Chapter 319

Sebastian's fingers intertwined with Isabella's as they rushed down the opulent, empty hallway.

They were like two rebellious aristocrats, defying society's expectations, shattering conventions—embarking on a thrilling escape.

Isabella, mesmerized by the man's broad shoulders and striking profile, felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest. Her pulse quickened. Her palms grew damp.

At this moment, she couldn't deny it—she was falling for him all over again.

And she hated herself for it.

For falling for him ten years ago. Five years ago. And now, just because he held her hand.

How infuriating! He didn’t deserve this!

Sebastian, pleased with himself, guided her swiftly through the corridor before stopping in front of an extravagant suite.

Flustered, Isabella yanked her hand free, cheeks burning. "Sebastian! What are you scheming? Do you really think I won’t call my brothers and have them tear you apart?"

Sebastian chuckled, amused by her assumption. "Where is your mind wandering, Isabella? I just stored your gift in here."

Isabella blinked, lips pursed like a delicate rosebud, her face flushing deeper.

"Even if all your brothers came at me, I could handle them," he murmured, stepping closer. His voice dropped, teasing yet restrained. "But I'd rather behave. For now."

Isabella turned away sharply. "I'd rather die than go back to your place!"

"Windermere was never my home, Isabella," Sebastian said softly, a shadow crossing his eyes. "I don’t have one."

Her chest tightened.

"Only with you could I ever have a home," he admitted, voice rough with emotion. "Without you, I’d rather stay lost."

Isabella met his gaze, slow and deliberate, like a patient who had endured too much pain.

The look shattered him.

He had been too reckless. Too impatient. He shouldn’t have said it.

"You were in the military once, weren’t you?" Isabella asked abruptly. "A peacekeeper."

Sebastian tensed, sensing danger.

"Those years you spent wandering—you know exactly why you were exiled." Her voice was sharp. "And it wasn’t for me."

The words struck like a blade.

He couldn’t escape this.

Sebastian’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Then—a soft click.

The door swung open, breaking the suffocating tension.

"Mr. Sebastian! Miss Sinclair!"

Gordon stood there, grinning. "I heard voices and thought I’d check."

Neither spoke.

"Did I... interrupt something?" Gordon swallowed, sensing the icy atmosphere.

"No."

Isabella strode inside, expression cool, avoiding Sebastian’s gaze.

Sebastian followed, lips pressed into a thin line.

Gordon hesitated, but Sebastian shut the door in his face with a curt, "Stay out."

Gordon snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!"

Inside, Isabella’s breath caught.

On the coffee table sat an exquisite ebony box—antique, priceless.

Her fingers itched to touch it.

"It’s stunning," she whispered.

"Don’t just admire the box," Sebastian murmured, stepping behind her. "Open it."

His attention was fixed on her—every flicker of emotion on her face.

Isabella wiped her damp palms on her dress, a nervous habit Sebastian found unbearably endearing.

Carefully, she lifted the lid.

Inside lay a breathtaking porcelain cup—delicate pink and celestial blue, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

Isabella gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

Even her father’s private collection lacked something this rare.

"I found it three months ago in Aetheria," Sebastian said, watching her. "Negotiations were... intense. But seeing your smile now? Worth every second."

"It’s perfect," she breathed, eyes shining.

Too awed to touch it, she hovered her hands just above.

Sebastian’s arms encircled her from behind, his warmth seeping into her skin.

"You can touch it," he murmured, guiding her fingers with his.

His breath tickled her ear, sending heat rushing to her cheeks.

Their heartbeats synced. Shadows merged.

The air thickened with something intoxicating.

"Sebastian—"

Before she could protest, he pulled her flush against him, arms locking around her waist.

"Scold me later," he murmured.

Right now, he just needed to hold her.

Meanwhile, the ballroom buzzed with life.

The birthday girl, Seraphina, danced gracefully with her father, Reginald, under the glittering chandeliers.

Guests watched, enchanted.

Nathaniel swayed with his wife, Evelyn, while Adrian led a reluctant Lillian onto the floor.

"Adrian, I don’t dance!"

"I’ll teach you," he promised, hands gentle on her shoulders.

Lillian’s heart raced. "Really?"

"Really."

Elsewhere, the Lockwoods reveled in the festivities.

Vanessa, tipsy, twirled with her sister, laughing.

Margaret danced with her son, Dominic, much to Nathaniel’s amusement.

"Mom, dance with Dad or me. Why Dominic?"

Margaret scoffed. "Art isn’t for the unrefined."

The room erupted in laughter.

In a quiet corner, Camille sat alone, wineglass in hand.

Her eyes stung as she watched happy families around her.

"Miss Camille."

She looked up—Dominic stood before her, hand extended.

"May I have this dance?"

Camille accepted, but he noticed the glimmer in her eyes.

"Were you crying?"

"Yawning," she snapped.

Dominic played along. "Ah, my mistake."

"You are mistaken."

The room laughed again.

Camille seethed. "You must be blind—that’s why you hit my car."

"Oh, one more thing." Dominic spun her gracefully. "The police confirmed it was your fault."

Camille’s jaw dropped.

"And the insurance will call you tomorrow." He smirked. "Saving you the trouble."

What?

How dare he?!

Camille fantasized about stomping on his foot.

Across the room, Alexander lingered by his mother’s side, though his gaze kept searching.

Isabella was gone.

So was Sebastian.

His stomach twisted.

"Alexander, go find her," his mother urged, guilt in her eyes. "I know how you feel about her. Don’t waste this chance."

Alexander smiled gently. "There’s time, Mother."

Then—

"Alexander!"

His head snapped up, expression turning glacial.

His mother flinched at the voice, clinging to him.

"Alexander, come here. Now." His father’s tone was sharp.

Alexander didn’t move. "Father, are you blind? Your wife is right here."

The air turned to ice.