Sebastian saw the shift in her eyes and immediately changed tactics. He dropped to his knees by the bed, his voice cracking with the kind of desperate sincerity that had kept Amara captive for a decade.
"Dear Amara, I really tried to save you, I swear," he pleaded, reaching for her hand again.
Amara looked at him, her vision still swimming. "Do you even hear yourself?" she mumbled, the words feeling like lead in her mouth.
"I really wanted to save you. I know I messed up," Sebastian continued, his eyes brimming with fake tears. "Please forgive me. It'll never happen again. I swear, Amara, next time I'll be the first to protect you, okay? Come on. Why don't you believe me? Just trust me this once. I don't know why things got out of hand, but... but thankfully, Seren's alright. You care about her so much. If anything happened to her, you'd be devastated."
Amara felt a cold chill. He was using her love for the child as a shield for his mistress.
"I don't want to hear any of this," Amara said, her voice cutting through his lies. "I just have one question. If you had to choose between me and Elara... who would it be?"
Sebastian didn't even blink. "Dear, stop overthinking. Of course I choose you. You're the only one I love."
"Then call the cops," Amara said, her eyes burning with a sudden, fierce light. "Report Elara for intentional harm. If you choose me, prove it."
The air in the room curdled. Sebastian's face transformed, the "loving husband" mask melting away to reveal the monster beneath.
"I told you she didn't do it, Amara!" he yelled, the sound exploding in the small room. It was the first time in ten years he had ever raised his voice to her.
Amara flinched, but she didn't look away. "You won't do it, huh? Get out. Get out right now!"
"What is wrong with you?" Sebastian asked, his voice suddenly dropping back into a terrifying, eerie calm. He adjusted his cufflink, looking down at her as if she were a broken toy.
"You make me sick," Amara choked out, the bile rising in her throat. "Get out!"
"This isn't you, Amara," Sebastian said, his tone patronizingly sweet again, which was somehow worse than the shouting. "It's like you aren't yourself right now. I'll head home and make you some of your favorite meals. Get some rest."
He turned and walked out, his footsteps confident and rhythmic, leaving the door slightly ajar.
As the silence rushed back into the room, Amara collapsed against the pillows. She didn't just cry, she sobbed, a guttural, racking sound of a woman mourning a ten-year life that had never actually existed. She was alone in a hospital bed, her marriage was a forgery, her child was a weapon, and the man she loved was a stranger.
She cried until her throat was raw, but through the tears, a new thought began to take root. He was going home to make "food." He thought he could fix this with sugar and a smile.
He had no idea that while he was gone, she was going to find a way to make sure he lost everything.
Sebastian stood by the driver's side door of his sleek, black sedan, the hospital's cold neon lights reflecting off the polished hood. He looked up at the glowing windows of the surgical wing, his jaw tight. He was trying to reconcile the woman screaming at him inside with the "sweet, understanding Amara" he had kept in a velvet-lined world for a decade.
"You really crossed the line this time, Seb."
Sebastian turned. His childhood friend, Damien, stood a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. Damien had been there for the whole ride—the rise of the Creed empire, the wedding, and the secret life.
"Amara is seriously hurt," Damien said, his voice heavy with disapproval. "You can't gaslight your way out of a head injury. Elara should be punished for what she did. She almost killed your wife."
"I know Amara is hurt," Sebastian snapped, his patience fraying. "But Elara... Elara is my savior. And she is carrying my child again. My actual heir. Let's just put this behind us."
Sebastian climbed into the car and slammed the door, the engine purring to life as he sped out of the parking lot.
Damien stayed behind, watching the red taillights vanish into the night. Sebastian's words, Elara is my savior echoed in his mind, triggering a memory that felt like a splinter under his skin.
He thought back seven years, to the twisted metal and smoke of the car crash that had nearly ended Sebastian's life. Sebastian had always claimed that Elara was the one who pulled him from the wreckage before the car exploded, cementing his eternal loyalty to her. It was the foundation of their entire secret relationship.
Was it really Elara who pushed him away from the flames? Marcus wondered, a chill running down his spine. Or was that just the first lie in a mountain of them?
Damien looked back at the hospital. If Elara wasn't the savior Sebastian thought she was, then the entire reason for Amara's suffering was built on a fraud.
"I need to check the old police reports," Damien whispered to the empty parking lot. "I need to see who was actually at that crash site."
Damien sat in the dim light of his private office, the grainy footage from seven years ago looping on his monitor. The quality was poor typical for a roadside security camera from so long... but the movements were clear.
Two women had been at the scene of the car crash.
One had stood back, frozen in shock or perhaps fear, while the other had crawled through the shattered glass and black smoke, dragging Sebastian's limp body away just seconds before the fuel tank ignited. In the chaos and the heat haze, their faces were blurred shadows.
"Two women," Damien whispered, leaning closer to the screen. "Sebastian always credited Elara because she was the one standing over him when he regained consciousness. But looking at the body language..."
He paused the video. The woman who did the saving was wearing a distinctive, beaded bracelet the kind university students wore back then. He had seen it somewhere but don't remember from where
Amara wasn't sleeping. She was staring at the ceiling, her mind working faster than it ever had before.