Someone lied to his father. Someone invented conversations I never had. And now Sebastian has to choose between me and his family.
Between me and everything he's ever known.
And from that hesitation in his voice, I'm not sure which way he's going to choose.
I pull out my phone with trembling fingers and text Ivy:Something's wrong. I might need you.
Her response is immediate:On my way. Where are you?
Me:Valentine's Gala. Ashworth Ballroom. Balcony.
Ivy:15 minutes. Don't move.
I put my phone away and wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold together pieces that are already falling apart.
Inside, the gala continues. Music, laughter, celebration.
Out here, I watch my almost-relationship crumble before it even had a chance to be real.
And the worst part? I still don't know if I should fight for it or just walk away.
Chapter 12
Sebastian
I'm goingto kill whoever told my father about Isla.
He cornered me on the balcony twenty minutes ago, I'd gone out looking for Isla, only to find him instead and I've been standing here listening to him dismantle everything I've built with her.
"—some passing infatuation with a girl who's clearly using you?"
Every word out of his mouth is a knife. Not because I believe him. But because I know exactly how this ends. My father always wins. That's what Thornhills do.
"She's not using me," I say, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.
"Sebastian." His voice shifts to that particular tone, disappointed, condescending. "I've had people looking into her. Her background, her family situation, her financial status. Do you know what they found?"
He recites facts I already know, Isla's mother, her sister's medical bills, the financial strain her family lives under daily. Things she told me herself because she trusted me with them.
Now my father is using them as weapons.
"Her mother is drowning in medical debt. Her sister has ongoing health issues that cost thousands monthly. And conveniently, right after you bid on her, she suddenly has money to spare. Money she's been sending home."
Of course she sent it home. That's who Isla is. She takes care of her family. It's one of the things I?—
"That doesn't mean?—"
"It means exactly what you think it means. She saw an opportunity and she took it. And I can't entirely blame her, she's a smart girl, clearly. But I can blame you for being naive enough to fall for it."
Naive. Like I'm a child who doesn't understand the world.
"You're wrong about her."
But there's a split second, barely perceptible where I hesitate. Not because I doubt Isla. But because I'm so conditioned to believe my father, to trust his judgment, that my brain stutters before my heart can catch up.
That hesitation is a mistake.
"Am I? Then let me share one more piece of information." He leans in, and I can smell his expensive cologne. "One of your friends was kind enough to fill me in on some conversations she overheard. Isla bragged to her friends about how easy it was to 'land a Thornhill.' How this was her ticket to job prospects, connections, a better life after graduation. How she had you completely fooled."
