A Throne for the Forgotten

Chapter 25

She didn’t knock. She didn’t have to. Lucan opened the door—and froze.

Celeste stood on the threshold, coat buttoned, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. The hallway behind her was quiet, but she looked like she’d walked through a war to get here.

She didn’t wait for an invitation. She walked past him like she still had every right to.

Lucan shut the door slowly. “You came.”

“You testified,” Celeste said. “So I’m here to ask what I never got to ask you in court.”

She turned around, arms crossed, shoulders stiff.

“Why now?”

Lucan hesitated. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“You had a hundred chances to do the right thing,” she said. “And you didn’t.”

“I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“No,” she snapped. “You didn’t try.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of breaking what was left.”

“You broke it anyway,” she said.

She stepped closer.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to be erased in silence?” Her voice didn’t shake. “To be married to a man who let his family bury me alive?”

Lucan looked down. “I thought I was holding things together.”

“No,” Celeste said. “You were holding them together. Their image. Their comfort. Not us. Not me.”

Every word cut deep—and she knew it.

“You think it didn’t eat at me?” Lucan asked. “You think I didn’t feel it every day?”

“No,” she said. “I think you ignored it. I think you closed your eyes and assumed I’d wait forever.”

“I never asked you to wait.”

“You didn’t have to,” she whispered. “I waited anyway. That’s the part I hate most.”

Lucan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “You wanted me to choose you over them.”

“I wanted you to see me,” she said. “To say something. To stand up for me. You couldn’t even do that.”

“I was afraid,” he admitted. “Of losing everything.”

“You lost me,” Celeste said. “And that was everything.”

Lucan stared at her, like the truth had just landed for the first time.

“I didn’t know how to be the man you needed.”

“Then you should’ve left,” she said. “Instead of keeping me in that house like a placeholder. Like I only mattered when I stayed quiet.”

“I never asked you to be quiet.”

“No,” she said. “But you never listened when I spoke.”

She looked at him, eyes steady. “And now what? You want credit for finally showing up? Redemption?”

“I don’t want either,” Lucan said. “I just wanted to tell the truth.”

“Truth doesn’t erase what happened,” she replied. “It only makes it harder to ignore.”

Her breath hitched.

“I waited. I begged the universe to make you brave. But you weren’t. You just disappeared behind your last name.”

“I wanted to be strong enough.”

“You weren’t.”

“I didn’t know how to lose them.”

“You didn’t lose them,” Celeste snapped. “They never cared about you. They used you. And when I needed you, you were still too busy trying to earn their approval.”

Lucan’s voice cracked. “You don’t think I regret that?”

“You regret it in silence,” she said. “While I had to live through it. Men like you always get to feel sorry without having to carry the wreckage.”

He took a step toward her.

She raised her hand. “Don’t.”

The air between them hung heavy—too many years packed into one unfinished argument.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” Lucan said.

“You already did,” she replied. “When you let them light the match and left me to burn.”

“I didn’t know how to be yours.”

“You just had to choose me,” she said. “Once. Out loud. In public. Without hesitation.”

Lucan’s voice dropped. “If I could go back—”

“You can’t.”

“I would.”

“But you didn’t.”

She stepped toward the door, her breath shallow.

“You had every chance,” she said. “And every time, you stayed silent.”

He didn’t stop her. He couldn’t.

“Celeste—”

She turned back once.

“I wanted to believe you’d choose me.”

She shook her head slowly.

“But you didn’t.”

At the door, she paused. The apartment behind them was still. Her silence carried more weight than any scream.

She looked at him one last time. No tears. Just truth.

“You lost me.”

Then she left.