From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 246: Vulnerability

"Sebastian, are you feeling really awful right now?"

The man buried his face against her stomach, trembling faintly, but didn't answer.

He just held her tighter, and his muffled voice rose from her abdomen, carrying a hint of unease even he didn't seem to notice. "Riley... will you look down on me because of this?"

He asked so earnestly, so uncertainly, that Riley's heart ached all over again.

She let out a soft, warm laugh—not mocking, just tender and a little helpless. "What would I look down on you for? For getting sick and acting like a kid who needs comforting?"

She paused. "Wasn't I way worse than you last night? And you never judged me for it. Everyone gets sick, Sebastian. Did you really think you were made of steel?"

Her words melted slowly into his tense nerves like a gentle medicine.

Sebastian's stiff frame finally relaxed a little. He nuzzled his face into the soft fabric of her clothes, as if drawing strength from her warmth, then murmured, even more quietly, "You said you wouldn't look down on me. I'm holding you to that."

Hearing that almost clingy tone, Riley felt a sudden, strange sense of familiarity.

It was like something similar had happened a long time ago.

Like someone else had once spoken to her in that same fragile, serious way... but those memories were too distant, too broken to piece together now.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The apartment stayed quiet, and Riley let him hold her.

Time seemed to slow in that stillness, until Sebastian's fever seemed to dip slightly.

He appeared to be feeling a bit better. Slowly, he lifted his head, though his arms stayed wrapped around her waist.

Leaning back against the headboard, he kept her hand in his, his gaze calm and steady. Finally, he answered the question she'd asked earlier.

"When I was a kid... I wasn't exactly healthy.

"My parents had just taken over the company. They were swamped, never really around. Every time I got sick, they'd either leave me with the family doctor or send me straight to the private hospital.

"But weirdly, I never felt better there. If anything... I felt worse. All those cold machines, the sterile smell—it was more suffocating than being sick.

"It wasn't until later that my mom finally noticed something was off with me. That's when she started having Regina look after me instead."

Sebastian's voice was low in the quiet room. He didn't spell out exactly what that "something off" had been, but Riley understood right away.

It clicked almost immediately.

This was probably the hidden struggle Aiden had hinted at—not a physical illness, but a wound from childhood loneliness and fear.

A kid, left alone in a clinical space full of disinfectant and noise, with no family beside him... just routine checks and cold needles.

That kind of helplessness, that feeling of being left behind—it could break a child's trust in the world.

The softest part of Riley's heart felt gently bruised, sending waves of quiet ache through her.

Kids were all the same deep down, no matter how privileged their upbringing or how much they had. Once they lost that sense of being cared for, of being safe with family, they were all just fragile.

Because she'd been through those dark, desperate times too.

Her thoughts drifted back—way back.

Not long after she'd first arrived at the orphanage, back when she was just a little girl with no memories except her name, Riley, and nothing else.

The unfamiliar place, the unfamiliar faces... she'd been like a scared hedgehog, all spikes and no softness.

She was insecure, withdrawn, quick to lash out. She wouldn't let anyone come near.

Back then, her safe place was an old wooden wardrobe in her room.

Every day, she'd curl up inside that small, dark space that smelled of cedar and mothballs, as if hiding could shut the whole world out.

Whenever someone tried to open the wardrobe door, she'd scream—a raw, sharp sound—and fight like something wild.

It was the woman who ran the place who never gave up on her. Day after day, she'd sit by that wardrobe and talk to Riley in the gentlest voice. She'd leave warm meals by the door, then walk away so Riley could eat without fear.

Day after day, year after year... it was that kind of patient, no-strings-attached warmth that slowly, slowly drew Riley out of that dark, closed-off world.

Without her, Riley knew she wouldn't be who she was today—maybe not even fully whole.

Coming back to the present, Riley looked at Sebastian with a deep, complicated understanding in her eyes.

They really weren't so different.

Just then, Sebastian—who had been quiet for so long—stirred. It was like he'd remembered something. He lifted his eyes to hers and said, his voice still rough, "You haven't had dinner yet."