Chapter 169: Time To Tell The Truth
The silence stretched awkwardly as we took in each other's appearances. Scarlett's face turned the same shade as her dress while Peter fumbled with his shirt buttons.
"Uh..." Scarlett tried to smooth down her hair. "We were just... the light in there was broken."
Peter nodded frantically. "Yeah, totally broken. We were trying to fix it."
Sable raised an eyebrow. "Fix it?"
I glanced pointedly at the red smudge on Peter's collar. "Looks like you got pretty hands-on with the repairs."
Scarlett's face went nuclear. She whirled on Peter. "This is your fault!"
"My fault?" Peter spread his hands innocently. "You're the one who said you needed to touch up your makeup—"
"Touch up my—" Scarlett cut herself off, mortified.
The tension ratcheted higher as both women processed what they were seeing. Then, almost in perfect synchronization, they pointed at each other.
"Scarlett, what are you doing with him?" Sable demanded.
"Sable, what are you doing with him?" Scarlett shot back.
Both women glared at their respective male companions, then at each other with dawning understanding.
"So we've both been..." Scarlett began.
"Apparently so," Sable finished dryly.
Scarlett grabbed Sable's arm. "Honey, I think we need to talk. Privately."
"I was thinking the same thing." Sable nodded firmly.
The two women linked arms and marched away without a backward glance, leaving Peter and me standing in their wake.
Peter watched Scarlett disappear around the corner, then slumped against the wall. "Fuck my life."
He ran both hands through his already-messed hair. "Do you know what just happened in there? She was all over me, man. Whispering in my ear about how she 'needed' me, how she couldn't control herself around me anymore."
I remained silent, my eyes still fixed on the direction Sable had gone.
"And now?" Peter continued his rant. "Now she's looking at me like I'm some kind of disease she accidentally caught. Like she can't get away fast enough."
He kicked at the wall in frustration. "I swear, that woman is going to be the death of me. One minute she's pulling me into dark corners, the next she's pretending we barely know each other."
Finally, he seemed to register my silence. "Although, looking at you right now, I'm feeling pretty good about my situation. At least Scarlett only gives me emotional whiplash. Sable looks like she wants to actually murder you."
I turned to face him, my expression grim. "Peter."
"Yeah?"
"It's time."
He blinked. "Time for what?"
"To tell the truth. About Elena. About everything."
Peter straightened, suddenly serious. "You mean...?"
"I can't do this anymore. Watching her hate me, watching her think I'm the kind of man who would cheat on a pregnant woman..." I clenched my fists. "I'd rather face Lucian with my bare hands than see that look in her eyes again."
Peter clapped me on the shoulder. "About damn time, brother. I was wondering how long you could keep up this martyrdom act."
Then his expression shifted to something more mischievous. "Though I have to say, seeing you get royally dumped by a woman makes me feel so much better about my own pathetic love life."
I shot him a deadly look.
He held up his hands, grinning. "Hey, remember when you used to mock me for being single? Well, look who's the pathetic one now. Karma's a beautiful thing."
"Peter—"
"No, no, let me enjoy this moment," he continued, clearly delighted. "The great Caelan Blackwood, reduced to begging his ex-girlfriend for scraps of attention while she treats him like garbage. It's poetic justice."
My phone rang, cutting off whatever murderous response I might have given.
"Edward." I answered curtly. "What is it?"
"Your Majesty. We found Lucian's location."
I ended the call with Edward and immediately drove back to meet him. We had a private jet ready within thirty minutes.
As we flew toward the destination, Edward spread files across the table between us.
"Your Majesty, I need to brief you on this location."
"Speak."
Edward pulled up aerial photos on his tablet. "This village is called Saint Mary Village. It's extremely remote. When Melissa fled there with Lucian, she chose it specifically because it was hidden enough."
I studied the grainy photos of narrow mountain roads and scattered buildings. "When did Melissa die?"
"Five years ago. Lucian was twenty-five at the time. According to our investigation, she died of pneumonia. The medical conditions were too poor—they couldn't save her."
Edward swiped to another screen, showing photos from inside a small wooden cabin. "This is the house where they lived. Looks modest, but..."
I took the tablet from him. The photos showed Lucian and Melissa together, both smiling genuinely. Mother and son looked happy despite their obvious poverty.
"Although no one's lived there for years, Lucian has been secretly maintaining it. Every year on Melissa's death anniversary, he returns quietly."
"He considers it his last sanctuary."
Edward nodded. "Exactly. If he's really there, it means he's run out of options."
The plane touched down on a small airstrip. We continued by car, the vehicle bouncing along mountain roads that seemed more suited for goats than automobiles.
Edward leaned forward from the driver's seat. "The cabin should be just ahead."
I could see lights glowing through the trees. "There are lights on."
"But it's too quiet. Doesn't feel like anyone's home."
After parking, Edward signaled the warriors who had followed in separate vehicles. They moved with practiced precision, surrounding the small cabin within minutes.
Edward pushed open the front door. The interior was empty, but signs of recent occupation were everywhere—still-warm ashes in the fireplace, a half-eaten meal on the table.
Edward knelt beside the fireplace, holding his hand near the dying embers. "The fire's still warm. He left not long ago."
"Seems our movements were exposed."
Edward straightened. "Your Majesty, should we continue pursuing?"
I walked to the window, looking toward the cemetery in the distance. "No. We're going to the graveyard."