The gates swing open slowly as we drive into Wild Villa.
It's been over a month since I last set foot here, but nothing has changed. The hedges are still trimmed with precision, the small rose garden is in full bloom despite the passing season, and the familiar wooden doors welcome us like a quiet embrace.
Cassian steps out of the car without a word. I follow him in silence, watching as he unlocks the door and holds it open for me. His movements are slow but deliberate, as though walking back into this space takes just as much courage as everything else we've survived.
This is the home he built. Not Lucien's palace. Not the cold halls of Matica. Just Cassian. His dreams. His sweat. His pain.
We step into the sitting room, and my heart stirs. I remember our first dinner here after our honeymoon. The way he kissed my palm before saying grace. The way we curled up on the couch, laughing about nothing. The way I cried here, when I lost my child.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
He tosses his keys on the table and turns to me. His eyes are softer now. Still tired, still hurt but not running anymore.
"You didn't have to come," he says quietly.
"I did." I sit down, folding my hands in my lap. "Because wherever you are, that's home for me."
He chuckles bitterly. "Even now? After everything? After finding out who your real mother is? And who I'm not?"
I nod slowly. "Cassian, I don't care if I'm Lucien or a Weylin or the daughter of a ghost. I only care that I'm yours. And you're mine. That's the only identity that's ever mattered to me."
He swallows hard, his throat moving visibly. "Celeste…"
"I loved you before the crown, before the palace. I loved you when you barely looked at me. I loved you when we grieved together. I love you now."
I reach for his hand, and this time, he doesn't flinch. He takes it. Holds it. Stares at our fingers as though realizing he never really let go.
"I don't know who I am," he whispers. "But I know I don't want to face it without you."
I nod again, brushing a strand of hair from his brow. "You have me. And you always will. Husband. Father of my son. The man who taught me how to rise."
He looks at me with something like wonder, something like relief. "You forgive me?"
"Yes. For everything. Even for trying to send me away."
He pulls me into his arms and holds me like he'll never let go again.
And I whisper into his neck, "We'll find your family. And we'll face it, like we've faced everything else."
"I don't care where I came from," he says thickly. "As long as where I'm going is with you."
And in that house of stone and glass and memory, the one love built, we begin again.
***
Cassian stands near the windows of the large living room in Wild Villa, his hands shoved into his pockets, his breath shallow. He hasn't said a word in the last five minutes. I know he's nervous. So am I.
The familiar sound of a car door shuts outside.
"He's here," I say softly.
Cassian's posture stiffens. He turns halfway toward the door but doesn't move. I watch his jaw tighten.
A few seconds later, the front door swings open, and Ray steps inside; backpack on, his uniform a little rumpled from school, but his eyes bright with expectation.
He pauses after two steps in, scanning the room until his gaze lands on Cassian.
Neither of them moves at first.
Then Cassian takes a slow step forward.
Ray breaks into a grin. "Hi, Dad."
Cassian chokes back something; a breath, a word, maybe even a tear and stretches out his arms.
"Welcome home, son."
Ray doesn't hesitate. He drops his backpack and walks into Cassian's embrace with a boyish pride that makes my heart squeeze. Cassian holds him, not just as a father would hold his child, but as a man anchoring himself to the only truth that matters right now.
"I missed you," Ray murmurs.
Cassian holds him tighter. "I didn't even know what I was missing until now."
They finally break apart, and Ray glances at me. "I told you he'd be cool about it."
I chuckle, wiping under my eye. "You did, baby."
They sit on the couch, Ray launching straight into updates about school, comics, and the science project he's building with two friends. Cassian listens attentively, smiling, nodding, completely caught up in his son's world like he's been doing it forever.
I quietly step back, giving them space.
Esther comes to stand beside me. Her smile fades quickly as she leans in.
"The palace is on edge," she murmurs. "The Queen is recovering well, but the council is restless. They're calling for a new line of succession."
I blink. "So soon?"
"They think the royal bloodline is fractured now. With Cassian gone and your status unofficial, they're considering nominating someone from the noble High Houses."
A sharp chill creeps into my bones.
"Not yet," I whisper. "Let them wait."
I turn back toward the scene in front of me; Cassian, laughing, as Ray shows him a sketch he made at school. Father and son. A bond, no crown, no council, or throne could manufacture or destroy.
We have found each other.
And when we walk back into the palace, it won't be in pieces.
It will be as a family—whole and unshakable.