Chapter 22: Breaking Point; The meeting

The city blurred past the tinted car window, but Gabriel barely saw it. His temples throbbed, his jaw locked so tight it ached.

He had left the house without slamming the door, without yelling, without breaking. That had to count for control. But inside, he wasn’t controlled. Inside, he was tearing apart.

My words still rang in his head. “She’s lying. You know me.”

But did he?

The elevator doors opened into the Grayson Tower lobby, cool marble and glass gleaming under the morning lights. Conversations hummed, phones rang and heels clicked against stone. My kingdom. My empire. But for the first time, it felt… unstable.

And then he saw her.

Emily.

She stood by the reception desk like she owned the place. A silk blouse, soft curls framing her face, a file folder tucked against her chest. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes softened instantly—rehearsed, perfect.

“Gabriel,” she breathed, relief dripping from her tone.

His gut twisted.

“What are you doing here?” His voice came out sharper than he intended.

Her smile faltered, just a little, just enough to seem vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have come, I know. But I had to see you. After last night… after everything that’s been said online…” She shook her head, lowering her eyes. “I couldn’t let her spin it all before you heard the truth.”

The receptionist looked away politely, pretending not to eavesdrop. I hated the heat crawling up my neck, the feeling that all eyes were on me.

He gestured toward the private elevators. “My office. Now.”

Emily followed, her heels clicking softly, like an echo in my skull.

The doors closed, sealing us inside.

He pressed the button for the top floor, forcing himself to stand straight, to look unbothered, in control. But her perfume drifted across the space—sweet, familiar. A scent he knew too well, even if he couldn’t remember when.

She looked at me, her eyes wide and damp. “You know I’d never hurt you, Gabriel. I only wanted us to be happy. I only wanted what we had.”

A cold shiver ran through him.

What had we had?

He couldn’t remember the affair, couldn’t remember her, but his body reacted—like it did know. Like it remembered the event for him.

He clenched his fists. “Stop playing games, Emily. If you came here to posture as the victim—”

“I came here,” she cut in, her voice trembling, “to remind you what she is.” She tilted her chin up, tears sparkling unshed in her lashes. “Eve will say anything to protect herself. But me? I don’t have a choice. I’m carrying yours.”

Her hand slid protectively over her stomach.

The elevator pinged.

The doors opened.

He stepped out first, not trusting himself to answer.

Because for all my suspicion, all my instinct screaming that this was manipulation, there was still that one thought digging claws into my brain:

What if she’s telling the truth?

—

The quiet of the house was unbearable after Gabriel left. It wasn’t silence—it was an echo, sharp and raw. Every corner whispered his doubt back at me; every shadow reminded me of Emily’s smirk.

I couldn’t sit still. My hands itched for something—anything—that would give me back control.

So I grabbed my coat, shoved my phone in my pocket, and walked.

The café was small, tucked away down a side street, the kind of place people came to disappear into corners with laptops or whispered conversations. I chose it for that reason. Neutral ground. Hidden.

When I pushed open the door, the smell of roasted coffee beans wrapped around me, comforting for only a second. My heart still pounded too fast, my throat too dry.

He was already there.

Sebastian.

He sat near the back, his posture straight, his sharp suit at odds with the cosy warmth of the café. The sunlight caught on his cufflinks, on the clean line of his jaw. Always collected. Always calculating.

But when his eyes lifted to meet mine, there was something else. Something softer.

“Eve,” he said, standing as I approached.

I slid into the seat across from him, ignoring the way my chest tightened at the sound of my name in his voice. “Thank you for coming.”

He didn’t waste time. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I assume this is about her.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Emily.”

His mouth curved—though it wasn’t a smile. More like a blade being unsheathed. “What has she done now?”

I told him everything. The photos. The posts. The confrontation at the door. The folder Gabriel had looked at like it was a death sentence.

Sebastian listened, quiet, his gaze never leaving mine.

When I finished, he tapped a finger against the table, thoughtful. “She’s moving faster than I expected. Bold, too. But that kind of boldness leaves cracks.”

“Cracks?” I leaned in, desperate.

He nodded once. “A fake always leaves a trail. If the sonogram is forged, there will be records. If she’s lying about the pregnancy, there will be someone—doctor, clinic, pharmacy—that doesn’t line up. It’s only a matter of pulling the right thread.”

Hope flickered in my chest, fragile and dangerous. “You think you can prove it?”

His eyes narrowed, steady. “If she’s lying, yes. But you need to be prepared for the other possibility.”

The words hit like ice water.

That, maybe she wasn’t lying.

I looked down at my hands, knuckles white around my coffee cup. “If it’s true…” My voice cracked. “If it’s true, then I’ve already lost, haven’t I?”

“Not necessarily.” His tone softened, and when I looked up, his expression had shifted—less lawyer, more… something else. “Your battles aren’t only won on facts. They’re won on perception. On who commands the narrative.”

My throat tightened. “She’s already ahead.”

“Then you change the rules.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words heavy. Dangerous. Necessary.

“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I’ll dig until I find something she doesn’t want seen by the public. And if she’s lying, I’ll prove it. To Gabriel. To the world. But you—” He leaned closer, his gaze holding mine. “You need to stay strong. No cracks. No fear. If you show weakness now, she wins.”

I pressed my palms flat on the table to stop them from shaking. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Then I won’t give her that satisfaction.”

For the first time since yesterday, I felt like I could breathe. Just a little.

But deep down, the question still gnawed at me.

What if Sebastian found nothing?

What if Emily’s words weren’t lies but truth sharpened into a weapon?