Chapter 4 - Sanctuary at the Sterling Estate
By midnight, they were inside the sprawling gates of the Sterling estate.
The sterile, cramped apartment with its peeling blue paint and constant anxiety was gone. In its place was a grand, sprawling mansion filled with soft lighting, high vaulted ceilings, and the quiet comfort of absolute security.
Maids had already prepared a nursery suite for Emma, complete with a crib filled with plush toys and a warm bath running in the marble-tiled bathroom.
Rebecca sat at the edge of a king-sized bed in the guest wing while a private family physician, Dr. Vance, gently examined her jaw and checked her vital signs.
"The baby's heart rate is strong, Rebecca," Dr. Vance said, applying a cold compress to her bruised cheekbone. "You're lucky the blow didn't cause premature contractions. As for your tooth... we can schedule an emergency dental implant tomorrow morning. The gum will need time to heal, but we can fix it completely."
Rebecca nodded numbly, holding a cup of chamomile tea in both hands. Her lip was swollen, her mouth throbbed, but for the first time in years, her shoulders felt light.
The door opened softly, and Jonathan walked in. He had removed his overcoat, revealing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked older than she remembered—there were deeper lines around his eyes—but his presence was as formidable as ever.
Dr. Vance quietly packed his medical bag and excused himself, leaving father and daughter alone in the quiet room.
Jonathan pulled up a velvet armchair, sitting down opposite her. He looked at her missing tooth and the purple bruise blossoming across her cheek. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
"I'm sorry," Jonathan said quietly. The words sounded foreign on his tongue, heavy with years of unspoken regret.
Rebecca blinked, surprised. "For what? For being right?"
"For letting you go with him," Jonathan admitted, looking down at his hands. "When you walked out of here to marry him, my pride wouldn't let me chase you. I told myself you made your bed, you had to lie in it. But I should have never let him near you. I knew what kind of man he was—weak, insecure, small-minded. Men like that hate women who are stronger than them."
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A tear slipped down Rebecca’s bruised cheek, mixing with the cool compress. "I was so stubborn, Dad. I wanted to prove to you that I could make it on my own, that I didn't need your money or your name."
Jonathan reached across the space between them, placing his weathered, warm hand over hers. "You never needed my money, Rebecca. You've always had my strength. And right now, you're going to need every ounce of it. Because Trevor isn't going to let go easily. He's desperate, and desperate men do stupid things."
