Page 9 of Forever His Favorite
Alexander only smirked, leaning back in his seat, unbothered. “If your wife finds out about your little crush that’s been going on for years…” He leaned closer, taunting. “Do you think she’ll divorce you for tricking her into marriage?”
Sebastian turned his face away from his brother, expression unreadable. His fingers toyed with the band on his hand—the very same ring Emily had once given him years ago. The cold metal glinted faintly under the dashboard lights.
“She’ll never know.”
Alexander’s lips twitched, but he held back the smile, tilting his head instead. “You’re leaving for three nights? The Greece project?”
Sebastian gave a short nod.
Alexander’s brows arched. “Now that you’ve married her, can you really leave her behind for days? Right after marriage?”
Sebastian’s eyes half-lidded, his voice calm but edged with restraint. “I have to go alone. I don’t want to scare her with my demands so soon.”
Alexander shifted closer in the driver’s seat, his voice lowering, conspiratorial. “She’s a designer, isn’t she? Why not pull her out of her current workplace and tie her business into yours? Expand her work through your projects. That way, she’ll have to travel with you whenever you go overseas for work.”
Sebastian stared at him for a long beat, the corner of his mouth tightening as if holding back a laugh. Finally, a flicker of dry amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Remind me again—what was the point of sending you to our grandparents’ house in that village to ‘improve your character’ when we were kids? You’re still just as evil and cunning as you were back then.”
Alexander smirked proudly, unashamed, as if the accusation were a compliment.
Sebastian reached into his jacket, pulling out his phone. With practiced ease, he scrolled and pressed a number. The call connected after a few rings.
His tone shifted instantly, crisp and commanding. “Mr. Nox, I need a favor.”
***
The doors to the hospital room swung open with a sharp creak, the fluorescent lights spilling harshly over the sterile white walls. Dillon strode in, his steps brisk, the soles of his shoes clicking against the tiled floor. “Mr. Cantrell, you’re awake!” heexclaimed, his voice laced with relief but edged with urgency, his gaze locking on Lucas, who was propped up weakly on the bed.
Lucas’s eyes were open, but the heaviness in them betrayed his fatigue. His breathing came unevenly, the faint beeping of the heart monitor underscoring his fragile state. Dillon’s shoulders eased slightly, though the tight line of worry didn’t leave his face.
“It’s good… After you collapsed at home, you only came to briefly when I called Miss Crawford. Since then, you’ve been unconscious for three days. The doctors weren’t sure what would happen…” His voice trailed, heavy with concern.
Lucas didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes darted rapidly across the room—the side table, the chair, the counter—searching, restless, desperate.
“What happened, Mr. Cantrell?” Dillon asked, stepping closer.
Lucas snapped his gaze toward him, eyes blazing with an intensity that cut like glass. “Where is my phone?” His voice cracked with urgency, almost a snarl.
Startled, Dillon fumbled into his pocket, retrieving the phone. The device barely touched his palm before Lucas snatched it, his fingers trembling as he unlocked it. The faint glow of the screen lit his face as he scrolled. His chest rose and fell rapidly, tension rippling through his frame.
His thumb froze. The photographs and posts on Emily’s profile stared back at him—her smile, her family, and Sebastian at her side.
A cold rush swept through him.
His hand instinctively pressed against his chest, the air choking in his throat. “So it wasn’t a dream…” he muttered hoarsely, disbelief and panic colliding in his voice.
“Mr. Cantrell, are you alright?” Dillon quickly grabbed the water from the table, stepping forward, glass trembling slightly in his hand.
Lucas’s arm shot out, knocking the glass violently aside. It crashed to the ground, water splattering across the white floor as shards scattered in every direction. The sound rang sharp, pulling startled glances from nurses passing the corridor outside.
But Lucas didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to the screen, locked on Emily’s latest post about Amelia. Every word burned into him. His chest heaved, heart clenching as his thoughts spiraled.
‘All these years… I never believed her. She said it so many times, and I still refused. I let Amelia steal everything Emily created?’
The wordEmpresson the screen blurred as tears stung his eyes. His throat worked, his voice breaking as memories clawed at him.
No wonder every design Emily had ever created for him had been a bestseller, always admired, always praised. She had worked tirelessly as his designer for years. But the moment Amelia entered his projects—Emily started accusing her—and everything shifted. Emily’s brilliance dimmed, her spark vanished, and he hadn’t even noticed the exact moment she stopped designing altogether.
“It was Amelia. She stole from her. And I… I refused to believe…” His whisper was jagged, his face twisted with regret, his shoulders shaking faintly as he buried his pain into the phone’s screen.
