From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 285: Right to Keep You Here

Riley glanced at Sebastian beside her, then turned away. Her voice was cool and steady on the phone. "I'm not coming back tonight. I need to work late on Mr. Watson's project."

"Work late?" Lucas' tone hardened. "You can work at home. We have a study."

A faint, ironic smile touched Riley's lips.

Her reply was ice. "Could I possibly focus there? I can't even walk in the garden without getting hit by a ball."

Lucas fell silent for a beat, the jab finding its mark.

His response, when it came, was all bluster, a poor cover for the unease beneath. "That's not an argument. You are coming home tonight!"

"Don't you dare order me around!" Impatience sharpened her words.

Without waiting for a retort, Riley ended the call.

As she lowered the phone, she found Sebastian standing close.

His handsome features were set, eyes simmering with a controlled anger she hadn't expected. "You were hit?"

Surprise flickered through her, followed by a strange, warm flutter that she quickly tempered with a dose of awkwardness. He caught that?

"Yes. Last night. Sophia's son kicked a ball. It's nothing serious, just a bruise."

"Nothing serious?" His gaze turned arctic.

Sebastian didn't ask for permission. Cool fingers brushed her calf as he gently pushed up the leg of her pants.

The faint, tender touch stilled on the ugly patch of mottled purple and yellow blooming above her knee.

The air around him seemed to drop several degrees.

His fingers traced the edges of the bruise with gentleness, but his eyes held a razor-sharp coldness. "Seems I was right to keep you here tonight."

Sebastian knew all too well that the Ashford Manor had long ceased to be a sanctuary for Riley.

Caleb's presence did little to offset the reality that Sophia and her son had turned the place into a cage—one that was increasingly hostile.

Under the soft room light, the bruise looked stark and violent against her skin.

Sebastian fetched a tube of ointment.

His jaw was tight, the silent fury radiating from him enough to chill the entire space as he carefully applied the cool salve.

The relief from the lingering ache was immediate.

Watching his carefully contained rage, Riley felt a tangle of emotions knot in her chest.

Sebastian began again, his voice low, "What if I found a way to have Sophia and her son... relocated?"

Warmth bloomed in her heart at the offer, but she gave a slight, resigned shake of her head. "It's not necessary. I... won't be staying much longer anyway."

His ministrations paused. He looked up, his deep gaze searching hers for a long moment.

Then he asked no questions, simply finished tending to the bruise in silence before guiding her to a guest room.

"Rest here tonight. Call if you need anything," he said, lingering at the threshold, maintaining a deliberate distance.

Perhaps fearing he might seem too forward or push his luck, he maintained a gentlemanly distance even after confessing his feelings.

Riley nodded. As the door clicked shut, the agitation Lucas had stirred miraculously quieted, soothed by Sebastian's unexpected, respectful care.

The peace, however, was fleeting. Soon after she lay down, the low growl of a car engine cut through the night silence outside.

Who could that be at this hour?

A sense of foreboding prickled her skin.

Riley moved to the window, drawing the curtain back just enough to peer out.

Lucas' car was parked squarely in front of her townhouse driveway.

He rarely pursued her like this.

As she frowned, her phone screen lit up with a message from Lydia.

It was a photo. The background was an upscale steakhouse. In it, Sophia was leaning in, offering a piece of steak from her fork to Lucas' mouth with intimate familiarity.

A voice message followed, Lydia's tone furious, "Look at these two! How dare they sneak out for a cozy dinner behind your back! I'm fuming!"

Riley studied the photo's angle, then looked back at the car below. The pieces snapped together with cold clarity.

If Lydia could capture that moment, she must have been dining nearby, too.

That meant Lucas could have easily spotted Lydia as well.

Spotting Lydia would unravel Riley's alibi about their girls' night in an instant.

He wasn't just checking on her. He was here to catch her in the lie.

On cue, Lucas strode to her front door and jabbed the bell.

The chime echoed, shrill and intrusive, in the quiet night.

No answer came.

With each passing second, his patience visibly frayed.

The realization that she wasn't home—that she had lied—settled in.

His movements grew jerky, frantic. Lucas abandoned the bell, fist pounding against the solid wood. The sound was heavy, laden with uncontrollable rage.

From her window, Riley watched the scene below with detached coldness. Then, phone in hand, she calmly dialed the property management center.