The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 114

114 An Indecent Proposal at Death’s Door

Hazel’s POV

“Has Sebastian Sinclair taken a romantic interest in you?”

Vera’s question lingered in the air, making my stomach knot. I shifted uncomfortably in

my seat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It’s a business relationship. He’s repaying a debt.”

Vera snorted. “A debt that involves staring at you like you’re the center of his universe? The pictures don’t lie, Hazel.”

“You’re reading too much into things,” I insisted, though my heart fluttered traitorously. “Look, can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”

After hanging up, my thoughts drifted to my grandmother and aunt. I needed to tell them about the Sinclair connection. They deserved to know.

“You saved Sebastian Sinclair’s life?” Grandma Martha nearly dropped her teacup. Her weathered hands trembled slightly as she set it down. “Twice?”

We sat in the sunny breakfast nook of her modest home. The familiar scent of

cinnamon and coffee filled the air.

“Apparently,” I shrugged, picking at my slice of coffee cake. “I didn’t know who he was

at the time.”

Aunt Betsy leaned forward, her eyes wide. “The Sinclairs are practically royalty, Hazel!

This is incredible.”

“It explains why he’s helping you,” Grandma nodded thoughtfully. “That family never forgets a debt-good or bad.”

“What exactly happened?” Aunt Betsy asked.

I recounted the two incidents from my childhood-once when I’d pulled a drowning boy from a lake, and later when I’d helped a teen who’d fallen through ice.

“I never connected those boys to Sebastian Sinclair,” I finished. “Not until he told me.”

Grandma’s expression softened. “Your mother would be proud. She always said you had the kindest heart.”

The mention of my mother brought a familiar ache. “I wish she was here.”

“She is, in her own way,” Grandma patted my hand. “Now, tell us more about this divorce situation. Any progress?”

My mood soured instantly. “Alistair’s still fighting it. His lawyers keep finding delays.”

“That man,” Aunt Betsy muttered, her lips thinning in disgust. “After everything he did, he should be begging for your forgiveness, not trying to keep you trapped.”

I stared into my tea. “Sometimes I wonder if this nightmare will ever end.”

My phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Alistair’s name flashed on the screen. I almost declined the call but something made me answer.

“What is it, Alistair?” I kept my voice cold.

“Hazel…” His voice cracked. “Ivy’s gone. She… she passed away an hour ago.”

The news hit me like a physical blow. Despite everything Ivy had done, hearing of her death felt surreal.

“I’m at Memorial Hospital,” he continued. “Could you come? Please. I need to see you.”

I hesitated, conflicted. “Alistair, I don’t think—”

“Please, Hazel. Just this once.”

After hanging up, I explained the situation to my grandmother and aunt.

“Are you sure you should go?” Aunt Betsy asked worriedly.

“I’ll be fine,” I promised, though uncertainty gnawed at me. “I’ll call you later.”

Memorial Hospital smelled of antiseptic and despair. I stood in the hallway outside Ivy’s room, unable to bring myself to enter. Through the half-open door, I could hear Tanya’s theatrical wailing.

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“My baby! My precious girl!”

Her cries seemed more performance than genuine grief. Even in mourning, Tanya Turner couldn’t help putting on a show.

I leaned against the wall, wondering what I was doing here. Ivy had stolen my fiancé, worn my wedding dress, and delighted in my pain. Yet here I was, answering Alistair’s call like a trained puppy.

The door opened fully, and Alistair emerged. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair disheveled. He looked genuinely grief-stricken.

“You came,” he whispered, stepping closer.

“I did,” I replied stiffly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you. It happened so fast in the end. The doctors said she wouldn’t make it through the night, but…”

His voice trailed off, and I felt an unwanted twinge of sympathy.

“I should go,” I said. “I just wanted to offer condolences.”

“Wait.” He caught my arm as I turned. “Don’t go yet. I need to talk to you.”

I gently pulled away from his touch. “Alistair, this isn’t the time or place.”

“It’s exactly the time,” he insisted, his eyes suddenly intense. “Hazel, with Ivy gone, there’s nothing standing between us anymore.”

I stared at him, disbelief flooding through me. “What are you talking about?”

“Us. Our marriage.” His voice grew stronger. “I never stopped loving you, Hazel. Everything I did was for Ivy’s sake, because she was dying. But now—”

“Now what?” I cut in sharply. “Now that your mistress is dead, you expect me to welcome you back with open arms?”

Alistair’s expression hardened. “She wasn’t my mistress. I never loved her that way. I was just fulfilling her dying wish.”

“By marrying her in my wedding dress? By sharing a bed with her?”

“I did what I had to do,” he snapped. “And I’m not divorcing you, Hazel. I refuse to sign

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those papers.”

My blood ran cold. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I do, actually.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “And I choose to keep my wife. I’ll spend the rest of my life making things up to you.”

“You called me here for this?” I felt sick. “To torment me at Ivy’s deathbed with your

delusional fantasies?”

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