Chapter 387 The Photographs

Sebastian’s POV

Only the desk lamp was on in my study. An open bottle of red wine stood beside my glass. I had no intention of sharing it.

I held a photograph of Emilia and me, the only one we’d ever taken together. She stood close to me with a faint smile. I ran my thumb over the edge of the picture, remembering how much that smile had once reassured me.

She was gone, but I still had this. I wasn’t ready to put it down.

I finished my wine, set the photograph on the desk, and opened a drawer. Inside were the other pictures I’d collected over the past few weeks, most from Emilia’s small room. Several were from her university days.

She looked happy in those photographs, laughing without any sign of the worry I’d grown used to seeing. Ryder stirred as I studied her face.

“Our mate,” he murmured. “She never smiled like that for us. Not once.”

I couldn’t argue with him. Since marrying me, she’d had little reason to look that happy. I stared at the photographs, wondering whether loving me had given her anything worth all the pain.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I was so distracted that I didn’t hear the door open.

“Do you miss her that much?” Abigail asked. “You’d rather stare at a scrap of paper than face a living woman standing right in front of you.”

I opened my eyes. “Get out.”

“The more you tell me to leave, the firmer I plant my feet.” She lifted her chin. “My patience has worn through, Sebastian. Even if you feel nothing for me, you should feel something for the child in my belly. He’s yours. Your blood. Your pup.”

I stood, giving her a mocking smile. “Let me make this very simple for you. In all the world, there is exactly one woman I care about. And only she will ever be worthy of carrying my child.”

Her shoulders trembled, but she stayed where she was.

“Even so, she couldn’t do it. That precious mate of yours couldn’t even bear you a pup.”

“Even if Emilia could never carry a child,” I said, “I would choose a barren life over a bastard with poisoned roots. Pups take after their parents, Abigail. A child of yours would grow up every bit as cheap and conniving as the woman who schemed him into existence. He’d be nothing but a stain on the Simons bloodline.”

She rushed at me and struck my cheek. I let her hit me, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted. That seemed to make her angrier.

My phone buzzed before she could swing again. I took it out and answered, deliberately softening my voice.

“Hello, Lia. Did you miss me?” I paused to listen. “Mm. I’ll come and keep you company. Stay right where you are.”

Abigail went still. I ended the call, put my phone away, and walked past her without another word.

Abigail’s POV

After he left, I sank to the floor and cried. This was nothing like the future I’d imagined. I’d lied and schemed to get into this house, and Sebastian was making sure I regretted every minute of it.

I wiped my face and got up. I couldn’t sit there waiting for him to come home from another woman.

Downstairs, I took a bottle of whiskey from the bar and drank straight from it. The liquor burned my throat, but I swallowed again.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Mila hurried across the room and pulled the bottle from my hand.

“You’re carrying a child and you’re drinking? Are you trying to kill yourself, or just the baby?”

“Get away from me.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Your own son doesn’t care whether I live or die. Why should you pretend to?”

“If it weren’t for my grandchild, I wouldn’t waste a single breath on you.”

“There it is. Finally, the truth.” I folded my arms. “I always knew you were only playing at kindness. All those warm little smiles, and underneath you’ve been cursing my name this whole time.”

“And whose fault is that?” she demanded. “Look at yourself. Tell me, what part of you deserves anyone’s care? You prowl this house like a feral thing, sowing chaos from dawn to dusk. Is that your one talent? Is that all you’re good for?”

“You think I’d be like this if your son showed me the smallest scrap of warmth?” My hands clenched at my sides. “It’s easy to lecture from where you’re standing, you dried-up old hag!”

She stared at me, speechless. Then her face reddened.

“You dare call me that? You vile, vulgar creature. No wonder a man can’t stand to look at you. Honestly, I’d be shocked if my son didn’t find you unbearable. If I were a man, I’d run the other way the moment you walked in!”

She looked me up and down. “You aren’t fit to stand in Emilia’s shadow!”

Perhaps I could have stopped myself before that. But she had to say Emilia’s name.

I lunged and shoved her. She fell hard onto the marble, still clutching the bottle. I stood over her, shaking with anger.

“If she’s so perfect, why did you force her to divorce your son in the first place? If you cared so little about the Simons bloodline dying out, you should have kept her and let everyone live happily ever after.”

I bent and snatched the bottle from her hand.

“Well, congratulations. It looks like you’re fated never to hold a grandchild after all!”

I hurled it at the floor. Glass shattered across the marble, and whiskey splashed around her.

Then I ran upstairs. From the landing, I looked back and saw her staring at the broken glass. She lifted a hand toward her chest, swayed, and collapsed.

I gripped the railing. For a moment, I couldn’t move.

I was losing control of myself. I knew it, even when I was shouting things I couldn’t take back. I hadn’t always been this angry, this ready to hurt someone because I was hurting.

When had I become a woman who shoved someone to the floor? I didn’t know. Lately, I could barely look at my own reflection without wanting to turn away.

But even then, I kept thinking about Emilia.

She wasn’t here, yet her name came up in every argument. Mila compared me to her. Sebastian spent his nights staring at her photographs. I had moved into the house, but everyone still wanted her.

That night, I went through the study drawer. I took the photographs Sebastian had hidden there, including the one of them together. Then I searched the wardrobe for the clothes Emilia had left behind.

I carried everything outside and set it on fire.

One by one, I dropped the photographs into the flames. Her face blackened and disappeared. I added the clothes and watched until there was nothing left to save.

For the first time that night, I smiled. Burning her things wouldn’t make Sebastian love me, but he wouldn’t be looking at those pictures again.

I stayed beside the fire until the last photograph had turned to ash.