He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 142

He tossed the tissue into the trash as Helena sat up.

Before she could shift away, Sebastian's arm snaked around her waist. She tried to dodge, but she was trapped in his orbit, completely cornered.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Sebastian?" she finally snapped, glaring up at him.

He just stared back. She didn't look away, but trying to read the emotions in his dark, bottomless eyes was impossible.

Suddenly, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

Helena froze, caught off guard.

He pinched her chin, tilting her face up. The usual ruthlessness in his gaze had faded, replaced by a dark, teasing gleam.

He leaned in until his nose brushed against hers, closing the distance into something dangerously intimate.

"I'm coaxing you," he murmured, his breath fanning her skin. "I'm trying to get you to behave and stop fighting me at every turn."

His cool lips grazed hers—a fleeting, tantalizing touch. He didn't deepen the kiss, just let his mouth linger against hers.

Caught in that magnetic stare, Helena felt her mind go blank. For a split second, it was as if she were under his spell.

She shoved him away. "I keep my promises, Sebastian. As long as you keep yours, I won't cause any trouble. I'll safely deliver this baby."

With that, she practically sprinted toward the door, terrified of what would happen if she stayed in his arms a second longer.

Sebastian looked at his empty hands, his expression cooling as he slipped one into his pocket. When his gaze settled on her retreating back, it was sharp and calculating.

Helena didn't reply. She could live a hundred lifetimes and still never master Janetta's brand of toxic hypocrisy. She had zero interest in dragging out this conversation.

"Oh, right! I just found out it was your birthday that day too," Janetta added, as if struck by a sudden realization. "I actually prepared an apology gift for you. I just couldn't find the right time to give it to you, and I haven't seen Sebastian to pass it along. Thankfully, I had my assistant bring it today."

Janetta beamed, practically oozing sincerity. "Happy belated birthday, Ms. Wallace."

On cue, the assistant produced a signature orange box. It was a Hermès accessory—a clear, condescending jab implying Helena was nothing more than an afterthought, an extra.

Janetta stepped forward and personally placed the box into Helena's hands.

Helena looked down at the orange package. The second her fingers brushed the box, Janetta let go.

And so did Helena.