From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 172: Buried Truths

After all, he'd come all the way here on an empty stomach and waited in the rain—ultimately, it was because of her.

She got up, walked to the refrigerator, and pulled the door open.

Under the cool white light, the inside was nearly bare—just a few eggs and a bundle of dried pasta sitting alone in the corner.

She glanced over at the man on the sofa watching her and said, a little helplessly, "How about I make you some pasta then? I brought back some takeout too, so you can just make do with that, okay?"

"Okay."

Sebastian didn't complain at all. He agreed right away.

He watched as Riley closed the fridge, grabbed an apron from the cabinet with familiar ease, tied it around herself, and turned toward the small open kitchen to start getting things ready for him.

Under the warm glow of the kitchen light, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing slender, pale wrists, and bent her head to focus on boiling the pasta. The soft light traced the curve of her profile.

For that moment, the storm outside, all the corporate maneuvering, and the endless family drama seemed to fade into the background.

Without even realizing it, the usual sharp chill in Sebastian's gaze softened into something deep and gentle.

Riley wasn't much of a cook.

Truth be told, ever since marrying Lucas, she hardly ever stepped into the kitchen.

The few simple dishes she'd once learned had faded from memory after one discouraging day after another.

So even with something as basic as pasta, she only knew one or two of the simplest ways to prepare it.

In the open kitchen, the only sound was the steady hum of the range hood.

Water bubbled and rolled in the pot. She dropped the pasta in, watched it slowly soften, then cracked an egg into the simmering water.

No broth, no vegetables, not even a sprinkle of herbs.

About ten minutes later, she set a plate of just about the plainest pasta imaginable in front of Sebastian.

Floating in the clear broth was a fairly round fried egg, with a few strands of pasta tucked beneath it.

But Sebastian simply picked up his fork without a word and began eating as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.

He ate with restraint, properly, without making unnecessary noise. Good manners were etched into every movement.

Riley sat across from him, watching him quietly bring the pasta to his mouth, and felt a faint, unexpected flutter of nerves.

She couldn't help asking, "How is it?"

Sebastian swallowed what was in his mouth, dabbed his lips with a napkin, then looked up with those eyes and offered an honest assessment. "Not bad. A little on the plain side."

Then, as if remembering something, he paused briefly before adding unprompted, "My aunt Regina used to make pasta like this for me, back in the day."

His tone was even, but there was a touch of nostalgia resting underneath.

"She didn't cook often either, so she could never quite get the seasoning right."

The sudden shift in topic caught Riley off guard.

She picked up on the name and a thought crossed her mind. Cautiously, she asked, "Your aunt Regina... is she—?"

"Yes," he finished for her, his voice calm. "She was Aiden's mother."

Riley caught the warmth in Sebastian's eyes and heard herself say, "Sounds like you two were close."

"Yeah." He nodded, not denying it.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, like a thick layer of soundtrack to this late-night conversation.

"When I was really young, my parents were wrapped up with the family business. My mom asked Regina to come help look after me. You could say I spent most of my childhood with her.

"Back then, the Quinn family's company wasn't doing well. My uncle kept pushing Regina to ask for contracts from Torres Group to help them out. But Regina knew the Quinns weren't in any shape to handle a project that size at the time—taking it on would've sunk them. So she hardly ever brought it up with my parents.

"My uncle was furious about it. He'd badmouth my aunt right in front of Aiden—saying she'd turned her back on her humble roots after marrying into the wealthy Torres family, that she was nothing but a social climber who'd forgotten where she came from. He even claimed she doted more on me, her nephew, than her own flesh-and-blood son.

"So Aiden and I never really got along, even as kids."

He stopped there, picked up his Coke, and took a sip. The cold drink seemed to settle his tangled thoughts, if only a little.

The unfinished story hung in the air, and Riley found herself drawn in.

She couldn't help but ask, "What happened after that?"

Hearing her voice, Sebastian slowly turned his head. Something in his gaze seemed to quietly fray at the edges.

"Later, just before I turned eighteen, I was nearly kidnapped.

"My aunt Regina... when she tried to get me out, she was hit hard by the kidnappers' car. They couldn't save her.

"Right before she died, she held my hand and asked me... to look after Aiden for her.

"But," Sebastian's mouth tightened slightly, "Aiden believes I'm the reason his mother died. So from that day on, all he's felt for me is hate."