Page 89 of Throne Off Course

“Sebastian—” Alexander began, not even sure what he wanted to say.

“Not now,” Sebastian cut him off, gathering the letters with uncharacteristic care. “I can’t… I need some time.” He tucked the letters into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering there as if reassuring himself they were real. “This isn’t something I can just quip my way through, Alexander.”

The admission—so unlike Sebastian’s usual deflective humor—hit Alexander hard. He nodded, understanding.

“I’ll be around,” he offered, the words inadequate but sincere. “When you’re ready to talk about it.”

Sebastian paused at the doorway, not quite looking back. “They both kept this from me,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. “Mymother. Your father. They decided I didn’t deserve to know who I really was.”

The raw hurt in his voice made Alexander wince. “I don’t think it was about deserving,” he said carefully. “I think it was about protecting you.”

Sebastian didn’t answer. He simply walked out, his footsteps fading down the corridor, leaving Alexander alone with the fragments of a truth that would change everything—including the memory of the father he had spent his life trying to emulate.

42

Not the Son You Wanted, but the Headache You Deserve

Sebastian hadn’t slept.

How could he, after a revelation like that?

The world as he knew it had been cracked open, everything he’d ever believed about himself reduced to a carefully constructed lie. The walls of his childhood, the name he carried, the man he had spent his life trying to impress—it was all built on something rotten.

He had spent hours pacing his rooms, trying to stitch together the fragments of his past in light of this truth. What had been real? Had anything been real?

By dawn, he had his answer.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered now was the confrontation that had always been inevitable.

He had always known this day would come. Maybe not the specifics—the precise words, the exact moment—but in the back of his mind, he’d always known there would be a reckoning. A day when he’d stand in front of his father—or at least the man he’d always assumed was his father—and demand answers.

He just hadn’t expected the question to be about who he actually was.

And so, as the morning sun cast long shadows through thecorridors of Hawthorne House, Sebastian made his way to his father’s study. His hands were steady. His steps did not falter. But there was something cold and sharp settling in his chest, a certainty that whatever happened in that room, he would not walk out of it unchanged.

Lord Hawthorne barely glanced up when Sebastian entered, too absorbed in reviewing state correspondence. As if his son—his heir—wasn’t standing before him, jaw tight, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“I see you’ve been drinking the expensive stuff recently,” Sebastian noted, eyeing the liquor cabinet, voice sharp as he shut the door behind him. “Should I take that as a sign that you’ve been expecting me?”

His father exhaled through his nose, finally setting the glass down. “I knew you were coming the moment I realized the files were missing. You were never as subtle as you thought.”

Sebastian’s laugh was hollow. “The files that revealed I’m not your biological son? That my entire life has been a lie?”

Lord Hawthorne leaned back in his chair, surveying him like a chessboard he already knew how to win. “And what would you like me to say?” he asked, voice steady.

Sebastian stepped closer, hands bracing against the desk. “I’d like you to say when, exactly, you knew.”

His father met his gaze, unflinching. “Since before I married your mother.”

The answer hit Sebastian like a physical blow.

“You knew?” he repeated, the words scraping his throat. “You knew she was pregnant with another man’s child—with the King’s child—and you married her anyway?”

Lord Hawthorne’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Of course I did.”

Sebastian staggered back slightly, processing. “Why? Some misguided sense of nobility? Love?”