Chapter 159: Chapter 159
A knock interrupted them.
"Dinner is ready," a maid’s voice called softly from outside.
Dominic’s brow twitched, irritation cutting into the softness that had lingered between him and Celeste.
His head tilted toward the door, and with his voice as sharp as blade, he ordered. "Leave it."
The maid hesitated. "Sir, it will get cold—"
"I said, leave it."
Silence answered immediately.
Celeste, still nestled in his arms, tilted her head up at him. A smile ghosted spread across her lips. The smile was not mocking, but amused at the way his temper could flare so quickly, even over something as simple as a meal. "You’ll scare them all away at this rate."
Dominic’s eyes softened when they met hers again. "Good. Then they’ll learn not to interrupt when I’m with you."
She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, but there was warmth behind it. She shifted slightly, just enough to sit upright, as her hands smoothed down the blanket.
Dominic pushed himself up as well, watching her with the kind of intensity that never dimmed, not even in the most mundane moments. He could watch her breathe and call it worship.
They ate together not long after. The maids slipped back in to arrange the trays on a small marble table just by the balcony side, then fled the moment Dominic waved them off.
The plates were arranged delicately, meat and rice and soup, but neither of them seemed to have much appetite. Celeste picked slowly at her food. Her mind was now clearly elsewhere, and Dominic watched her more than he ever touched his plate.
When she finally set her fork down, with her hand resting lightly on the edge of the table, Dominic leaned forward, sensing the weight in her silence. "You’re not hungry."
"I’ve had enough," she said softly, but her gaze was far away.
He studied her for a long moment, and the lines of his jaw tightened as though he could already sense what was coming.
Then she looked at him. There was no hesitation in her eyes when she asked, "Why were we attacked that night?"
Dominic froze.
The words landed like a blade between them. For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe. His eyes darkened, and the warmth from moments ago shuttered as something cold coiled in his chest.
He never wanted to speak of that night with her. The baby won’t leave his mind and he hates that it was taking him so long to tell her.
He leaned back slowly, his fingers drumming once against the armrest of his chair before going still. His voice, when it came, was low, and deliberate. "Celeste..."
She didn’t flinch. "I already know it was Carlos." Her tone was calm, and matter-of-fact. "I just want to hear it from you."
His chest rose and fell. His silence stretched, but she didn’t look away. She had woken from a coma only a week ago, but her spirit was intact, and sharper than ever. She wasn’t fragile. At least not in this.
Dominic dragged a hand slowly over his mouth. The movement was deliberate, as though trying to contain everything he wanted to say. Finally, he exhaled, leaning forward to meet her gaze fully. "Yes."
Her heart skipped, but she didn’t blink. She knew his world was dark, yet she stayed. She accepted this but the reality felt much darker.
She missed days of living because she was in a coma. How much more would she be losing next?
Dominic’s voice was low, and scraped. "Carlos." He let the name sit there like filth on his tongue. "He sent them."
Celeste’s lips parted, but she stayed quiet, letting him go on.
His jaw worked, as his breath poured harsh through his nose. "He wanted me to watch you break. To think I couldn’t keep you safe." His hand curled into a fist, veins rising, eyes locked on hers with a fury that looked like it could burn through steel.
"I should’ve killed him the second I saw it coming," he said, the words ragged, almost spit. "But I didn’t. And you paid for it." His last words came out apologetic.
Her throat tightened at the sheer weight of the promise in his tone. It wasn’t bluster. It wasn’t dramatics. It was the truth. He would destroy the world if it ever reached for her again.
But still, she wanted more. No, she saw he needed to tell her more. He was visibly holding back something. She studied him quietly, her lashes low, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"
Dominic swallowed hard. His words failed him. He stared at her, his chest aching under the force of the question. Because you had just woken up. Because you had already suffered enough. Because—
Because I couldn’t bear to tell you about the baby.
The thought slammed into him like a wrecking ball, tearing through every defense he had built inside himself.
His hand twitched against the table. He looked at her, really looked at her. He stared at the soft curve of her mouth, the unyielding steadiness of her eyes, and the temptation nearly gutted him. He wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her. About the child. About their baby. The one she would never know, the one that was stolen from them before any of them would know about the baby, and the one who was stolen from them before they could ever hold it.
The words pressed against his throat like a scream, but he bit them back.
Celeste tilted her head, sensing his silence. "Dominic?"
He blinked, breaking from the spiral, his jaw clenching hard enough to ache. "Because you’ve already been through enough," he said finally, his tone rougher than he intended. "Because I didn’t want your first days back in this world to be filled with shadows."
Her expression softened slightly, though her eyes stayed searching. She reached across the table, her hand brushing over his. "The truth doesn’t scare me, Dominic. Lies do."
His breath stilled at her words. She had no idea how deep they cut.
He turned his palm upward, catching her hand and threading his fingers through hers, squeezing once, firmly, as though grounding himself. He stared at her hand in his, the smaller lines of her knuckles against the larger breadth of his. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not when her body was still healing, not when her heart was just finding a steady rhythm again.
"I’ll never lie to you," he said finally, lifting her hand and pressing a slow kiss against her knuckles. His lips lingered there, warm and reverent. "But sometimes... sometimes the truth is heavy enough to wait for the right moment."
Celeste’s brows furrowed. Her lips parted to question him again, but something in his gaze stopped her. His eyes burned with so much restraint, so much pain, and so much love that she swallowed her words instead.
Dominic stood, tugging her gently with him. He abandoned the table entirely, ignoring the untouched food, and drew her back into his arms. He cradled her head against his chest, and pressed his chin lightly to her hair. His silence said more than his words could.
She closed her eyes, breathing him in, and listening to the thunderous beat of his heart against her ear.
"Dominic..." she whispered.
"Yes."
"You’ll tell me one day, won’t you? The whole truth."
His chest constricted. His hand tightened in her hair. He closed his eyes, the lie burning his tongue before he forced the words out low and steady. "Yes."
She smiled faintly against his chest, accepting it. For now.
But Dominic knew. He knew this wasn’t over. He knew one day she would ask again, and when that day came, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
And when she finally knew the truth about the baby they lost, it would either bind them together more fiercely than ever or it would break them beyond repair.