The Hero Was Never Mine

Chapter 7

After Astrid left, Quinn remained in the conference room for several minutes.

She stared at the empty chair across from her.

Then she looked at the papers scattered across the table.

The partnership proposal.

The budget estimates.

The implementation timeline.

Evidence that two women who were supposed to hate each other could work together toward something good.

She smiled to herself.

Perhaps this was what changing the story looked like.

Not a sudden transformation.

Not a magical reversal of fate.

Just a series of small decisions that led somewhere different.

Hannah entered the room carrying a tray.

"How did it go?"

Quinn looked up.

"Very well."

"Did you approve the partnership?"

"Yes. Pending the finance review."

"And Miss Watson?"

Quinn hesitated.

Then she smiled.

"I think I like her."

Hannah blinked.

"You like her?"

"Yes."

"As in… like her?"

Quinn gave her a look.

"Would you like me to repeat the sentence in another language?"

Hannah pressed her lips together.

"I only ask because you once described Miss Watson as an insufferable opportunist."

Quinn winced.

"That was unfortunate."

"You also said she was manipulative."

"Even more unfortunate."

"And that she was—"

"Hannah."

"Yes, Miss Hearst ?"

"Please stop reading my past mistakes aloud."

Hannah laughed.

Quinn leaned back in her chair.

"I think I judged her unfairly."

Hannah's expression softened.

"That happens."

"I know. But it doesn't make it right."

"No," Hannah agreed. "It doesn't."

Quinn looked at the empty chair again.

"She seems like a genuinely good person."

"She does."

"And I think we could do good work together."

Hannah smiled.

"I'm glad."

Quinn picked up the partnership proposal.

"Let's make sure we do."

Two days later, Quinn received an invitation to the Watson Foundation's community literacy event.

The event would take place at a public library in Queens, where volunteers planned to distribute books and organize reading activities for local children.

Astrid had sent the invitation personally.

At the bottom, she had written a short note.

I thought you might like to see the program in action. It would be wonderful to have you there.

Quinn read it twice.

Then she looked at Hannah.

"Do we have anything scheduled for Saturday morning?"

Hannah checked her calendar.

"You have a meeting with the foundation's program directors at ten, but it can be moved to the afternoon."

"Move it."

"Certainly."

Quinn set the invitation down.

"I'd like to attend the event."

Hannah smiled.

"I'll let Miss Watson's office know."

Quinn hesitated.

"And Hannah?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell Sebastian ."

Hannah stared at her.

"Why would I tell Mr. Vanderbilt?"

"I don't know. You seem to have developed a habit of sharing my business with him."

"I have never shared your private business with Mr. Vanderbilt."

"Good."

Hannah's smile widened.

"Would you like me to tell him you're attending a literacy event with Miss Watson?"

"No."

"Of course not."

"Hannah."

"Yes, Miss Hearst ?"

"You're enjoying this far too much."

Hannah left the room before Quinn could find a suitable punishment for her assistant's increasingly dangerous sense of humor.

**********

Saturday morning arrived with clear skies and a cool breeze.

Quinn dressed in dark jeans, a cream sweater, and a simple coat. She left her diamond earrings in the jewelry box and wore small silver studs instead.

For once, she wanted to look like someone who had come to help rather than someone who had arrived to be photographed.

The library was located on a quiet street in Queens, surrounded by apartment buildings, small shops, and a bakery that smelled wonderful.

When Quinn arrived, the front doors were already open.

Inside, volunteers were setting up tables covered with books, pencils, notebooks, and colorful paper decorations.

Children sat in small groups, talking excitedly as they waited for the activities to begin.

Aurelia stood near the entrance, helping a volunteer arrange a stack of picture books.

When she saw Quinn , her face lit up.

"You came!"

Quinn smiled.

"Of course."

Astrid walked over and greeted her warmly.

"I'm so glad you're here. We're still setting up, but we should be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"How can I help?"

Astrid blinked.

"You want to help?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't come here to admire the wallpaper."

Astrid laughed.

"Fair enough. We need someone to help sort the books by reading level."

"Then show me where they are."

Astrid led her toward a long table.

For the next half hour, Quinn sorted books.

She organized picture books, early readers, chapter books, and young adult novels. She helped label boxes and carried stacks of materials to the activity tables.

No one asked her to pose for a photograph.

No one commented on her dress.

No one cared about her relationship with Adrian Thorne.

They simply handed her books and asked where they belonged.

It was glorious.

A little girl with two uneven pigtails approached her carrying a book about a rabbit.

"Excuse me."

Quinn looked down.

"Hello."

"Where does this one go?"

She examined the cover.

"That looks like an early reader. Let's see."

She turned the book over and checked the reading level.

"This one belongs on the blue table."

The girl looked at the tables.

"Which one is blue?"

Quinn glanced around.

There were three tables with blue decorations.

She sighed.

"That's an excellent question."

The girl giggled.

Quinn crouched beside her.

"Let's find out together."

They walked to the nearest table, where a volunteer had placed a sign identifying the reading levels.

"This one," Quinn said.

The girl placed the book on the table.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

The girl ran back to her friends.

Quinn watched her go, smiling.

Astrid appeared beside her.

"She's one of our regular visitors. Her name is Sophie."

"She's adorable."

"She loves reading, but her family can't afford to buy many books."

Quinn looked at the table.

"How many children come here regularly?"

"About sixty. More during the summer."

"And how many books do you have?"

"Not enough."

Astrid said it without complaint.

Just a simple statement of fact.

Quinn looked around the room.

The books were worn, some with bent corners and faded covers. The tables had been repaired more than once. The volunteers were doing their best with what they had.

It wasn't enough.

Not for the children.

Not for the teachers.

Not for the people who believed education could change a life.

Quinn felt a quiet determination settle inside her.

"Let's change that," she said.

Astrid turned toward her.

"What?"

"The books. The supplies. The resources. Let's make a proper plan for this library."

Astrid's eyes widened.

"Quinn , that would be wonderful, but—"

"I know. We'll need a budget, a needs assessment, and a plan for maintaining the resources. I don't want to send a truckload of books and then discover we haven't addressed the things the library actually needs."

Astrid smiled slowly.

"You're serious."

"Very."

"Then I think we should talk after the event."

"Agreed."

Astrid looked at her for a moment.

Then she reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Thank you."

Quinn felt her throat tighten.

She had been thanked before.

At charity galas.

At corporate events.

In speeches delivered by people who wanted to acknowledge a donation.

But this was different.

Astrid was not thanking her for the amount of money she could give.

She was thanking her for caring enough to ask what was needed.

Quinn smiled.

"You're welcome."

The event began at ten.

Children gathered around the activity tables while volunteers read stories aloud. Parents sat near the windows, chatting quietly as their children explored the books.

Quinn found herself seated on a small chair beside a group of children.

A volunteer had been called away to assist with a registration issue, leaving a stack of books and several expectant faces.

One of the children looked up at her.

"Are you going to read to us?"

Quinn glanced toward Astrid, who was speaking to a parent near the entrance.

Then she looked back at the children.

"I suppose I am."

She picked up a picture book.

The title was The Little Star Who Lost Her Way.

She almost laughed at the irony.

Of all the books in the room, this was the one she had chosen.

She opened it and began reading.

At first, she was self-conscious.

She had spent years writing books for adults, but reading aloud to children was different. She had to slow down, give each character a voice, and pause long enough for the children to understand what was happening.

Then a little boy interrupted her to ask whether the star was actually lost or simply visiting another part of the sky.

Quinn considered the question seriously.

"That's a very good question."

"Because stars don't get lost," he explained. "They stay where they're supposed to be."

Quinn looked at the illustration.

The little star was drawn above a dark forest, surrounded by unfamiliar constellations.

"Perhaps," she said, "sometimes we have to get a little lost before we discover where we want to go."

The boy considered that.

Then he nodded as though she had delivered a profound scientific explanation.

"Okay."

Quinn continued reading.

The children listened with wide eyes, laughing at the funny parts and gasping when the little star encountered danger.

By the time she reached the final page, Quinn had forgotten about her expensive apartment, her complicated finances, and the fact that she was living inside a romance novel.

She was simply telling a story.

And she loved it.

When she finished, the children clapped.

One girl raised her hand.

"Can you read another one?"

Quinn smiled.

"Of course."

She reached for the next book.

Then another.

And another.

By the time the event ended, she had read four stories, helped two children choose books to take home, and learned that a boy named Lucas was convinced he would become a professional astronaut.

She had also received a drawing from Sophie.

It showed a woman with long dark hair standing beside a smiling girl. Above them, a yellow sun filled the corner of the page.

At the bottom, Sophie had written her name in large, uneven letters.

Quinn held the drawing carefully.

"Thank you," she said.

Sophie smiled.

"That's you."

"I can tell."

"You look pretty."

Quinn laughed softly.

"Thank you. So do you."

Sophie beamed and ran toward her mother.

Quinn looked down at the drawing.

It was a simple piece of paper.

A few lines.

A yellow sun.

Two smiling figures.

Yet she found herself wanting to keep it forever.

Perhaps this was what she had been missing.

Not admiration.

Not romance.

Not the satisfaction of being chosen.

Just the feeling that she had made someone's day a little brighter.

After the event, Astrid and Quinn sat together at a small table near the back of the library.

A volunteer brought them coffee and sandwiches.

Astrid looked exhausted but happy.

"That went well."

"It did."

"Thank you for helping."

"I enjoyed it."

Astrid smiled.

"You were very good with the children."

Quinn looked down at the drawing beside her cup.

"They were easy to talk to."

"They tend to be. They ask honest questions."

"That's refreshing."

Astrid laughed.

"Adults could learn a lot from them."

Quinn nodded.

For a while, they talked about the event.

The children.

The volunteers.

The library's needs.

Then Astrid leaned back in her chair and looked at Quinn with a curious expression.

"Can I ask you something?"

Quinn smiled faintly.

"You seem to enjoy asking me questions."

"I'm trying to get to know you."

That answer surprised her.

"Why?"

Astrid looked equally surprised by the question.

"Because I think you're interesting."

Quinnstared at her.

Interesting.

Not beautiful.

Not wealthy.

Not intimidating.

Interesting.

She had spent so long being defined by the things people could see that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be appreciated for something else.

"That's a dangerous opinion," she said lightly.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not always easy to get along with."

Astrid smiled.

"Neither am I."

Quinn laughed.

Then Astrid grew thoughtful.

"I think people sometimes make mistakes because they don't know how to deal with their feelings."

Quinn looked at her.

"That's true."

"And sometimes they hurt other people because they're afraid of being hurt themselves."

The words settled between them.

Quinn thought of the original Quinn .

The woman who had chased Sebastian because she believed his affection would prove she was worthy of love.

The woman who had resented Astrid because she had mistaken being rejected for being defeated.

The woman who had turned her pain into cruelty.

"Do you think people can change?" Quinn asked.

Astrid considered the question.

"Yes."

"Even when they've done terrible things?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether they're willing to take responsibility for what they've done."

Quinn looked down at her hands.

Astrid continued.

"I don't think change means pretending the past never happened. If you've hurt someone, you have to acknowledge it. Sometimes you have to apologize. Sometimes you have to accept that the other person may never forgive you."

She paused.

"But I don't think anyone should be forced to spend the rest of their life being the worst version of themselves."

Quinn chest tightened.

She looked at Astrid.

"That's a very kind way of looking at things."

"Maybe. But I think it's also practical."

Astrid smiled.

"If people believe they can do better, they're more likely to try."

Quinn thought about the notebook in her apartment.

The list of things she wanted.

The promise she had made to write a different ending.

Perhaps the same principle applied to her.

She couldn't erase the original Quinn's mistakes.

She couldn't pretend that the woman had never hurt anyone.

But she could choose what happened next.

She could become someone different.

She could try.

"Thank you," Quinn said quietly.

Astrid tilted her head.

"For what?"

"For reminding me that change is possible."

Astrid smiled.

"You're welcome."

Then she glanced toward the front entrance.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Sebastian said he might stop by."

Quinn froze.

Her coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth.

"He said what?"

Astrid looked at her.

"Sebastian. He told me he had a meeting nearby and might visit the event."

Quinn slowly lowered her cup.

Of course.

Of course Sebastian had to appear at the exact moment she was beginning to feel comfortable around the heroine.

The universe was clearly enjoying itself.

"When did he tell you that?" she asked.

"This morning."

"And you didn't think to mention it?"

Astrid frowned.

"I didn't think it was important."

Quinn looked toward the entrance.

It was important.

It was very important.

Not because she was worried about seeing Sebastian.

She wasn't.

Not because she cared whether he saw her spending time with Astrid.

She didn't.

But because she had spent the entire morning reading stories to children, and she would prefer not to ruin the experience by suddenly becoming aware of how her hair looked.

She pressed a hand against her forehead.

"Of course it's not important."

Astrid watched her.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.

"Quinn ?"

"What?"

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"You're holding your coffee cup with both hands."

"Perhaps I'm cold."

"It's warm in here."

"Perhaps the coffee is emotionally supportive."

Astrid burst out laughing.

Quinn stared at her.

Then she began laughing too.

For the first time, they laughed together without the uncomfortable shadow of the past hanging between them.

And that, somehow, was more frightening than Sebastian's arrival.

Because Quinn was beginning to enjoy Astrid's company.

She was beginning to understand why people loved her.

And she was beginning to realize that friendship could be just as powerful as romance.

Sebastian arrived fifteen minutes later.

Quinn knew it was him before she saw him.

The library seemed to grow quieter near the entrance, followed by the sound of a volunteer greeting someone with surprise.

She looked up.

Sebastian stood near the front desk, wearing a dark jacket and a white shirt with the sleeves neatly buttoned at his wrists. He carried a paper bag in one hand and looked faintly out of place among the colorful decorations and children's drawings.

He was, however, making a sincere effort to appear comfortable.

A little boy had approached him.

Sebastian was listening to something the child was saying with the grave concentration of a man negotiating an international treaty.

Quinn covered her mouth to hide a smile.

Astrid noticed.

"He's good with children," she said.

Quinn looked at her.

"Really?"

Astrid nodded.

"He pretends he isn't, but he is."

That was new information.

In the original novel, Sebastian had been awkward around children, though he was never unkind to them. Tiffany had written him as someone who didn't know how to interact with people who expected nothing from him.

Perhaps she had mistaken his uncertainty for indifference.

Sebastian finally managed to excuse himself from the little boy and walked toward them.

"Astrid."

"Sebastian . I'm glad you could make it."

He smiled at her, then turned toward Quinn.

"Quinn."

She lifted her coffee cup.

"Sebastian ."

His gaze moved briefly over her face, then toward the drawing beside her plate.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely."

"That sounds suspicious."

"Why?"

"You're smiling."

Quinn narrowed her eyes.

"Do you have a problem with my smiling?"

"Not at all."

"Then stop looking so surprised."

He laughed softly.

Astrid glanced between them.

"I was just telling Quinn that you're good with children."

Sebastian looked mildly alarmed.

"Was that what you were telling her?"

"Yes."

"I hope you didn't exaggerate."

"I didn't."

Quinn rested her chin on her hand.

"Apparently, you're a natural."

"Don't start."

"Why not? It's a compliment."

"I've learned to be cautious when you compliment me."

Quinn smiled sweetly.

"How wise of you."

Astrid laughed.

Sebastian shook his head, but his expression was warm.

For a moment, the three of them sat together as though this arrangement were perfectly ordinary.

The hero.

The heroine.

The villainess.

No one was fighting.

No one was plotting.

No one was trying to steal anyone's affection.

It was almost enough to make Quinn forget that the original story had been built around a love triangle.

Almost.

Sebastian placed the paper bag on the table.

"I brought something for the volunteers."

Astrid opened it.

Inside were sandwiches, pastries, and several boxes of juice.

Her expression softened.

"Thank you. That was thoughtful."

"I thought the volunteers might appreciate lunch."

"They will."

Sebastian glanced toward the children.

"How did the event go?"

"Very well," Astrid replied. "Quinn helped with the books and read stories to the children."

Sebastian looked at her.

"You read to them?"

Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

"Is that surprising?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

He shook his head.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm simply trying to imagine you reading a picture book."

"Would you like a demonstration?"

"Perhaps another time."

"Wise choice."

Astrid smiled as she watched them.

Then she looked at Sebastian.

"You should stay for a while. We're about to start the last activity."

"What activity?"

"The children are going to write letters to their future selves."

Sebastian blinked.

"Letters to their future selves?"

"Yes. They'll write about what they want to become when they grow up, then we'll keep the letters and give them back in a few years."

Quinn smiled.

"That's a lovely idea."

Astrid nodded.

"We thought it might help them think about their dreams."

Sebastian looked toward the activity tables.

Then he nodded.

"I'll stay."

Quinn watched him.

She had never imagined Sebastian spending his Saturday morning in a public library, surrounded by children and colored pencils.

The man she had written would have attended a charity gala, delivered a speech, and left before anyone could ask him to do something that required emotional participation.

But this Sebastian was different.

Or perhaps he had always been this person, and she had simply never given him enough room to show it.

That possibility unsettled her.

Because if she had been wrong about him, what else had she misunderstood?

The letter-writing activity turned out to be more chaotic than anyone expected.

The children had been given paper, envelopes, and colored pencils. They were supposed to write a letter to themselves five years in the future.

Some took the assignment seriously.

Others wanted to draw dinosaurs.

One child wrote that he planned to become a professional ice cream taster.

Another announced that she would become the president of the United States and make every Friday a national holiday.

Quinn found herself helping a little girl spell the word astronaut.

Sebastian was seated at the next table, attempting to explain to a boy why becoming a superhero was a perfectly reasonable ambition even if the boy had not yet decided which superpower he wanted.

"I want to fly," the boy said.

"That's a good choice."

"And shoot lasers."

"That might be difficult to explain to your parents."

The boy considered this.

"Then I'll only use them outside."

Sebastian nodded solemnly.

"An excellent compromise."

Quinn had to turn away to hide her laughter.

Astrid leaned toward her.

"See? I told you he was good with children."

Quinn smiled.

"You did."

Astrid looked down at her own letter.

"I used to do this when I was little."

"Write letters to your future self?"

"Yes. My mother kept them in a box."

"What did you write?"

Astrid thought for a moment.

"That I wanted to become a teacher. And that I wanted to travel around the world."

"Did you?"

"Not the teaching part. But I've traveled quite a bit through the foundation's work."

She smiled faintly.

"I think the little girl who wrote those letters would be happy."

Quinn looked at her.

"That's a wonderful thing to be able to say."

Astrid glanced at her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What did you want to become when you were little?"

The question struck unexpectedly close.

Tiffany had wanted to become a writer.

She had spent her childhood filling notebooks with stories, creating imaginary worlds and characters who were braver, kinder, and more loved than she sometimes felt herself to be.

She had wanted to write books that made people feel less alone.

And she had succeeded.

For a while, at least.

"I wanted to tell stories," Quinn said carefully.

Astrid smiled.

"That sounds lovely."

"It was."

"Do you still want to?"

Quinn looked at the blank paper in front of her.

For a moment, she could almost feel the weight of her old laptop beneath her fingers.

The quiet room.

The blinking cursor.

The unfinished manuscript.

"Yes," she admitted. "I think I do."

Astrid's expression brightened.

"Then you should."

Quinn laughed softly.

"It's not quite that simple."

"Why not?"

"Life gets complicated."

Astrid nodded.

"It does."

She paused.

"But I don't think that means we should stop wanting things."

Quinn looked at her.

Astrid smiled.

"Sometimes the things we want are the only things that remind us who we are."

The words stayed with Quinn long after the conversation ended.

Perhaps Astrid was right.

Perhaps she had spent so much time trying to avoid her death that she had forgotten to live.

Perhaps she needed to stop treating her future as something she could only protect and start treating it as something she could build.

She looked at the little girl beside her, who was carefully drawing a picture of herself wearing a space helmet.

Then she picked up a colored pencil.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" she asked.

The girl smiled.

"A scientist."

"What kind of scientist?"

"The kind who discovers new planets."

Quinn nodded seriously.

"Then I think you'd better keep practicing your writing."

The girl giggled.

"Okay!"

Quinn smiled.

For the first time since waking up in this world, the future did not feel like a trap.

It felt like a possibility.

The event ended shortly after noon.

The children collected their drawings and letters, the volunteers packed the remaining supplies, and the library staff began cleaning the tables.

Quinn was helping stack chairs when Astrid approached her.

"Thank you for coming today."

Quinn straightened.

"Thank you for inviting me."

Astrid smiled.

"I meant what I said earlier. I'd like us to work together."

"I'd like that too."

"Not just on the partnership."

Quinn looked at her.

Astrid seemed slightly nervous now, as though she were about to make a request she wasn't sure would be welcome.

"I know we don't have much history of being friends," she said. "But I think we could get along."

Quinn felt a strange warmth spread through her chest.

"You want to be friends?"

Astrid laughed softly.

"Is that so surprising?"

"A little."

"Well, I think you're more interesting than I expected."

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'll accept it."

Astrid smiled.

"Good."

She hesitated, then added, "Would you like to have coffee with me sometime? Just the two of us?"

Quinn thought about the original story.

About the rivalry she had written.

About the jealousy, the misunderstandings, and the scenes in which Quinn tried to humiliate Astrid because she believed Sebastian's affection was something she had to win.

Then she thought about the morning they had spent together.

The books.

The children.

The laughter.

The way Astrid had spoken about change as though it were something ordinary people could choose every day.

Quinn smiled.

"I'd like that."

Astrid's face brightened.

"Wonderful."

They exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the following week.

When Astrid finally left, Quinn stood near the library entrance and watched her walk toward the street.

Sebastian appeared beside her.

"You're smiling again."

Quinn sighed.

"Do you ever get tired of pointing that out?"

"Not particularly."

She turned toward him.

"You're a very annoying man."

"I've been told."

"By whom?"

He smiled.

"People who know me."

Quinn shook her head.

Then she looked toward the street.

"She's a good person."

"Astrid?"

"Yes."

Sebastian nodded.

"She is."

Quinn glanced at him.

"You love her, don't you?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

Sebastian went quiet.

For a moment, Quinn wanted to take it back.

She had no right to ask.

She had no business interfering.

And she certainly had no desire to hear him say that he loved Astrid.

Or so she told herself.

Finally, Sebastian answered.

"I care about her very much."

Quinn looked away.

"That's not what I asked."

"No," he agreed. "It isn't."

She waited.

But he didn't say anything else.

The silence stretched between them.

Then Quinn forced a smile.

"Well, I'm glad."

Sebastian looked at her carefully.

"Are you?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

She turned toward him.

"Because she's my friend."

The words were simple.

Honest.

And entirely unexpected.

Sebastian stared at her.

Then, slowly, his expression softened.

"Your friend."

"Yes."

"That sounds new."

"It is."

He nodded.

"I'm glad."

Quinn looked at him for a moment.

Then she laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"You're terrible at pretending nothing means nothing."

"And you're terrible at pretending you don't care."

Her laughter faded.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Sebastian's gaze remained on her face, thoughtful and quiet.

Then he stepped back.

"I should get going."

"Of course."

He hesitated.

"Thank you for coming today."

Quinn blinked.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Because I think you made the children happy."

She felt her cheeks warm.

"That's a strange thing to thank someone for."

"Perhaps."

He smiled.

"But I wanted to."

Quinn looked down.

For a moment, she didn't know what to say.

Then she managed, "You're welcome."

Sebastian nodded and walked toward the parking lot.

Quinn watched him go.

She had spent years writing about the moment a hero fell in love.

She had written grand declarations, stolen kisses, dramatic rescues, and confessions beneath the rain.

She had believed that love announced itself in ways that no one could misunderstand.

But standing outside a small library in Queens, watching Sebastian walk away, she wondered whether love might begin in much quieter ways.

A question.

A remembered detail.

A shared laugh.

A person noticing that you were trying.

She immediately stopped the thought.

No.

She was not going to do this.

She was not going to turn ordinary kindness into a romantic prophecy.

She was not going to mistake friendship for destiny.

And she was absolutely not going to fall in love with Sebastian .

She had made that promise before.

She intended to keep it.

To be continued…