Chapter 38 Free at Last
Free at Last
Sunlight, unfiltered and bold, streamed into Sebastian’s townhouse living room.
The heavy curtains, once perpetually half-drawn against paparazzi and the weight of secrets, were now thrown wide open, embracing the May morning.
The air in the room felt different—lighter, somehow.
Sebastian, dressed in a simple button down shirt and dark jeans, was attempting to assemble a surprisingly complex Lego model of the Millennium Falcon on the coffee table, a half-eaten croissant and a cooling cup of coffee beside him. He looked younger, more carefree.
Harper watched him from the armchair, a small smile playing on her lips. She was scrolling through her phone, an amused expression on her face.
“Brace yourself,” she said, without looking up. “The internet has officially lost its collective mind over you.”
Sebastian glanced up from a particularly stubborn Lego piece. “Oh no. What fresh hell have they unleashed now?”
“This one just went viral,” Harper said, reading a tweet aloud with theatrical gravity.
“‘He’s a 10, but he was raised by a sociopathic aristocrat who used him as a political pawn, so he developed a devastating sense of humor and a crippling fear of emotional intimacy as a defense mechanism… so he’s a 20 and I think I can fix him. ’”
Sebastian stared. “They’re psychoanalyzing me based on a ninety-second press conference? That’s terrifying. And… strangely flattering?”
“It’s the internet. All it takes is one brooding glance and a tragic backstory.”
“It gets worse,” Harper said, swiping. “The prevailing hashtag isn’t just #Rousseau. It’s #BastardPrinceEnergy. It’s being used on everything from thirst traps to videos of raccoons stealing pies from windowsills.”
“I… what?”
“They’re calling it ‘chaotic good with a hint of existential despair,’” she clarified, as if that explained anything.
Harper’s smile sharpened. “I give them two days before someone starts a petition to knight you.”
He shook his head, though a smile was firmly in place.
“Ridiculous. Still, it’s a damn sight better than being ‘Viscount Disaster,’ or whatever charming tabloid nickname they usually run with.
” He finally clicked the rebellious piece into place on the Lego ship.
“There. One step closer to defeating the Empire.”
Harper’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Actually, Sebastian, this could be incredibly valuable. You have this massive platform now—people are genuinely listening to you. You could use this to push for real reform, keep the pressure on—”
“No.” Sebastian’s response was immediate and sharp. He didn’t look up from his Lego ship. “Absolutely not.”
“What do you mean, no?” Harper’s voice had that edge it got when she was gearing up for an argument. “This is exactly the kind of opportunity—”
“I’m done, Harper.” Sebastian finally looked at her, his jaw set. “I’ve given enough of my life to this.”
Harper set down her phone, her eyes flashing. “So you’re just going to walk away? Retreat into your comfortable townhouse and pretend none of this matters?”
“This isn’t retreat—it’s strategy. The moment I become the public face of reform, I become the story instead of the issues.
Charles’s bastard son with an agenda? That’s all they’ll see.
Besides, I still have all the legal cases to contend with.
” Sebastian’s voice was getting cooler, more controlled—a sure sign he was getting defensive.
“But you could bring more attention to the issues—”
“I could also have a normal life for once,” Sebastian shot back. “Something you seem to take for granted.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Harper’s smile had completely disappeared. The silence that followed was pointed.
Harper’s voice was carefully neutral when she spoke again. “So, how exactly are you funding your “normal life”… I heard you offered to turn over everything you ever received from Charles, all the Hawthorne assets and funds, to the victims of the Foundation’s schemes.”
Sebastian paused, looking up from his starship. He set down the Lego piece he was holding and picked up his coffee cup, swirling the contents thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, I’m not doing anything terribly noble.” He took a sip and paused, looking almost embarrassed.
He seemed a little hesitant, almost sheepish.
“You’ve met Jér?me, so you already know my mother wasn’t exactly struggling,” Sebastian said.
“I’ve had a separate inheritance from her side for years.
Most of it tied up in a trust—Jér?me made sure Charles couldn’t touch it.
But even the portion I could access gave me enough to live independently.
After Charles cut me off one too many times, I just…
stopped relying on him. I could at least afford to ignore some of his threats, which drove him mad. ”
He shrugged, a gesture of profound unburdening. “So, giving up the Hawthorne inheritance? It’s not even a real sacrifice, Harper. It’s just a—final severing. I don’t need it. I never truly did, and I certainly don’t want it now.”
“So, you’ve pivoted from aristocrat to trust fund brat?” Harper mused, but there was a sharp undertone to her teasing now.
“Something like that,” Sebastian admitted, with a shrug.
“Though I generally prefer ‘guy who occasionally overspends on rare books and decent wine.’” He looked around the room, at the sunlight pouring in, the ridiculous Lego model, and at Harper.
“The point is, I’m free of him. Of the name.
Of the weight of it all. And that’s worth more than any amount Charles ever hoarded. ”
“But free to do what, exactly?” Harper’s question hung in the air like a challenge. “Hide away in your library?”
Sebastian’s hands stilled on the Lego pieces. “I’m done being a public spectacle. I’m not done with the work—I’m just doing it properly now. Behind closed doors, where it actually matters.”
Harper let the silence stretch. The comfortable intimacy of the morning had evaporated, leaving something that felt more tense than peaceful.
What had been a war room, cluttered with charts, timelines, and the ghosts of sleepless nights, now felt like a stage set for an argument neither of them quite wanted to have.
Ethan arrived not long after, finding Sebastian and Harper in the library sitting at opposite ends of the room.
“Well, well,” Ethan said, settling into a chair with his characteristic grin. “Did I interrupt something? Because the vibe in here is intense.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Harper said tersely.
“We were just talking,” Sebastian added, pouring three glasses of deep amber whiskey from a crystal decanter with perhaps more force than necessary.
“Okay…” Ethan said, accepting his drink. He took a sip. “Nice. Is this whiskey another little parting gift from our dear, departed Charles?”
“Consider it reparations,” Sebastian said, raising his glass with quiet gravity. “To Sarah Chen. For her courage—and because we owe it to her to make sure she lands somewhere better. We’ll help her find something worthy of what she gave up.”
“To Sarah,” Harper echoed, her throat tight with emotion.
“And to Harper,” Sebastian continued, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of his tumbler. “For her relentless pursuit of the truth.”
There was something pointed in the way he said ‘relentless’ that made Harper’s jaw tighten slightly.
Ethan raised his glass higher. “To chaotic good,” he chimed in, “and to the beautiful, beautiful chaos I unleashed on Hawthorne’s digital ghost.” He took a long, satisfying sip before reaching for his tablet. “Speaking of which, I have updates. Plural.”
He swiped through a series of screens, a darkly humorous glint in his eyes. “Total asset freeze: successful. Offshore accounts: locked. Digital infrastructure: dismantled. The man is a financial phantom.” He paused, looking immensely pleased with himself. “And as a little bonus, I bought his cars.”
Sebastian blinked. “Wait. What? All of them?”
“The whole collection,” Ethan confirmed.
“That vintage Aston Martin DB5 he was so precious about, the Jaguar E-Type, the slightly obscene Ferrari 275 GTB. Oh, and the Porsche 918 Spyder.” He shrugged.
“Seemed like a fitting home for them. My garage is significantly less… morally compromised. Besides, taking Charles’s toys?
That had a certain immediate satisfaction. ”
Harper nearly choked on her whiskey. “I can’t believe you bought his entire car collection. That’s… impressively petty.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said with a bow. “I do try to excel at the important things.”
A genuine laugh escaped Sebastian, lighter than any sound Ethan had heard from him in weeks. “Why, Ethan? Why on earth would you do that?”
Ethan finally sat up, his expression turning a fraction more serious, though the mischievous glint in his eyes remained.
“Multiple reasons, my friend. Firstly, because I could, and frankly, it’s fun.
Secondly, because the man was an absolute prick to you, and it’s a small, tangible way to underscore his defeat.
Every time he remembers his prized possessions are in the hands of the ‘loud American tech bro,’ it’ll be a tiny, fresh little papercut on his ego. ”
Sebastian chuckled. “He did always look at you like you were personally responsible for the decline of Western civilization every time you wore trainers to a formal event.”
“Exactly!” Ethan exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “It was the sheer, unadulterated snobbery. Like my choice of footwear was a personal affront to his lineage. He hated that I wasn’t impressed by him or his dusty titles.” He grinned.
“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” Sebastian asked.
“More than you know,” Ethan admitted. He paused, then grinned wickedly. “Also, I’m thinking of a new paint job for one of them. Something subtle. Like Cheeto orange. Maybe rename the car ‘Democracy.’”
Sebastian actually snorted. “You wouldn’t.”