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Which is why I don’t know why I am surprised that something unfortunate is waiting for me when I come back to the family home early from work one day, suffering from a migraine brought on by a lack of quality sleep and the stress of taking over as CEO. Actually, the unsavory guest isn’t here for me, and I don’t think I’m supposed to even know that she’s in the building at all, but thankfully some of the staff in the house still has loyalty to my mother even with her being gone. It’s led to a lot of them treating me like a child these past weeks, checking on me and making sure that I’m eating and drinking water and not just whiskey all day long. These are tasks that would usually be left to my mother, of her own accord of course, but now have fallen to those who miss her, and know how much she would worry about me if she was still here.
Ingrid, my mother’s maid who had become more of a personal friend to her over the years as Dad pulled away and my siblings and I grew up, is the worst of the bunch. I’ve been spending most nights at the family estate, wanting to keep a close eye on my father and his health concerns, and it’s a little unsettling to exit the shower and see a folded robe and pre-warmed towel alongside a glass of ice water and two aspirin waiting for me that wasn’t there when I started. Or all the alcohol slowly being taken from my wet bar in my quarters and ending up back in the main bar near the kitchens instead, but I know that she means well. I’ve been meaning to speak to her about boundaries, but when she greets me at the door to the estate, Excedrin migraine pills and yet another damned glass of water in her hand, I’m glad that I haven’t had that discussion yet. In fact, I might never have it, seeing how useful she is.
“How did you know I had a headache?” I ask, tossing the pills back and chasing them with a drink.
Ingrid looks around, making sure that no one else is nearby, and speaks quickly and quietly. “I could tell from the way your face looked when you got out of the car. That little pinched expression between your eyebrows…but that’s neither here nor there. Look…” She leans in so she can whisper. “You didn’t hear this from me, sir, but there is someone with your father in his study that I think you would want to be aware of.”
I still, growing cold. “Who, Ingrid?”
Her gaze darts around again before she answers. “Lady Van Dieren. Not the younger Lady, mind you.”
Handing the water back to the maid without a word, I quickly make my way through the hallways of our family estate, heading towards my father’s study. Something in my gut tells me that whatever Margaret is here for, it can’t be anything good, and I need to find out why.
As I approach the door, I can hear muffled voices coming from inside. It sounds like Margaret and my dad are having a conversation, but both of them sound strained and quietly angry.
My heart sinks as I push the door open and see Margaret standing there, speaking to my dad, standing over him as she does so as if she is flaunting her good health in his face. Dad looks exhausted and pale, his hands shaking where he has them clasped over the ornate head of his walking cane even as he sits, the pointed end of it digging into the Persian carpet. I can feel my blood starting to boil as I step into the room, wondering what on earth she could be saying to him. Margaret quickly turns to look at me as I enter, a look of shock and panic flashing across her face.
Before I can say anything, Margaret quickly makes her exit, leaving me alone with my father, sweeping past me without even a greeting or goodbye. I turn to follow her, enraged, but I’m stopped by my father’s quiet request. “Wait, Seb.”
Turning, I can feel his gaze piercing into me as he stares me down. I know he’s not happy about whatever it is he’s just heard from Margaret, and I’m spiraling thinking about what awful things she could have told him. Lies, no doubt, but she’s enough of a snake in the grass to make them believable.
“Close the door and sit down, son,” he rasps, and despite my better judgment, and how much I don’t want to hear what he has to say, I shut the door and take a seat. “Sebastian, we need to talk.” His voice’s stern and unyielding. He pauses for a moment, looking at the void in front of him as he seems to mentally prepare himself for his next set of words. Finally, he turns to me, his expression restrained. “This relationship has gone too far. I can’t allow you to continue seeing Margaret’s daughter.”
I can feel my anger rising at his demand. How dare he tell me what I can and cannot do? But I know I need to keep my cool if I want to salvage this situation. I need my father firmly on my side, but I also need him to keep calm for his health’s sake. Maybe I should have been more transparent about my intentions with Julia from the beginning, but it’s too little too late now.
“I understand your concerns, Dad,” I reply, trying to keep my tone even. “But I care for her. I’m not going to just give up on something that I know will be good in the long run just because Margaret is being as difficult as possible about the whole thing. I won’t apologize for spending time with someone whose company I enjoy.”
My father’s expression softens slightly, but I can still see the disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m not just concerned about your relationship with Margaret’s daughter, Sebastian.” His voice’s low and there’s a sadness dripping from everything he says. “I’m disappointed in the son I raised. The threats you were making to Margaret without any evidence…that’s not who we are as a family.”
My heart sinks at his words. He knows. Margaret must have told him everything. My intentions to marry Julia and the threats I made to Margaret in my office days before. Up until this second, there has been a part of me that has hoped that my father would have changed after losing Mom, and that he’d be on my side when it comes to asking for Julia’s hand, but now I know that was a false hope.
“I won’t apologize,” I grit out. “Especially for that—”
He holds up a hand, and I snap my jaw shut before the words can escape. My dad looks at me with a mixture of fury and sadness in his eyes. “How could you do this to us, Sebastian?” he asks, his voice shaking with emotion. “After everything we’ve done for you, after all the sacrifices we’ve made, this is how you repay us? By throwing away everything we stand for, by throwing away our family's legacy?”
I take a deep breath, trying to control my own rising fury at the whole situation. “Dad, I truly hope you are being facetious right now. Nothing that I have done thus far has ruined our legacy, and there is zero threat of it doing so. I’m not throwing anything away,” I say, my voice firm and resolute. “I love Julia, and I want to be with her. Our union would benefit both families, no matter what Margaret says. We both want to get engaged, and nothing you or anyone else says can change that.”
My dad’s face contorts at my pushback, his fists clenching on the head of his cane until his knuckles go white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, son,” he spits, his jaw flexing. “You’re young, naive, and foolish. You don't understand the real world and the consequences of your actions.”
I feel my own emotions starting to boil over, my inability to keep them under wraps making me even more annoyed. I’m so sick of everyone acting like they know what is best for Julia and I. We are both adults, and I am no fool to mistake what we have as anything but love. In a world like mine, true love is a rare and precious thing. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” I manage to say, my voice rising. “I’m a grown man, and I can make my own decisions.”
My dad shakes his head in disgust. “You’re not thinking clearly, Sebastian.” I can see that the pain on his face is genuine, but how much of it is affected by the loss of his wife and children, I will never know. “This girl has bewitched you, clouded your judgment. You can’t see the forest for the trees.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I press, growing tired of his opposition as I rise from my seat. Then pointing a finger at my dad, I proceed. “And I won’t let you, Margaret fucking Van Dieren, or anyone else tell me otherwise. I love Julia, and I want to be with her. She feels the same. I’m going to propose, Dad, and if that means going against your wishes, then so be it.”
The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with heavy negativity and frustration. I can feel my heart racing, my hands trembling with adrenaline. My dad looks like he’s about to say something else, but before he can, he clutches his chest and collapses to the floor.
Time seems to stop, and in an instant, I want to take back every word I’ve said in the last five minutes and cram them back down my throat, never speaking them again. I have a million thoughts, swearing to some higher power that I will marry Julia in secret and never tell Dad if only this moment will stop and rewire, but nothing changes. He still slumps to the floor in a heavy, muted thump.
“Dad!” I shout, rushing over to him and supporting him so his head doesn’t hit the ground. “What’s wrong?”
He’s gasping for breath, his face bone white and contorted in pain. “Heart…my heart…” He raises a hand to touch my cheek. “Seb, my son…”
Balancing him on my lap with one hand, I dig my phone out of my pocket with the other, the migraine that had been fading in my skull roaring back to life as I’m dialing for help as quickly as I can. Sick, horrible dread settles over me, even as the nurse that we have on staff rushes in after I scream for help, helping me lay Dad on the ground so she can check his vitals.
It all happens in a blur, but I can’t take my eyes off his face, and the fear that I can read there. More frightening by far is that, under the fear, I see two emotions that scare me to my very soul–relief, and acceptance.
