Chapter 303
Author’s pov
Dinner dragged on with an undercurrent of tension that seemed to thicken with every passing minute.
Sebastian noticed it right away.
Cecilia’s skin was flushed, and her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her water glass.
Her gaze was distant, almost glassy. Something was off. This wasn’t like her.
He shifted in his seat, his thigh brushing lightly against hers beneath the table.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, meant only for her.
Cecilia gave a faint smile. “Just tired. I’ve been running around all day trying to get everything set up p>
But her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass before she set it down.
Across the table, Simon leaned forward, his voice slipping into something that sounded helpful, but felt rehearsed.
“You look a little flushed. Could be the heat… Or maybe you’ve overdone it. Want to lie down for a bit p>
The suggestion came too easily. Too ready. As if he’d been waiting for an excuse to say it.
Cecilia didn’t hesitate. She took the escape he offered without question.
“Good idea. I’ll just rest for a few minutes p>
She stood slowly, smoothing the front of her T-shirt as she rose.
The room felt too warm now, too close. Every eye on her.
“Please, go ahead and eat. No need to wait on me p>
Sebastian started to rise, ready to follow, but VanDyck’s voice stopped him.
“Sebastian,” her father called from the other end of the table, his cheer sounding just a little too practiced, “after dinner, I’d love to show you my orchids. That cutting you sent is thriving p>
Sebastian paused, then sat back down, his expression shifting into pleasant formality.
“I’d be honored p>
Simon jumped in before the moment could settle.
“VanDyck, are you sure that’s a good idea? Your back’s still bothering you, and the tiles in the greenhouse are slick. I could lay down some cardboard to help p>
VanDyck looked surprised. “You’ve done enough already. My back, the thermostat… I can’t ask for more p>
“It’s no trouble at all. That’s what neighbors are for, right p>
Sebastian’ s smile didn’t falter. Without glancing up, he reached under the table, tapped out a quick message to Sawyer, and hit send.
Then, calm as ever, he said,
“Cardboard leaves gaps and turns into a slipping hazard. It also looks terrible. No offense, but I have certain standards when it comes to presentation p>
The room fell quiet for a beat. Every head turned toward Sebastian.
VanDyck took a long sip of wine, pretending not to notice the shift in the air.
Esther and Helena exchanged a quick glance, then launched into bright, overly cheerful conversation, urging everyone to keep eating.
Their voices were just a little too high, a little too fast.
The kind of tone that said: nothing’s wrong, please keep pretending.
They hadn’t even reached dessert when the sound of heavy boots and clinking tools echoed from the front hallway.
In her bedroom, Cecilia lifted her head from the pillow, disoriented. It sounded like someone was tearing up the floors with a jackhammer.
She winced, dragging herself upright. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t going away on its own.
She slipped on her slippers and stepped out into the hallway, following the sound.
It led her to the sliding glass doors that opened onto the balcony. The greenhouse beyond was a blur of movement and noise.
When she stepped inside, she found a small crew installing professional-grade non-slip carpeting over the tile flooring. Rolls of rubber-backed matting lay stacked by the wall, and the sharp scent of glue hung in the air.
She blinked, momentarily stunned.
“This was Sebastian’ s idea?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the noise.
Sawyer, standing near the door supervising the work, glanced at her. He didn’t need to say anything. The look on his face said it all.
“Who else would go this far?” he replied dryly.
Cecilia rubbed her temple, trying to process it.
When the crew finally packed up and left, Esther appeared in the doorway with a bright smile. “Sawyer, you must stay for dinner! We’re just getting started p>
But he declined, as always, with his usual quiet grace.
Cecilia stepped in quickly. “I’ll walk you out,” she said, already halfway to the door.
She needed air. And space.
Sawyer left after a short exchange at the door.
Cecilia didn’t go back in. She wasn’t ready to face the forced small talk and all the things no one wanted to say out loud.
Down the hall, past a wall of windows overlooking the Denver skyline, she spotted a quiet little seating area tucked between two potted ficus trees. It was small, out of the way, and exactly what she needed.
She eased into one of the chairs, the kind with a stiff cushion and polished chrome legs, standard in most upscale buildings. Her soft-soled slippers made no sound on the new carpet.
The hum of the city below faded behind double-paned glass. The hush was a balm after the stiff formality of dinner.
She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sinking as if finally allowed to drop.
She let her eyes drift closed.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps. Light. Measured. Getting closer.
Her eyes snapped open.
Cecilia stiffened, every muscle tensing as if the mountain air had suddenly turned cold.
Her breath caught, held halfway between inhale and exhale. She didn’t move.
Didn’t dare move.
The footsteps stopped near the elevator lobby, then started again, slower this time. Intentional. Almost careful.
Too quiet for a neighbor just heading home.