Chapter 321

“Amber flipped out right there in the hospital. Called Caitlin out—said Clivia’s a train wreck, accused Caitlin of pushing Olivia to steal Chris, even hooking Civis up with Tyler. It got messy. Ella kept going, her gossip engine revved up.”

Stephanie froze, her cup stuck halfway to her mouth. This was insane—shoving Olivia at Chris, pairing Olivia with Tyler? Like something straight out of a cheesy drama. Thinking back, Caitlin’s old begging sessions with her had that same energy. Then there was Tyler—ever since Olivia got sick, Caitlin had him stuck to her hip, wearing him out. The whole family revolved around Olivia, Ella pressed on. “Look, Tyler’s been dodging Amber and the kid lately—no shock there. Now he’s laid up bad because of Olivia.”

“Amber didn’t even try to play nice with Caitlin—just went off,” Ella added, practically buzzing with excitement. Ella was loving it—Stephanie could almost see her grinning like a kid with a front-row seat. Even over the phone, the hype was catching. You’d think Ella was the one getting payback.

Stephanie shook her head, cracking a smile despite herself. “They’ve been shaky for ages. Amber’s got a short fuse.” Back in the day, Caitlin was a ball of nerves—face all scrunched up like she’d sucked a lemon. Tyler had stepped up, cooled Amber off for a while. Now, with Tyler down from Olivia’s chaos, Amber—flush with his cash—was bound to blow up. Her hospital meltdown made sense.

Ella cackled. “Oh, she’s a live wire. I’m sending you the video—it’s gold.” Stephanie paused, staring at the trees swaying outside, keeping quiet. “The Hart family’s a total clown show today. The Hodge family will hear about it any second,” Ella said, soaking in the mess. A blowup this big? It’d spread like crazy—the Hodges wouldn’t sleep on it.

Stephanie hummed. “Send it.” “Sent,” Ella chirped, then hung up. The call cut off, and right then, a knock landed on the door. A maid peeked in, dipping her head a little. “Miss,” she said, lingering by the doorway.

“What’s up?” Stephanie turned, tossing it out all casual. “Dr. Vitale said to tell you—he wants you in the boxing room, like, now,” the maid said quietly, her voice careful. Stephanie frowned, putting her phone down. “For what?” “He said Mr. Giovanni is there too,” the maid tacked on, then waited, watching for her reaction.

Stephanie’s eyebrow popped up. “Sebastian was there? What was Macro cooking up now?”

“Alright, I’ll swing by,” she said with a nod, figuring she’d go see. If Sebastian was in on it, why not? She didn’t have anything else going on. She got up, shoved the chair back, and headed downstairs. The house was huge—loaded with everything. The hall lights threw a soft shine on the floor.

She passed the glass hallway, then the pool room, snow still floating down outside, swirling in little dances. From down the way, Macro’s shouts spilled out of the boxing room. “No way, I can’t keep running—you trying to off me or something?” His voice was ragged, full of frustration.

Stephanie hit the doorway and stopped cold. Sebastian flicked his hand; two bodyguards yanked a sweaty, limp Macro back up, hauling him for more laps. Stephanie blinked. “What’s this mess?”

Macro panted, “Sebastian, I’m serious—Stefi’s gonna hate this. You’re too brutal, dude!” Sebastian was kicked back in a chair, a cigar in his fingers, smoke drifting up slow and easy. Shirt half-open, he looked icy, sharp—like nobody could touch him. The air around him was chilly, pushing everyone back. He took a long drag and said, “Ten more laps.” His voice was low, even, not a crack in it.

Macro lost it. “Five almost killed me, and you’re adding ten? You want me dead or what?” Stephanie checked Macro out—soaked, legs shaking, totally wiped, just like he’d said. Elliot, standing behind Sebastian, clocked her first, nodding toward the door. He leaned in, muttering, “Sir, she is here,” keeping it low.

Sebastian turned, meeting her eyes. He waved her over. “Stefi, come here,” he said, light but solid, like it wasn’t optional. Macro’s head jerked up at her name—rescue! His eyes sparked like she was his lifeline. He swore to himself: if he made it out, no more cracks about Stephanie. Not a word. No more poking around either—just chill and keep it low-key from now on.

Sebastian was scary as hell—sitting there with that cigar, looking like some untouchable crime lord. What was Stephanie to him? Macro wondered—His to call the shots for, his to look out for, and nobody else got a vote? One slip from anyone, and he’d bring the hammer down. Sebastian’s protective streak was insane.

Stephanie stepped up. Sebastian pulled her onto his lap in one easy move, handing the cigar off to Elliot. “What’s Macro doing?” she asked, settling in, keeping it laid-back. Sebastian glanced down at her. “Getting him fit. A good doctor should handle ten surgeries, no swe…”

Stephanie tilted her head, thrown. She scrunched her face, not sold. “But he doesn’t need that kind of stamina right now, does he?” she asked, her tone skeptical, pushing back a little. Macro was their family doctor now—he was never going to pull off ten surgeries a day.

Sebastian shrugged, chill as always. “It’s for his own good.” Stephanie’s eyes went big. She gawked at his deadpan face, mumbling under her breath. That line felt so familiar.