Dinner is laid out with such elegance it almost feels like a trap I've set for myself; rose gold cutlery, a flickering centerpiece, and three courses spread before us like a royal truce offering. I've asked the chef to prepare all of Cassian's favorites: grilled duck in honey glaze, roasted yams, and that spiced pear tart he always pretends not to like but finishes anyway.
He walks in without his usual royal guards or formal air, just Cassian, the man, the husband I've wronged.
He pulls out the chair across from me and gives me a look; neutral, unreadable. But he sits.
I pour him wine. "Thank you for coming."
"I didn't realize I had a choice," he says dryly, but not cruelly.
I give a faint smile. "You did. But I hoped you wouldn't use it."
Silence lingers as he picks up his fork and cuts into the duck without touching it. I fold my hands in my lap, searching for the right tone. No dramatics. No apologies drenched in tears. Just truth.
"I spoke with Nancy," I say quietly.
He looks up sharply. "You did?"
"I called her. Yesterday. Asked her to come. She did."
Cassian drops his fork. "What more lies did she cook up?"
"Please. Just listen." I take a breath. "I needed to hear from her directly. Something didn't add up, and I couldn't keep living in confusion; doubting you, doubting myself."
He leans back, arms crossed. "And what did she say?"
I hold his gaze. "She's not pregnant."
That catches him off guard. "What?"
"She admitted it. Broke down in tears. She lied about everything, because her father, Lord Johnson, put her up to it."
His brows draw together. "Lord Johnson?"
"You don't know him?"
"I know the man. He's one of the quiet ones on the council. Keeps to himself. I didn't even know he had a daughter."
I nod. "Nancy said he has this twisted ambition—to place her on the throne by making you hers. When you stopped falling for her after our second wedding, he panicked. The pregnancy lie, the threat messages, even the night someone attacked me through my window; it was all orchestrated by him, through Nancy and a palace guard loyal to him."
Cassian looks stunned. Then his jaw tightens. "This is bigger than I thought."
I reach across the table, resting my fingers near his wine glass. "I should have trusted you, Cassian. I shouldn't have accused you so quickly, or let my fear cloud everything. I was angry. I felt betrayed. But I let myself be manipulated."
His eyes flick to my hand, then to my face. "You've never apologized to me like this."
"I'm not proud that I need to." I pull my hand back gently. "But I mean it. I'm sorry."
He's quiet for a while, then finally speaks, voice low. "I didn't 't expect this... dinner. Or this conversation. Honestly, I thought we're finished."
"We're not. Not unless you say we are."
He doesn't answer right away. But he reaches for his fork again, slowly slicing into the duck and taking a bite. After chewing, he says, "You keep Nancy here?"
"Yes. Under surveillance. She doesn't speak to anyone, not even her father, until we finish the investigation."
Cassian gives a small nod. "Good. We'll interrogate that guard too and drag Johnson out from whatever rock he's hiding under."
"I'm ready," I say quietly.
He glances at me again, this time a little softer. "We have a lot to fix, Celeste. Not just this. Us."
"I know."
His voice drops. "No more secrets. No more assumptions."
"Only truth," I agree.
He pours himself more wine and finally raises his glass slightly. "To war, then."
I lift mine to meet his. "To justice first. Then war."
Our glasses clink gently, but the fire in our eyes is louder than steel.
***
Besides ensuring Nancy is secured under my care, I leave the full reins of the investigation to Cassian. I need space; mental space, to focus on my recovery. The bruises, the fractured bones, they're healing faster than expected, but it's the bruising inside my mind that still throbs quietly.
Cassian has forgiven me. He hasn't just said it, he shows it every single day. From sitting beside me through those long hospital nights to making sure I eat, rest, and take my medications, he's been present in a way that feels almost unfamiliar. He watches me like someone afraid I'll break again.
But there's still a distance between us. One we both pretend doesn't exist, but we feel it in the silences that linger too long and the words that remain unsaid.
I can't forget what I saw; the image of Nancy, naked, clinging to him in our private home, that look in her eyes, the smugness. And then the car crash; the metal twisting, the fear, the helplessness. And after all that, the silence. The cold, unbearable silence that followed.
Even now, as he holds my hand during dinner or adjusts the pillow behind my back, I feel it, that invisible wall we've built between us. Not out of hatred, but pain. And guilt. So much guilt.
Cassian may have forgiven me, but I haven't forgiven myself. Not yet.
School is resuming soon. I'll be back in the courtroom halls, back chasing my dreams, but I don't want to carry this weight with me. I don't want to leave behind a husband who now feels like a stranger wrapped in familiarity.
I need to fight for us. Quietly, steadily. Not with grand gestures, but with honesty. With presence. With grace.
This time, it's not about justice or royalty.
It's about home.
And Cassian is still my home.