Before I could react, Mr. Webb lunged for my phone. My fingers brushed it—but then it was gone.
“Give it back!” I snapped.
Celeste snatched it with a triumphant smirk, retreating just enough to mock me fully. “Look at you, so nervous. Clearly, there’s more you don’t want anyone seeing.”
She turned to Sebastian, prompting him to try unlocking it. They tested every possible code—his birthday, mine, even the day we had first acknowledged each other as partners in the family—but the device stayed locked. Sebastian’s patience snapped. He ripped the phone from her hands and barked at the security men to restrain me.
He tried the facial recognition feature—but multiple failures forced the system to default to the passcode.
“What’s the password?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.
Since the day we had formally aligned, the passcode had always been the date he first admitted his feelings. I could almost smile at the irony—he had forgotten. Not surprising.
Failing to access my phone in front of the family only deepened his humiliation. His pride crumbled, his expression darkening as a storm of rage built within him, second by second.
“You keep insisting those photos were a misunderstanding—so why change your password?” he spat, irritation heavy in every word.
“It’s the date you first confessed to me,” I said, calm, steady.
Sebastian froze, struggling to recall that moment. His expression twisted into a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to regret—a masterpiece of emotion undone.
I wrenched free from the guards’ grip, snatching my phone back. Sebastian watched in silence as I unlocked it effortlessly. His lips parted, as if to speak—but no words came. The tension between us hung heavy, like a winter storm frozen over the family estate.
Without a second of warning, Sebastian lunged forward and tore my phone straight from my hands. His thumb flew violently across the screen, movements sharp, frantic, and fueled by rage as he scrolled with a single-minded purpose—hunting for proof of a betrayal he had already sentenced me for in his mind.
Then his movements stopped.
His entire body stiffened, shoulders locking as his eyes fixed on a single image. A close-up photograph filled the screen—me standing shoulder to shoulder with a man, our faces unmistakably clear beneath the cold glow of a streetlight outside a private club.
My brother.