I woke up with a groggy groan, tangled in Faye's ridiculously soft sheets and surrounded by the smell of strawberries and overpriced hair products.
For one stupid, fleeting second, I forgot everything. The arranged marriage. The cold glint in my father's eyes. The DeLuca bastard's smirk burned into my memory.
Just silence, warmth, and the faint sound of Faye mumbling something inappropriate in her sleep.
I picked up my phone, expecting some bossy texts from Sebastian about how I needed to be back at the mansion. Maybe a guilt trip or two, some of that signature Sebastian sass like, "Your father didn't raise a runaway." But instead, what greeted me was ten missed calls.
Ten.
All from him.
My brows furrowed. Sebastian never called. Ever. That man once told me phone calls were "dramatic and unnecessary." So, if he called me ten times?
Something wasn't right.
My chest tightened.
I shook Faye awake.
She groaned, "Five more minutes…"
"Faye. Sebastian called me."
She sat up instantly, eyes wide. "Wait. Sebastian called? Are you serious?"
I nodded, already slipping my feet into my flats. My heart was racing, and I didn't know why.
"You think something happened?" she whispered, her voice suddenly small.
"I… I don't know. Probably not. Maybe it's about me sneaking off."
But even as I said it, the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. My gut twisted painfully.
"I'll come with you," she said, getting out of bed.
"No. No, it's fine. I'll be back soon. It's probably nothing."
I didn't even change out of my silk pajamas. I just grabbed my phone, keys, and drove—fast. Everything in me buzzed with unease, but I told myself I was overthinking.
It's Sebastian. He's just being dramatic. Right?
The mansion stood quiet when I arrived. Too quiet. Like it knew something I didn't.
Mary opened the door. "Good morning, Miss."
"Where's Sebastian?" I asked, breathless.
"In your father's office. East wing."
I nodded and stepped inside, trying not to panic. Everything looked normal. Staff going about their day. No screaming. No chaos. No blood.
So why was my heart breaking already?
"Wow, cuz. You couldn't even bother to wear a bra?" Laura's voice rang out from the hallway.
I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
Her voice was background noise now—like the ticking of a bomb I hadn't noticed until now.
I reached my father's office. The doors loomed in front of me like the gates of something final. My hand shook as I reached for the handle.
It's fine, I lied to myself. He's probably in there. He'll scold me. I'll roll my eyes. Everything will be fine.
I opened the door.
Sebastian was pacing the room, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed and tired. He looked like a man who'd aged ten years in a night.
He turned toward me the second I entered.
"Sebastian?" My voice cracked.
He didn't speak.
I looked past him. The desk was empty.
My father's chair—empty.
"Where's my dad?"
Silence.
I took a step forward. "Sebastian. Where is he?"
His lips parted, but no words came.
"Is he mad at me?" My voice trembled. "Because I left? Because of the fight last night? Please, I didn't mean to—I was just mad—"
"Miss Aliana," Sebastian said gently.
And suddenly, I knew.
I felt my knees weaken. "No," I whispered. "Don't. Don't say it. Please, Sebastian, please."
"Your father… He passed away last night."
The world tilted. The air disappeared. The ground cracked.
I screamed.
"No! No, no, no!" My legs gave out, and Sebastian caught me just before I hit the floor.
"Please," I sobbed. "Please tell me he's okay. Tell me he's at the hospital or—he's hiding or—tell me anything else!"
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding me as I clung to him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry, Miss."
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I was shaking so hard, I thought I'd break apart.
"We fought last night," I cried into his chest. "I told him I hated him. I told him I didn't want to be his daughter. And now he's—he's—"
Sebastian pulled me tighter. I could feel his own chest shuddering, like he was holding back his grief for my sake.
"I didn't get to say sorry," I whispered. "I didn't get to say goodbye."
"I know," he said. "I know, Miss."
"I was supposed to be his heir," I sobbed. "I was supposed to protect everything. I didn't even protect him."
"You couldn't have known," he murmured. "No one could've known."
But I didn't believe him. I couldn't.
I didn't care about the empire. I didn't care about the damn Rivera name.
I just wanted my dad.
I wanted one more hug. One more fight. One more anything.
My father was gone. And I had wasted our last moment together yelling at him. Walking away.
Now, he was gone.
And I was too late.