Chapter 20

PEARL’S POV

The flashbulbs flared like tiny detonations as Sebastian and I stepped onto the red carpet of the Ellington Gala. His hand was steady at the small of my back; protective, subtle, possessive in the quiet way I liked.

“Smile, love,” he murmured. “The wolves are watching.”

I gave a slow, poised smile, as if I hadn’t heard the whispers all week about my marriage, my past, my crown. Ellington Tower was a fortress tonight—swarms of socialites, celebrities, foreign dignitaries in tuxedos and floor-length silks. My diamond cuff weighed less than the looks some of them gave me, but I didn’t break stride.

And then I saw her. Lavenia. At the far end of the ballroom, dressed in vintage Givenchy and smiling like a viper with glitter in its teeth. Champagne flute in hand, she was alone—but too comfortable, too smug. She waved at someone, blew a kiss to a group of C-list influencers.

“What the hell is she doing here?” I asked under my breath.

Sebastian didn’t even look. “Let me guess—used someone’s name, pulled strings, slept with the event chair’s nephew?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He gave my hip a light squeeze. “Ignore her. She came for the drama, not the charity.”

But I couldn’t ignore it. Not when I caught another familiar silhouette slipping in near the bar. Jacob. In a black velvet tux, smirking like sin. Alone. Watching me. And just behind him—half-shadowed—Luther. Loosely buttoned shirt, hands in his pockets, and already halfway through his second drink.

They hadn’t come together, but the air around them buzzed like a fuse inching toward detonation.

“They’re not here by accident,” I whispered.

Sebastian nodded grimly. “I noticed. That’s why I booked a decoy suite in the tower. Our real one is under my cousin’s name.”

He always thought two moves ahead. That’s why I married him.

Still, the sight of Jacob across the room, jaw tight, eyes tracking me as if I still belonged to him, did something to me. Not longing. Not regret. Just a cold drip of dread in the pit of my stomach. He lifted his glass to me. I didn’t blink, didn’t nod. I just leaned into Sebastian’s shoulder and let him guide me deeper into the crowd.

Later that night, we returned to the hotel suite—our real one. I was unzipping my gown when I noticed the black tulips lying neatly on the bed. No note. No tag. Just the flowers.

Sebastian stepped in behind me, his tie loose. “You alright?”

I didn’t answer. Just stared at them, heart knocking.

He came closer, his expression hardening. “Pearl…these weren’t delivered by staff.”

“No,” I said softly. “They were placed.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he turned and locked the door. “Security detail doubles tonight.”

The perfume showed up the next morning. I found it on the balcony table while sipping espresso. Unmarked, but I knew the scent: amber and Turkish rose. It used to cling to my wrists when I was with Jacob. He’d spray it on my scarves, whisper about how it marked me. It used to make me feel beautiful. Now it made my stomach knot.

When Sebastian stepped out, I didn’t hide it. He saw the bottle in my hand and went still. “That’s his, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“I’ll hire another unit,” he said. “Third-party, untraceable.”

“He’s escalating,” I whispered. “He’s not just haunting me, Seb. He’s trespassing. Emotionally. Physically.”

Sebastian walked over and gently took the bottle from me. “He doesn’t own you. I do.”

I gave him a look. He smiled. “Not like that. I mean you’re mine to protect. Mine to hold when you’re angry. Mine to fight for. That’s love, Pearl. Not obsession.”

I leaned into him then. Just for a moment. Because for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure if Jacob was just bitter…or if I should start being afraid. Really afraid. Because love doesn’t leave perfume on your balcony. Only ghosts do. And Jacob Wright wasn’t ready to rest.

I was still curled in our bed, Sebastian’s cologne lingering faintly on the pillows, when his phone buzzed across the marble dresser. He picked it up with that usual furrow in his brows, towel slung low on his hips.

“Duval,” he muttered. “Something urgent at Montgomery’s downtown branch. They want me on-site. Now.”

I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Then I’m coming with you.”

He smiled—God, that smile. Always so calm when I couldn’t be. “No, Pear. You need rest. You barely slept after the gala. You can scream at reporters in your dreams.”

I forced a smile. “Sebastian…”

He walked over, bent down, and kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

I grabbed his hand. “Text me when you get there.”

“I always do.”

He left. Just like that. And I never got the text.

Thirty-two minutes later, my phone rang. Unknown number. The tone of death.

“Mrs. Montgomery? This is City General Hospital. Your husband has been in a vehicular accident. Critical condition. Please come immediately.”

My lungs caved in. I didn’t even put on proper clothes. Just threw on a coat, my hair still damp, and bolted. I crashed into the hospital lobby like a woman possessed, heels slipping on polished tiles. The receptionist stammered my name, but I shoved past.

“ICU. Where is he?”

Security guards tried to stop me at the elevator. I snapped, “Touch me and I’ll have your badge shredded before you clock out.”

The elevator doors shut behind me, and I felt the panic rising in my throat like acid. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be—

The doors opened. A nurse met me halfway down the hall. Her voice was trembling.

‘He’s stable…for now. But he suffered blunt head trauma. His ribs are fractured. He hasn’t woken up. He—he might not…’

‘Don’t,’ I snapped, and my voice broke. ‘Don’t say it. Not yet.’

I stepped into the ICU. And I shattered.