Chapter 166: The Reunion

Chapter 166: The Reunion
Third Person’s POV

Lucy turned away, her resolve hardening like steel.
“Throw him in the dungeon,” she added quietly. “We’ll deal with him later.”
She left the basement.
“Lucy? What happened? Is everyone okay?”
Margaret’s voice echoed down the infirmary corridor, edged with panic and breathless urgency. She was running—she had to be. The sound of her hurried footsteps, uneven and frantic, carried with her voice. Her bond told her that her mate was alive and well, yet something deep inside her chest refused to settle. That gnawing instinct, the one that had never failed her, screamed that something was terribly wrong.
Lucy turned at the sound of her aunt’s voice.
The moment their eyes met, Margaret felt her heart drop.
Lucy’s face—so pale, so strained—said everything she was desperately trying not to say. That alone sent a jolt of fear through Margaret’s veins. She closed the distance between them in a few long strides and gripped Lucy by the shoulders, searching her face as if the truth might reveal itself if she stared long enough.
“You’re scaring me,” Margaret said, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound calm. “What is going on?”
“Please calm down, Aunt,” Lucy replied, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. “We’re all fine.”
Margaret shook her head immediately. “You’re lying,” she said softly but firmly. “I can feel it. Something terrible happened. Why do you look like this?” Her voice cracked. “Please tell me before curiosity kills me.”
Lucy swallowed hard. Her lips parted, then closed again as if the words refused to leave her mouth. Her eyes filled instantly, and when she spoke again, her voice was no more than a broken whisper.
“It’s about your parents… and my parents.”
Margaret frowned, confusion knitting her brows. “Did you find out how they were killed?” she asked gently, misunderstanding completely. Her heart clenched at the thought. “Is that why you’re like this?” She pulled Lucy into a tight embrace. “Oh, my poor baby. Come here.”
“No… no, you don’t understand, Aunty,” Lucy tried to say, clutching her back desperately, but Margaret only held her tighter, rocking her as if she were a child again.
“It’s okay,” Margaret murmured soothingly. “I understand. It will be okay.”
Lucy felt utterly helpless.
This was not something she could explain with words—not like this. She lifted her tear-filled eyes and looked toward Kenneth, silently pleading for help.
Kenneth understood immediately.
He stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Margaret’s shoulder. His presence was calm, grounding, even in the midst of all that emotion. He gently guided Margaret away from Lucy and wiped at her damp cheeks with surprising tenderness.
“Aunt Margaret,” he said softly, “I think you should go into that room now.”
Margaret blinked at him, confused. “What room?” she asked, her voice hollow.
“Just… go in,” Kenneth replied. “You’ll understand.”
Still dazed, still shaken, Margaret turned and pushed the door open without another word.
The smell of antiseptic hit her first.
Then she saw the beds.
Four figures lay there, thin and frail, connected to IV drips that fed life slowly back into their exhausted bodies. They looked like shadows of people—skin stretched tight over bone, faces hollow, breaths shallow. For a brief moment, Margaret wondered if she had walked into the wrong room.
She turned slightly, about to ask who they were.
Then she heard a voice.
“Maggie… my baby girl… my princess.”
Margaret froze.
The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
Her breath left her lungs in a sharp gasp as her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. That voice—she knew it. She had known it all her life. It lived in her memories, in her dreams, in the quiet moments when grief crept in uninvited.
Slowly, she turned her head.
“I… I think my mind is playing tricks on me,” she whispered shakily. “I can hear Daddy’s voice.” Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head in denial. “Lucy, if this is a joke, please—please don’t do this to me. I’m begging you.”
Lucy could no longer hold herself together.
She broke down completely, sobbing into Kenneth’s chest as tears poured freely from her eyes. She shook her head over and over.
“They’re alive, Aunty,” Lucy cried. “It’s not a joke. They’re alive.”
Margaret’s legs gave out.
She collapsed, her body simply unable to process what her heart was beginning to understand. Pontione appeared in a blur, catching her just in time before she hit the floor. He gathered her against him, holding her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
Her lashes fluttered as consciousness returned.
She looked up at him with a weak smile, her eyes glassy. “I think I had the strangest dream,” she murmured. “I heard my father’s voice. It was so sweet.” She laughed faintly, delirious. “I would give anything to hear him call me his princess again.”
Pontione smiled softly, his eyes shining. “How about you don’t have to give anything at all,” he said gently. “How about you can hear him—and see him—right now?”
She chuckled weakly. “Only if I die and go to them,” she replied lightly. “Do you want me to die and leave my mate?”
“You two are mates?”
The voice came again—clearer this time.
Margaret’s head snapped up.
Reality crashed down on her in a single, overwhelming wave.
“Yes, sir,” Pontione said respectfully, lowering his head slightly. “She is my second-chance mate.”
A faint chuckle escaped the frail man on the bed. “Ha… the universe really is small,” he said, before falling silent again, exhaustion overtaking him.
“Daddy?” Margaret whispered, her voice breaking completely. “Is it really you? Please… someone tell me I’m not losing my mind.”
Pontione gently set her back on her feet. “They’re alive, my love,” he said firmly. “All of them. And they will live.”
Margaret nodded shakily and turned toward the bed. Every step felt heavy, as if she were walking through water. Her entire body trembled as she approached the man who had once been tall, strong, and commanding—now reduced to a fragile shell.
The closer she got, the clearer it became.
It was him.
Her father.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed with a broken cry, sobbing uncontrollably as years of loss, loneliness, and unanswered prayers burst out of her all at once.
“Daddy…”
There wasn’t a single dry eye in the room.
Ryan, weak though he was, turned his head and watched the scene unfold. Tears slid silently down his cheeks. He had grown up hearing whispers about this aunt—spoken of in hushed tones, as if she were a forbidden memory. Now he understood everything.
His gaze shifted to Lucy.
His sister.
Strong. Fierce. Unyielding.
She had done this.
Pride swelled in his chest, mingled with shame. Shame that he had been too weak to protect them. Too weak to fight back. He clenched his jaw, vowing silently that this would never happen again.
Margaret lifted her head, eyes swollen and red. “Daddy,” she asked shakily, “is Mommy here too? And my brother?”
Her father nodded weakly, tears filling his eyes.
“Yes, my princess,” he whispered.
And in that moment, the past finally loosened its grip.