Y/n had been asleep an hour ago. Now she stood frozen on the staircase landing, barefoot on cold hardwood, watching her family unravel.

Her mother was crying. Not the elegant, controlled tears she produced at galas and charity dinners—ugly, gasping sobs that made her shoulders shake. Catherine gripped the kitchen island with both hands, her engagement ring catching the light as she trembled.

Richard paced near the fireplace, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and sharp. Words like contract and damage control and she left her ring cut through the static of panicked conversations.

Lawyers occupied the dining room. Y/n could see them through the arched doorway—three men in suits that were too formal for this hour, spread across the mahogany table covered in documents.

Wedding staff hurried between rooms. A coordinator with a headset was speaking rapidly in the corner, her face pale.

And Samantha was nowhere.

The engagement ring sat on the kitchen island. Solitaire diamond. Flawless. Abandoned beside Samantha's phone, which still showed her last message open.

I can't do this. I'm sorry.

Then the front doors opened.

Y/n knew who it was before she saw them. The energy in the room shifted—sharpened. Her mother stopped crying. Her father went still. The lawyers fell silent.

Charles Devereaux entered first, seventy-two years of controlled fury compressed into a man who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. His jaw was set so hard it looked painful.

Vivienne followed, immaculate even at two in the morning. Her dark hair was pinned perfectly, her silk blouse untouched by wrinkles, her expression composed. Only her eyes moved, cataloguing the disaster with surgical precision.

Adrian slipped in behind his parents, taking in the chaos with sharp interest. He caught Y/n's eye briefly—just long enough for her to see he was as entertained as he was concerned.

And then Sebastian.

No jacket. No tie. White dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscle. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, like he'd run his hand through it once and abandoned the effort.

He looked almost unnervingly calm for a man whose bride had vanished hours before their wedding.

His gaze swept the room slowly. Took in Catherine weeping. Richard on the phone. The ring abandoned on marble. The lawyers whispering. The staff panicking.

Then his eyes found the staircase.

Found her.

Sebastian's gaze traveled up Y/n's bare legs, past the hem of her sleep shorts—an old pair with a frayed waistband—over the oversized shirt she'd stolen from some ex-boyfriend years ago. The slow path of his attention landed on her face.

His expression didn't change. But something flickered in those hazel-brown eyes. Something that made Y/n's stomach tighten.