Chapter 11

At three in the morning, Isabella Whitlock’s fever finally broke.

Sebastian Sinclair gently tucked the blanket around her before quietly stepping out onto the balcony. The night breeze was cool against his skin as he pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before typing a message to Eleanor Knight.

“Babe, something came up tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you feeling alright? Should I send a doctor over?”

The screen remained dark. No reply. Normally, she responded instantly, but tonight, there was only silence. Frowning, Sebastian assumed she must have already fallen asleep and decided not to disturb her further.

He rubbed his temples and skimmed through a few work emails before absentmindedly scrolling through social media. His feed was flooded with vacation photos, but then a series of engagement videos caught his eye.

In one clip, a man in a sharp suit knelt on one knee. Sebastian squinted—something about him seemed familiar. Just as he was about to exit, the camera panned to the woman’s retreating figure.

Sebastian straightened abruptly, bringing the phone closer. That silhouette… it looked just like Eleanor.

He shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. She still wore her wedding ring—there was no way she’d accept someone else’s proposal. He must be seeing things.

After tapping a like, a cough sounded from the hospital room. Sebastian immediately set his phone aside and hurried back inside.

Isabella woke intermittently throughout the night, and Sebastian stayed by her side, vigilant in case her fever returned. By dawn, he called his secretary to take over before driving home.

When he pushed open the door to his mansion, an unsettling emptiness greeted him. Standing in the foyer, his frown deepened.

The display cabinets in the living room were bare. The fine china from the dining cabinet had vanished. Even the throw pillows and stuffed toys that usually adorned the couch were gone.

He took the stairs two at a time and threw open the bedroom door—only to freeze at the sight before him.

The walk-in closet held nothing but a few of his suits, hanging in lonely silence. The vanity was stripped clean, not a single lipstick left behind. The bedside table no longer held her favorite nightlight.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. He pulled out his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he dialed the housekeeper.

“Did Eleanor move out? Why wasn’t I informed?” His voice was ice-cold.

“Sir, you said… no matter what she did, not to disturb you…” the housekeeper stammered. “The Knight family sent a car for her. She must have gone back to her parents’ house.”

Sebastian clenched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, the video from last night flashed through his mind—and a terrible realization struck him.