Hawthorne moved slowly to his desk and picked up his phone, pressing a single number on speed dial.
Miles watched, half-anxious, half-fascinated. He’d seen the Earl gut political careers over dinner. Whatever was about to happen—he wouldn’t look away.
The call rang once.
Twice.
“Father,” Sebastian’s voice answered, lazy and unbothered as ever. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Or is this just your weekly reminder that love is a weakness and so is democracy?”
“I’m not in the mood for games,” Hawthorne said flatly.
A pause. Sebastian’s tone shifted, the lazy amusement cooling. “Ah. So this is that kind of call.”
“I know you posted that meme.”
“Really? That’s what you’re mad about?”
“It’s about what it represents, Sebastian. Whose side you’re really on. Don’t forget what I’ve given you.”
Sebastian’s voice lost some of its silk. “How could I, when you constantly remind me?” A sound suggested he was pacing. “You’ve given me assignments dressed as trust. You taught me how to lie, how to bury, how to disappear problems. And now you have the nerve to try and make me thank you for it.”
“And now you oweAlexander?”
“No.” Sebastian’s tone wasn’t defiant—it was tired. Honest. “I owe myself. And maybe, for once, I want to be useful to someone who isn’t sharpening a knife behind my back just to see how deep it can go.”
A long, thin silence stretched between them.
Then Hawthorne’s voice dropped to that slow, clinical chill he saved for enemies and heirs.
“Be careful who you think is safe. You’ve built your life in shadows, Sebastian. You don’t get to play at sincerity now.”
“I’m not playing.”
“Do you think the palace can afford to keep you around once they realize what you’ve done for me? What you’ve cleaned up?”
Sebastian didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch. Just let the words wash over him like water over stone.
“Said the man who’s never trusted anyone in his life.”
Charles laughed, “After everything I’ve taught you, you’re really still this naive?”
“Even if everyone cuts me out of their life, it will still be infinitely better than playing your sick little games.”
“I’ve also heard you’ve been talking to your uncle,” Charles continued.
“He’s the onlyrealfamily I have left.” Sebastian said simply. “You tried to cut me off from him after I moved here.”
“Please, Sebastian. He was Maddy’s party boy younger brother. It wasn’t as if he was going to raise you.” Charles paused, the hint of a sneer in his voice. “Your sentimentality will be your undoing.Just like it was for your mother.”
And finally, Sebastian said it.
No bravado. No theatrical fury. Just a low, cutting truth.
“Go to hell Charles.” Sebastian said just before he hung up.
The line went dead, and so did the moment.
For a moment, the only sound was the grandfather clock, its ticks slicing through the silence. Charles set the phone down, his knuckles whitening briefly.