Chapter 21 Confrontation

Chapter 21 Confrontation


Chapter 21— Susan’s POV

The silence in the room pressed down on me like a weight. Every part of my body hurt—my back, my legs, even my chest felt tight. Hunger sat deep inside me, sharp and dull at the same time. I had gone so long without proper meals that my body no longer protested loudly. It had learned to endure. Just like my heart had.

I rested my palm on my stomach, breathing slowly. The baby moved gently, and I forced myself to smile, even though my lips trembled. Just a little longer, I told myself. Once the baby was born, I would leave. I would be free.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the door until it opened.

At first, I assumed it was a maid. Maybe someone bringing water. But the air shifted instantly. The room felt colder, heavier—like something powerful had stepped inside.

I looked up.

Lucien stood there.

My heart jumped painfully. I straightened without thinking, embarrassed by how weak I must have looked. My hair was a mess, my body thinner, my face pale. I hated that he saw me like this. I hated that he could see how badly I was failing.

His eyes scanned the room, then landed on me. His expression hardened.

“Why did you tell the staff that Tabitha ordered them to stop feeding you?” he asked.

The question stunned me. I stared at him, not understanding. “What?” My voice came out rough. “I didn’t say that. I never told anyone such a thing.”

His gaze sharpened. “Then explain why you were left without food for weeks. Explain why no one told me.”

My throat tightened. I tried to answer, but his face told me he had already decided I was guilty. Whatever I said wouldn’t matter.

“I didn’t accuse anyone,” I said quietly. “I never complained. I just… stayed inside.”

He let out a slow breath, anger simmering beneath his calm. “So you expect me to believe the maids over Tabitha? You expect me to believe this happened without your involvement?”

Pain stabbed deep into my chest. I shook my head. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t plan anything. I was just trying to get through each day.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I trusted you,” he said. “I trusted that you were being taken care of. And instead, I find out you’ve been neglected under my roof. For a whole month.”

Tears burned my eyes. I looked away, ashamed—not because I had done wrong, but because I had been reduced to this. Weak. Hungry. Forgotten.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I whispered. “You were always busy. I thought… it was better to stay quiet.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he snapped. “You’re pregnant. Do you understand what that means? Do you know what could have happened to the baby?”

His words shook me. My arms wrapped around my stomach instinctively. “I did my best,” I said softly. “I really did.”

His voice dropped, rough with emotion. “When I found out, I was furious. At her. At the staff. At myself. And I was scared. Scared that something might already be wrong.”

I swallowed hard, my vision blurring. “I didn’t want trouble,” I murmured. “I only wanted peace.”

He stepped closer. For a moment, his anger wavered, replaced by something unreadable. “You don’t have to suffer like this,” he said. “You shouldn’t have been left alone.”

Something inside me snapped.

“I am alone!” I cried. “I’ve always been alone! I didn’t ask anyone to care. I learned how to survive without help!”

The words shocked even me. My chest rose and fell quickly, tears spilling freely now. “All I wanted was food,” I continued, my voice breaking. “Just enough strength to carry this baby. I didn’t ask for love. I didn’t ask for attention.”

Lucien stood frozen. His face changed—not anger now, but something heavier. Guilt.

“You can’t keep living like this,” he said hoarsely. “Not while you’re carrying my child.”

I laughed bitterly. “Then why did you leave me to live like this in the first place?”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was low. “Because I believed the wrong person. Because I thought you were stronger than you should have been forced to be.”

His words hurt more than silence.

“I’m here now,” he said. “This won’t happen again.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt nothing but exhaustion. “I don’t know how to believe that,” I said honestly. “I don’t know how to trust you anymore.”

He said nothing.

I turned my face away, my hands resting protectively on my stomach. Whether he stayed or left no longer mattered the way it once did. All I knew was that I had endured alone—and that had changed me forever.

And even if he felt regret now…

I wasn’t sure regret would be enough.