Harper’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Actually, Sebastian, this could be incredibly valuable. You have this massive platform now—people are genuinely listening to you. You could use this to push for real reform, keep the pressure on—”
“No.” Sebastian’s response was immediate and sharp. He didn’t look up from his Lego ship. “Absolutely not.”
“What do you mean, no?” Harper’s voice had that edge it got when she was gearing up for an argument. “This is exactly the kind of opportunity—”
“I’m done, Harper.” Sebastian finally looked at her, his jaw set. “I’ve given enough of my life to this.”
Harper set down her phone, her eyes flashing. “So you’re just going to walk away? Retreat into your comfortable townhouse and pretend none of this matters?”
“This isn’t retreat—it’s strategy. The moment I become the public face of reform, I become the story instead of the issues. Charles’s bastard son with an agenda? That’s all they’ll see. Besides, I still have all the legal cases to contend with.” Sebastian’s voice was getting cooler, more controlled—a sure sign he was getting defensive.
“But you could bring more attention to theissues—”
“I could also have a normal life for once,” Sebastian shot back. “Something you seem to take for granted.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Harper’s smile had completely disappeared. The silence that followed was pointed.
Harper’s voice was carefully neutral when she spoke again. “So, how exactly are you funding your “normal life”… I heard you offered to turn over everything you ever received from Charles, all the Hawthorne assets and funds, to the victims of the Foundation’s schemes.”
Sebastian paused, looking up from his starship. He set down the Lego piece he was holding and picked up his coffee cup, swirling the contents thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, I’m not doing anything terribly noble.” He took a sip and paused, looking almost embarrassed.
He seemed a little hesitant, almost sheepish. “You’ve met Jérôme, so you already know my mother wasn’t exactly struggling,” Sebastian said. “I’ve had a separate inheritance from her side for years. Most of it tied up in a trust—Jérôme made sure Charles couldn’t touch it. But even the portion I could access gave me enough to live independently. After Charles cut me off one too many times, I just… stopped relying on him. I could at least afford to ignore some of his threats, which drove him mad.”
He shrugged, a gesture of profound unburdening. “So, giving up the Hawthorne inheritance? It’s not even a real sacrifice, Harper. It’s just a—final severing. I don’t need it. I never truly did, and I certainly don’t want it now.”
“So, you’ve pivoted from aristocrat to trust fund brat?” Harper mused, but there was a sharp undertone to her teasing now.
“Something like that,” Sebastian admitted, with a shrug. “Though I generally prefer ‘guy who occasionally overspends on rare books and decent wine.’” He looked around the room, at the sunlight pouring in, the ridiculous Lego model, and at Harper. “The point is, I’m free of him. Of the name. Of the weight of it all. And that’s worth more than any amount Charles ever hoarded.”
“But free to do what, exactly?” Harper’s question hung in the air like a challenge. “Hide away in your library?”
Sebastian’s hands stilled on the Lego pieces. “I’m done being a public spectacle. I’m not done with the work—I’m just doing it properly now. Behind closed doors, where it actually matters.”
Harper let the silence stretch. The comfortable intimacy of the morning had evaporated, leaving something that felt more tense than peaceful. What had been a war room, cluttered with charts, timelines, and the ghosts of sleepless nights, now felt like a stage set for an argument neither of them quite wanted to have.
Ethan arrived not long after, finding Sebastian and Harper in the library sitting at opposite ends of the room.
“Well, well,” Ethan said, settling into a chair with his characteristic grin. “Did I interrupt something? Because the vibe in here is intense.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Harper said tersely.
“We were just talking,” Sebastian added, pouring three glasses of deep amber whiskey from a crystal decanter with perhaps more force than necessary.
“Okay…” Ethan said, accepting his drink. He took a sip. “Nice. Is this whiskey another little parting gift from our dear, departed Charles?”
“Consider it reparations,” Sebastian said, raising his glass with quiet gravity. “To Sarah Chen. For her courage—and because we owe it to her to make sure she lands somewhere better. We’ll help her find something worthy of what she gave up.”
“To Sarah,” Harper echoed, her throat tight with emotion.
“And to Harper,” Sebastian continued, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of his tumbler. “For her relentless pursuit of the truth.”
There was something pointed in the way he said ‘relentless’ that made Harper’s jaw tighten slightly.
Ethan raised his glass higher. “To chaotic good,” he chimed in, “and to the beautiful, beautiful chaos I unleashed on Hawthorne’s digital ghost.” He took a long, satisfying sip before reaching for his tablet. “Speaking of which, I have updates. Plural.”
He swiped through a series of screens, a darkly humorous glint in his eyes. “Total asset freeze: successful. Offshore accounts: locked. Digitalinfrastructure: dismantled. The man is a financial phantom.” He paused, looking immensely pleased with himself. “And as a little bonus, I bought his cars.”
Sebastian blinked. “Wait. What? All of them?”