Chapter 48: The Breakfast War

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Sterling Estate. 7:30 AM.

The smell of burnt toast filled the kitchen. Sebastian sat in his wheelchair, staring angrily at the toaster. His hands, usually precise enough to code complex algorithms, were shaking slightly. He had dropped the butter knife. It lay on the floor, mocking him. He bent down to pick it up, but his core muscles were stiff from the stress of last night. He grunted, straining—

Click. A hand appeared and picked up the knife.

Sebastian looked up.Harper.

She was wearing one of his white dress shirts. It was huge on her, reaching her mid-thighs, the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was messy, tousled from sleep. Her legs were bare. She looked impossibly sexy. And impossibly domestic.

"You burned the toast," Harper said flatly, tossing the knife into the sink.

"I like it burnt," Sebastian lied, his ears turning red. He looked away from her legs. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"My pajamas were uncomfortable," Harper poured herself a cup of coffee. She leaned against the counter, sipping it. "And since I pay the mortgage here, I assume your wardrobe is included in the assets."

Sebastian clenched his jaw. "You are impossible."

"I am practical," Harper grabbed an apple. "Liam is late. Do you need help with... anything else?" She glanced at the bathroom door.

"No," Sebastian snapped. "I can shower myself. I'm paralyzed, not an invalid."

"Good," Harper sat on the kitchen island, swinging her legs. "Because we have a board meeting at 10. And I expect you to wear the blue tie. It inspires trust."

Sebastian glared at her. "I'm not your doll, Harper."

"No," Harper smiled over the rim of her mug. "You're my investment. And I protect my investments."

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[The Intruder]

Just as Sebastian was about to retort, the front door banged open. "Sebastian! We need to talk!"

A woman stormed into the hallway.Isabella Vance.

She was out on bail. She looked frantic, her hair perfectly styled but her eyes wild. She was holding a file. "My mother is insane! She froze my trust fund! You have to help me sue her! If you testify that—"

Isabella stopped dead in the kitchen doorway. She dropped the file.

She stared at Sebastian, who was holding a piece of burnt toast. Then she stared at Harper. Harper, sitting on the counter. Wearing Sebastian's shirt. Drinking from Sebastian's mug. With messy "just-woke-up" hair.

The implication was clear. It screamed: We spent the night together.

"You..." Isabella’s face went from pale to purple. "You slept here?"

Harper didn't flinch. She took another sip of coffee. "Good morning, Isabella. Bail suits you."

"You slut!" Isabella screeched. She pointed a manicured finger at Harper. "You stole my father! You stole my inheritance! And now you're sleeping with my ex-fiancé in my house?!"

"Technically," Harper said calmly, "it's my house. Since your mother tried to bankrupt it, I bought the debt. So, you are trespassing."

"Sebastian!" Isabella turned to him, tears welling up in her eyes (fake ones). "Are you going to let her talk to me like that? Look at her! She's shamelessly throwing herself at you! She's just a gold digger!"

Sebastian looked at Isabella. Then he looked at Harper. Harper looked bored. She was picking lint off his shirt.

Sebastian felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't anger at Harper. It was... pride. And a fierce, protective instinct.

He rolled his wheelchair forward, placing himself between the two women.

"Isabella," Sebastian’s voice was cold steel. "Harper is not a gold digger."

He looked at Harper's bare legs, then back at Isabella. "She is the Vice President of Vance Capital. She is my business partner. And..." He paused. "...And she looks better in my shirt than you ever did."

Isabella gasped. It was like he had slapped her.

Harper choked on her coffee. She looked at Sebastian in shock.Did he just...?

"Get out," Sebastian ordered Isabella. "Before I call the police and revoke your bail."

"You will regret this!" Isabella screamed, backing away. "Both of you! My mother will destroy this company! She has plans you don't even know about!"

"Let her try," Harper hopped off the counter. She walked up to Isabella, towering over her in her bare feet. "Tell Victoria that the 'Mistake' is waiting for her." "And next time you break into my house... I won't call the police. I'll call the dogs."

Isabella fled. The front door slammed shut so hard the windows rattled.

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[The Tension]

The kitchen was silent again. Harper turned around. She looked at Sebastian. Her cheeks were slightly pink.

"You..." she started. "You said I look good in your shirt."

Sebastian turned his wheelchair away, focusing intensely on his burnt toast. "I said it to annoy her. Don't read into it."

"Liar," Harper whispered.

She walked over to him. She placed her hands on the armrests of his chair, trapping him. "You defended me."

"I defended the company's reputation," Sebastian muttered, refusing to look at her. "Scandal is bad for stock prices."

Harper laughed softly. She reached out and fixed his collar. Her fingers brushed against his neck. His skin was burning hot.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling," she whispered.

"Go get dressed," Sebastian said roughly, his voice dropping an octave. "You're distracting me."

"Distracting you from what? Your burnt toast?"

"From my sanity."

Harper smirked. She leaned down and kissed his cheek—a quick, feather-light touch. "Blue tie, Sebastian. Don't forget."

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, swaying her hips just a little more than necessary.

Sebastian watched her go. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him. He looked at the burnt toast. He took a bite. It tasted like ash. But for the first time in months...