Chapter 8 Hidden Schemes
624 Words
When Helena regained consciousness again, Sebastian was the first person she saw sitting beside her bed.
His eyes were filled with obvious nervousness and worry, his hands gripping hers, slightly trembling with what seemed like genuine fear.
"Helena, you're awake! Are you feeling any pain anywhere?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
"I'm fine," Helena replied, her voice hoarse from disuse.
Sebastian immediately poured a glass of water, bringing it to her lips gently. "Drink some water to moisten your throat first. You have no idea how scared I was when I heard you'd been in a car crash—I thought my heart would stop. Thank God you're okay. Helena, don't drive alone anymore. It's too dangerous. Tell me wherever you want to go, and I'll go with you. I won't be able to rest easy otherwise."
As she stared at his familiar, loving gaze, a wave of bitterness washed over Helena.
'If I didn't already know all the terrible things he'd done, I'd still be trapped in this fake love, getting hurt over and over again.'
She turned her head away coldly, her tone flat. "My head still feels dizzy. I want to sleep. Leave."
Sebastian froze for a moment at her coldness, but quickly brushed it off—convincing himself she was just cranky from being unwell.
Over the next few days, he practically moved into the hospital, staying by her side day and night.
When a nurse came to change her bandages, she teased Helena with a smile. "Ms. Asher, where did you find such a great husband? He never leaves your side—not even for a minute. He's the perfect husband!"
Before Helena could respond, Sebastian, who'd been working on his laptop on the sofa, cut in, grinning. "My wife is the best wife in the world. She deserves nothing but the best love."
The nurse giggled, fanning herself at his sweet words, openly jealous of Helena's "good fortune."
Helena, though, felt nothing—not a flutter, not a twinge of warmth, just empty numbness.
A short while later, Sebastian followed the nurse out to pick up her medication.
Seizing the chance, Helena walked over to the sofa and opened his laptop.
On the screen, a PowerPoint titled "Press Conference" caught her eye.
She clicked it open.
Every page detailed how she "plagiarized" Margaret's designs.
Through his manipulation, her sketches, her creativity, her hard work—all had been twisted into evidence against her, credited to Margaret instead.
His w******p was still logged in, and Helena spotted a message from his assistant.
Assistant: Mr. Vance, should we invite Mrs. Vance to the press conference?
Sebastian: Of course. She's the star—she can't miss it.
Assistant: But what if Mrs. Vance makes a scene?
Sebastian: Don't worry. She loves me too much. As long as I tell her this is just a publicity stunt and I'll clear her name afterward, she'll believe me. Besides, her father is bedridden, her brother's abroad, and she has no one to lean on. Even if she does kick up a fuss, she can't get out of my grasp.
Helena slammed the laptop shut, tears pouring down her face like a broken faucet, her heart wrenching with unbearable pain.
He'd been scheming to ruin her reputation, all while pouring out fake declarations of love.
She couldn't believe it. 'How could someone be so two-faced?'
Wiping her tears roughly, she dialed a number quickly. "Mr. Myers, please go to the nursing home and get my father. Get him to a safe place. I'll come pick him up soon and take him away."
The ward door creaked open just as she hung up. Sebastian walked in, frowning slightly. "Helena, who were you talking to?"
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