Julian didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t react the way she expected, no sharp words, no imdiate anger. But that almost made it worse.
Slowly, deliberately, he walked around the desk. Each step is asured. Controlled. Until he stood right in front of her.
Amara didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
He leaned down, resting his forehead gently against hers, an intimate gesture, familiar, grounding... but sothing about it felt different this ti.
Because his eyes. His eyes didn’t leave the cedar box.
"Amara..." he said quietly, his voice calm, almost too calm. "If the Creeds are sending ’tokens of affection,’ you need to tell ."
His breath brushed softly against her skin, but there was tension beneath it, tight and restrained.
"We can’t have secrets," he added, more firmly now. "Not now." The words wrapped around her, heavy with aning. With a warning.
Amara’s lashes fluttered, her gaze dropping for a brief second before she forced herself to et his again.
"It’s not a secret, Julian," she whispered. But even she could hear it. It didn’t sound convincing. Her hand remained closed around the pen, unmoving. Guarded.
"It’s just a pen." Silence followed. Julian didn’t pull away. Didn’t argue. But the air between them shifted again, thick with everything neither of them was saying. Because it wasn’t just a pen.
And they both knew it.
—
Outside the office, hidden by the frosted glass partition, Amira watched the exchange. She wasn’t looking at the romance; she was looking at the way Julian was leaning over her mother’s desk, acting as if he owned the room. Behind her, Leo leaned in, his voice a poisonous silk in her ear.
"See how he hovers?" Leo whispered. "He doesn’t trust you to run the Foundation, and he doesn’t trust Amara to run the company. He’s taking over, Amira. Just like we feared."
Amira’s grip on her handbag tightened until her knuckles paled, the leather creasing beneath the pressure.
Her eyes burned. Grief. Anger. Resentnt. All tangled together into sothing volatile, sothing dangerous. Sebastian’s gift had reached Amara.
She had seen it in her sister’s face... that hesitation, that secrecy. And sohow, that hurt more than anything else. Because it ant the wedge he had so carefully placed between them wasn’t just there.
It was working. Amira exhaled sharply, blinking back the sting in her eyes as she turned away.
"I want to be alone, Leo," she said, her voice clipped, controlled but barely. "I’ll see you at the foundation." She didn’t wait for a response.
Didn’t want one.
Her heels struck the ground with sharp, purposeful clicks as she walked away, each step fueled by a storm she couldn’t quite contain. Half of everything is mine. The thought echoed in her mind, over and over again.
Half. Not a favor. Not charity. Hers.
And yet, here she was on the outside, watching Amara hold everything together like she was the only one who mattered. Like she was the only daughter who had lost sothing.
Amira’s jaw tightened. No. She wouldn’t be sidelined. Not again. If Amara wouldn’t give her what was rightfully hers... Then she would find a way to make her.
Her steps slowed as she reached the gardens, the open air doing little to ease the pressure building in her chest. She dragged in a breath, then another, trying to steady herself, but her mind kept spinning.
Julian. The lawyers. The docunts. And Leo’s words are still ringing in her ears.
"This isn’t the way to do it, Amira." Her lips pressed into a thin line. Then what was? She had stepped out here to clear her head... but the noise inside her only grew louder.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Didn’t sense the shift in the air. Not until. She stopped. A figure stood directly in her path. Still.
Immovable. Her breath hitched slightly as her eyes lifted. And there he was. Sebastian. He looked exactly as she rembered and sohow worse.
Composed. Polished. Dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like it had been tailored to his very nature, sharp, precise, unyielding. There was sothing cold about him.
Not loud. Not obvious. But it was there in the way he stood, in the stillness of his posture, in the faint, knowing curve of his lips.
"Amira." Her na rolled off his tongue smoothly, like he had been expecting this mont. Like he had been waiting for her.
Amira straightened instinctively, her fingers tightening once more around her bag as her expression hardened.
"You have a habit of appearing where you’re not wanted," she said coolly. Sebastian’s brow lifted ever so slightly, amusent flickering in his eyes.
"And you have a habit of pretending you don’t need help." The words landed softly. But they struck deep.
Amira scoffed, though it lacked real bite. "If this is about that ridiculous gift you sent..."
"It wasn’t for you," he cut in smoothly. The interruption was gentle. Precise. And sohow, more cutting because of it.
A brief silence stretched between them. Amira’s eyes flashed.
"I know exactly who it was for," she snapped. "And I suggest you stay out of my family’s affairs."
Sebastian took a slow step forward. Not threatening. But deliberate.
"Your family’s affairs," he repeated, as if testing the words. Then, quieter.. "Interesting choice of phrasing." Amira’s chest rose and fell, her patience thinning.
"Say what you ca to say, Sebastian." He studied her for a mont. Not her face. Her reactions. Her cracks.
And when he spoke again, his voice dropped slightly, lower, more intentional.
"You’re being pushed out." The bluntness of it made her flinch before she could stop herself. His gaze sharpened.
"There are docunts being prepared. Decisions being made. And sohow..." He tilted his head slightly. "You’re not a part of any of them." Amira’s pulse quickened.
"You don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t have to listen to you. You only want to hurt Amara," she said, but her voice had lost so of its certainty. Sebastian didn’t argue. Didn’t need to.
Instead, he reached into his pocket slowly, pulling out a folded piece of paper, holding it between his fingers, but not handing it to her.
"Get out of here, Sebastian," Amira snapped, her red hair wild around her face. "This is private property."
"Is it?" Sebastian stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a dark, artificial pity. "Because the way I read the papers, Amira, you have nothing. Your father left every brick of this mansion to Amara. And your mother? She didn’t change a single line of her will before she died. Amara is the sole heir. You are a ghost in this legacy."
"That’s a lie!" Amira’s voice cracked. "My mother...my aunt...she loved ! She would never leave with nothing."
"Oh, she loved you," Sebastian purred, "but not enough to trust you with the Pedro fortune. In fact, even if Amara wanted to give you a share, the legal structure of the will wouldn’t allow her. It’s locked, Amira. You’re at her rcy for the rest of your life."
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