Chapter 7 - The Reckoning
The aftermath of Arthur Vale's arrest was a whirlwind that rocked the global financial markets.
Over the next two weeks, the media erupted into a frenzy. News of the secret marriage, the fake death certificate, and the dramatic midnight raid on Billionaires' Row dominated every major network. The Vale family name was dragged through the mud, but Sebastian didn't care.
He spent every single day at the penthouse, leaving corporate affairs entirely in Marcus's hands while he focused on a far more difficult task: learning how to be a father.
It was a clumsy, heartbreakingly earnest process.
The man who had negotiated billion-dollar deals with foreign governments was completely out of his depth when it came to three four-year-olds.
"Maya, is Owen supposed to throw his pancakes at the ceiling?" Sebastian asked on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the kitchen island with syrup splattered across his pristine white silk shirt, looking hopelessly panicked.
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped my lips as I walked into the kitchen, holding a wet towel. "Only when he thinks the syrup looks like monster blood. Hand him the paper towels, Sebastian. Don't negotiate with him."
"I offered him a trust fund if he ate two bites of fruit," Sebastian muttered, wiping his cheek as Owen giggled hysterically from his high chair.
"He's four, Sebastian. He doesn't know what a trust fund is," I said, leaning over to wipe Owen's sticky hands.
As I worked, I felt Sebastian's intense, warm gaze resting on me. I looked up to find him staring at me with a soft, quiet reverence that made my breath hitch in my throat.
"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious in my oversized grey sweatshirt and messy hair.
"You're beautiful," Sebastian said quietly, taking a step closer to me. "You were beautiful when you were twenty-two, working in that coffee shop near campus... but now... seeing you with them... you're incredible, Maya."
I lowered the towel, my heart hammering against my ribs. The tension that had existed between us for the last two weeks—the fear, the unresolved grief, the ancient anger—seemed to soften under the warm sunlight pouring through the penthouse windows.
"I'm still angry at you, Sebastian," I whispered, though there was no real bite left in my voice. "For not searching harder. For letting him convince you."
"I know," Sebastian reached out, his hand gently resting against the side of my face, his thumb softly stroking my cheekbone. "And I will spend the rest of my life earning your trust back. I don't expect you to forgive me today, or next month, or even next year. But please... don't leave again."
I closed my eyes, leaning slightly into the warm palm of his hand. "I can't go back to Queens, Sebastian. The kids love the park... they love having space to run."
"Then stay here," he whispered, his face hovering inches from mine. "This penthouse isn't mine anymore, Maya. I transferred the deed to your name yesterday morning. The company, the estates, the trusts... everything has been placed under a master holding account owned exclusively by you and the triplets. I am working for you now."
May you like
I opened my eyes, staring at him in utter disbelief. "You gave me the empire?"
"I gave you what was always yours," Sebastian said softly. "I don't care about the money, Maya. I only care about the family we were supposed to have."
