acting. That night, her life ends… and everything she owns becomes ours.”
Candela sucked in a quiet breath. “Are you serious?”
“Especially now that you’re carrying our child,” Sebastian answered without hesitation. “I won’t let her threaten you… or the baby.”
My lungs locked. For a moment, it felt like I had stepped outside my own body, watching everything collapse from a distance, piece by piece.
He wasn’t just deceiving me.
He wasn’t only having an affair.
He was planning my death — on my birthday.
I stepped back silently, forcing down the scream rising in my throat. My hands trembled so badly I pressed them against my chest, trying to steady my breathing.
Not now.
Not here.
I need to survive. I need to pretend. I need to beat them at their own game.
That evening, when I returned to my suite, Sebastian was already there, seated on the couch. His expression softened the moment he saw me, almost warm, almost loving.
I nearly laughed at the performance.
“There you are,” he said, releasing a breath like he’d been waiting anxiously. He rose to his feet. “We should talk.”