The mansion loomed before Isabelle like something out of a dream or a nightmare.
All glass and steel, sprawling across the hillside like a quiet fortress, it reflected the dusk sky in a sheen of gold and violet. The iron gates closed behind the car with a slow, final clang, and Isabelle's stomach tightened.
This isn't forever, she reminded herself. Just until things calm down.
The car stopped in front of the main entrance. A butler stepped forward to open the door, but she was already out, clutching her bag as if it were armor.
Sebastian followed, silent and composed, his dark suit sharp against the fading light. He didn't look at her immediately just gave quiet instructions to the staff, who scattered as if he ruled this place like a king. Which, in a way, he did.
"Isabelle," he said finally, turning to her. "You'll stay in the east wing. It's quiet. Private."
"I don't need"
"Yes, you do." His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "You're carrying my child. You need space. Rest. Safety."
That word safety cut deeper than he realized. Isabelle bit her lip, fighting the tears that burned at the back of her eyes. Safety had always been a fragile promise in her world.
She followed him up the marble steps, every part of her rebelling at the idea of being here. Yet as the doors swung open, she couldn't help but pause.
The house was breathtaking soaring ceilings, chandeliers like frozen rain, walls lined with soft art lighting and understated elegance. But beneath it all was a coldness. Everything was too perfect, too quiet.
Just like him.
"Do you own anything that isn't intimidating?" she muttered under her breath.
Sebastian's lips twitched. "You'll find the view from your suite less so."
He led her down a hall and opened a double door. Inside, warm gold light spilled over a massive bed, a sitting area, and windows that looked out over the city skyline. It was a view that stole her breath glittering lights and distance, like freedom she couldn't quite touch.
"This is"
"Yours," he interrupted softly. "For as long as you need."
Isabelle dropped her bag and turned to face him. "Why are you doing this?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the faint cologne on his collar wood, smoke, power.
"Because I don't let people I care about suffer alone," he said finally.
She blinked, stunned by the vulnerability laced beneath the calm in his tone. "You don't even know me."
"Oh, Isabelle," he murmured, his gaze dark and unreadable. "You have no idea how long I've known you."
Before she could question that, he turned away, the moment gone. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Rest if you need to."
And then he was gone, leaving her standing there confused, furious, and trembling from the weight of emotions she didn't want to name.
She didn't rest.
Instead, she wandered.
The mansion was like a maze endless rooms filled with silence. A library lined with thousands of books. A piano room that smelled faintly of polish and memory. Every space whispered of a man who lived with precision, but not peace.
When she finally found the terrace, the sky was deep blue and the city glittered below like scattered jewels. Isabelle leaned on the railing, breathing in the cool night air.
For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to cry.
The sobs came softly at first, then in waves that shook her. She pressed her hands to her belly, whispering apologies to the tiny life growing inside her.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she choked out. "I don't know how to keep you safe."
Behind her, she heard a door open.
She stiffened, wiping her tears quickly, but it was too late.
Sebastian stood there, his expression unreadable, but his eyes God, his eyes looked almost pained.
"Isabelle," he said quietly. "You don't have to hide it from me."
"I wasn't"
"You were," he said gently. "And you don't have to pretend you're not scared. I know what it's like to have the world turn its back on you."
She turned to him, startled. "You? You're untouchable."
He gave a humorless laugh. "Untouchable doesn't mean unbroken."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The night air carried the scent of rain and roses from the gardens below.
Finally, Sebastian stepped closer. "You're stronger than you think, Isabelle. But strength doesn't mean doing it alone."
She wanted to argue to tell him that she didn't trust him, that she didn't trust anyone but his voice softened, almost pleading.
"Let me be here," he said. "Not as your captor. As the man who can help you breathe again."
Her heart stuttered. He was too close, his presence too overwhelming. But something inside her broke.
Tears slid down her cheeks again, and this time, when he reached for her, she didn't pull away.
He gathered her against his chest, and she let him. For a moment, there were no secrets, no pride just the quiet ache of two people who'd both lost too much.
She felt the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her cheek, the warmth of his hand as it rested protectively on her back.
"I hate feeling weak," she whispered.
"You're not weak," he said. "You're surviving."
She drew back slightly, her eyes searching his. "Why do you care so much? What do you want from me, really?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Everything."
Her breath hitched. "You can't have that."
He smiled faintly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "We'll see."
Later that night, Isabelle lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling. She could still feel his warmth, his heartbeat.
It terrified her.
Because for the first time since the disaster of her wedding, she didn't feel entirely alone. And that, more than anything, scared her.
Sebastian Kane was dangerous not just to her reputation, but to her heart.
And yet, as she drifted into uneasy sleep, one truth clung to her like a whisper in the dark.
He might just be the only man capable of saving her or destroying her completely.