The next morning, the knock came at dawn.
Three sharp, deliberate taps the kind that warned you someone on the other side wouldn't take no for an answer.
Isabelle froze in the kitchen, one hand on her teacup. The baby had made her nauseous again that morning, and she was still pale and weak.
The knocks came again, louder this time.
She didn't need to ask who it was.
"Sebastian" she whispered, dread coiling in her stomach.
When she opened the door, he was standing there immaculate as always in a tailored charcoal coat, dark eyes unreadable. Two men in suits stood behind him, his security detail.
Her heart began to pound. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer. His gaze swept over her her trembling hands, her tired eyes, the fragile way she stood in the doorway.
Then his voice came low and firm. "Pack your things."
Her breath caught. "Excuse me?"
"You're coming with me."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes, you are."
She stiffened, clutching the doorknob. "You can't just walk in here and order me around."
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "You're pregnant with my child, Isabelle. Do you honestly think I'd let you live here alone, unprotected, in a building with no security?"
"I'm fine."
He looked around the small apartment cracked walls, flickering light, a broken heater humming weakly in the corner. His jaw clenched.
"You call this fine?"
"It's my choice."
"You lost the right to make that choice when you decided to hide my child from me."
The words struck like a slap.
Her throat tightened, but she met his gaze anyway. "This isn't about the baby, is it? You just can't stand that I walked away from you."
He didn't deny it. "You're right. I can't."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, she whispered, "Sebastian, please don't do this."
He took a slow breath, then said quietly but firmly, "You don't have to make this harder. You're coming with me, Isabelle. Whether you agree or not."
Her pulse raced. "That sounds like a threat."
"It's a promise."
Thirty minutes later, she was in his car.
The city rolled by outside, gray and cold under the morning drizzle. She sat stiffly in the back seat, arms folded, refusing to look at him.
He hadn't forced her not physically. But the quiet authority in his tone, the way his men waited at the door, the inevitability of his presence it all made resistance feel pointless.
She stared out the window, trying to calm her racing heart.
Sebastian finally spoke. "How far along are you?"
She didn't look at him. "Eight weeks."
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "You should have told me."
"I was going to."
"When?"
"When it was safe."
His jaw flexed. "Safe from what? Me?"
Her silence was answer enough.
"I would never hurt you," he said quietly.
Her voice cracked. "Maybe not physically. But you could destroy me with a single word. You've done it before."
He turned his head sharply, eyes darkening. "I was trying to protect you that day."
"By humiliating me?"
"By exposing him before he destroyed you."
"And now you're doing the same thing," she said bitterly. "Taking control because you think you know best."
He didn't respond. He didn't need to the silence said everything.
The car pulled into his private estate on the outskirts of the city sprawling gates, stone walls, manicured gardens, and a mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home.
As they entered, the guards nodded. Sebastian's world was precise, controlled, powerful the opposite of hers.
He parked and stepped out, opening her door. "Let's go."
"I don't belong here," she said softly.
"You do now."
He led her inside. The marble floors gleamed. Chandeliers glowed above high ceilings. Every surface was perfect, cold, and elegant just like him.
She felt small, out of place, and painfully aware of her simple clothes and trembling hands.
He turned to her at the bottom of the grand staircase. "You'll stay in the east wing. The staff has already prepared a room for you."
She stared at him, shocked. "You planned this."
"I anticipated it," he corrected calmly.
"You had no right."
"I have every right," he said, voice low but unyielding. "You're carrying my heir."
She recoiled. "Don't call it that. It's not an heir it's a baby. My baby."
"Our baby," he corrected. "And I'll protect both of you. Even if you hate me for it."
She laughed bitterly. "You don't want to protect me, Sebastian. You want to own me."
He stepped closer, eyes softening just a fraction. "If I wanted to own you, Isabelle, you'd already be mine."
The way he said her name quiet, deliberate, threaded with emotion made her chest ache.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Then he turned away. "Dinner will be brought to your room. If you need anything, tell the staff."
She didn't move. "And if I try to leave?"
His back tensed. "Then I'll follow."
She shivered not from fear, but from the strange certainty in his voice.
Her new room was breathtaking silk sheets, gold fixtures, a view of the city skyline from a window twice the size of her old apartment. But it didn't feel like home.
It felt like a gilded cage.
She sat on the bed, staring out at the fading sunset, one hand resting over her stomach.
She could still hear Sebastian's voice downstairs, giving orders, controlling everything like a man who never left anything to chance.
It terrified her and yet, a part of her felt safe knowing he was near.
"Stop it," she whispered to herself. "Don't fall for him again."
But the truth was, she already had and that scared her more than anything.
That night, she found him in his office, working under the soft glow of a desk lamp. Papers covered the table, but he wasn't reading. He was staring at a small object in his hand her engagement ring.
She froze in the doorway. "You kept that?"
He looked up slowly. "I found it at the chapel after you left."
Her chest tightened. "Why?"
He turned the ring in his fingers, the diamond catching the light. "Because it reminded me of what I should've done differently."
She frowned. "And what's that?"
"Stopped you sooner."
Her heart twisted. "You think destroying my wedding was saving me?"
He met her gaze no arrogance this time, just quiet honesty. "I think watching you marry a man who didn't deserve you would've been worse."
Her throat tightened. "You still don't get it, do you?"
"Then explain it."
"I didn't want to be saved, Sebastian. I wanted to be seen."
The silence that followed was deafening.
He rose slowly, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of her. "Then let me see you now."
She tried to step back, but he caught her wrist gently not to trap her, but to steady her.
Their eyes locked.
"You think I don't care," he said softly. "But every time you look at me like I'm the enemy, it kills me."
Her breath hitched. "Then stop acting like one."
"I'm trying."
"Then let me go."
His grip tightened just enough for her to feel the tremor in his hand. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're the only thing I've ever wanted that wasn't about power or revenge."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. The air between them burned with everything unsaid pain, longing, fear, need.
And then, slowly, he released her hand and stepped back.
"Good night, Isabelle."
She stood there long after he was gone, heart pounding, the echo of his words haunting her.
Later, as she lay awake in the dark, she finally admitted the truth she'd been avoiding since the beginning.
She was no longer just hiding from him.
She was hiding from what she felt for him.
And deep down, she knew it wouldn't stay hidden for long.