Chapter 7 - The Ghost from the Past"Get out," Sebastian said quietly.
His voice was devoid of all warmth, cutting through the silence of the lab like a razor blade.
"Sebastian, please—" I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks as I stepped toward him. "You know me. You know my heart. You know I would never hurt Oliver or you!"
"Gabriel," Sebastian said without looking at me, his eyes fixed on the wall. "Escort Clare and her son to the East Wing. Double the guard. No one enters, and no one leaves."
"Sebastian!" I cried, but Gabriel was already stepping between us, his face expressionless as he gently but firmly guided me toward the heavy oak door.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Clare," Gabriel muttered softly as he pushed me out into the corridor.
For the next forty-eight hours, I was a prisoner in the golden cage.
Oliver cried, asking why we couldn't go outside, why men in tactical gear were standing outside our bedroom doors, and why Mr. Sebastian wasn't coming to visit us anymore. I held my little boy close, singing him to sleep while my own mind tore itself apart.
Had I been a pawn in a game I never knew I was playing? Was my entire life just a carefully scripted trap designed by my scumbag ex-husband and a ruthless crime syndicate?
On the third night, the heavy iron door of our suite clicked open.
It wasn't Gabriel.
It was Sebastian.
He was walking completely unassisted, leaning slightly on his ebony cane, his dark suit impeccably tailored. But his face looked carved from marble—haggard, exhausted, and terrifyingly cold.
He walked slowly into the room, stopping a few feet from where I sat at the kitchen island.
"You're alive," I whispered, wiping a tear from my cheek. "You didn't... you didn't believe the doctor's lies, did you?"
Sebastian looked down at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he tossed a thick manila folder onto the marble counter.
I opened it with shaking fingers. Inside were bank statements, wire transfers, and legal documents bearing my ex-husband David's signature—alongside the letterhead of Moretti's shell corporation.
"David received five hundred thousand dollars six months before you walked into my clinic," Sebastian said, his voice flat, emotionless, like a judge handing down a death sentence. "The funds were deposited into an offshore account to pay off your mounting debts. The exact debts that forced you to take cash jobs at that rundown wellness center."
My breath hitched. "I didn't know... David told me the bank froze our accounts! He left us with nothing!"
"He played his part to perfection," Sebastian continued coldly. "He acted like the villain so you would play the innocent, desperate savior when you walked through my doors. A brilliant psychological operation."
"You think I'm a spy?" I stood up, my voice rising in desperate fury as fresh tears streamed down my face. "You think I would use my own son as leverage just to infiltrate your stupid empire? Look at me, Sebastian! Look at my hands! Every single day I poured my sweat, my pain, and my gift into fixing your shattered spine because I believed in you! If I wanted you dead, I could have severed your spinal cord permanently during our very first session!"
The room fell dead silent.
Sebastian stared at me, his chest rising and falling heavily. He didn't flinch. He slowly stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"I know," Sebastian whispered softly.
I blinked, startled. "What?"
"I had my forensic accountants and intelligence analysts trace every single byte of those files for the last forty-eight hours," Sebastian said, his dark eyes finally softening, revealing the raw, dangerous depth beneath. "David used you. He sold you and your son out to Moretti without your knowledge, treating you like trash to save his own skin."
A massive wave of relief washed over me, buckling my knees, but Sebastian’s strong hand shot out, catching my waist and pulling me steady against his chest.
"Where is David?" I whispered against his lapel.
May you like
Sebastian's mouth curved into a terrifying, predatory smile.
"He's currently tied to a chair in my private basement. And tonight, Clare... you're going to watch me show him what happens when someone touches what belongs to the Lombardi family."
