Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 451

Chapter 451: Prove Myself
Frederick’s POV

The night air was sharp against my skin, but I barely felt it.

The woman you killed.

Those words wouldn’t leave me. They echoed through my head again and again, louder each time I thought about them.

I staggered toward the far end of the garden, stopping by the pool. The water shimmered. My reflection looked back at me—pale, tired, broken.

I thought of Deborah.

That name alone was enough to drag me years into the past. The young woman who worked beside me… brilliant and stubborn. The woman who smiled even when we argued over experiments, who believed she could change the world.

I remembered the letter she left behind, written in haste: “There’s an emergency. I have to return home. I’ll explain everything soon.”

That was the last thing I ever heard from her. I searched for months. Sent messages, called in favors. Nothing. I thought she’d left, but I didn’t know that all this while she was dead—and I was pinned as the killer.

Poison.

I sent a maid.

I killed her.

I pressed a trembling hand against my face, trying to steady my breathing. “No,” I whispered to myself. “I can be a monster, but killing Deborah? That was the last thing on earth I would ever do.”

Then came the cruelest realization of all…Selene.

Deborah’s daughter.

It made sense now—her intelligence, her temper, the way she looked at me sometimes, like she knew me before she actually did.

And Hailee… when she said she was descended from Hailee, it felt like the ground shifted beneath me. The same bloodline. The same aura. The same face that haunted my dreams for centuries.

I cursed under my breath, running a hand through my hair. “Damn it.”

Everything was becoming suffocating.

But one thing was clear.

I couldn’t lose her. Not to hatred. Not to lies.

“I’ll prove it,” I murmured to myself. “I’ll prove I didn’t kill Deborah. I’ll find the truth. I’ll make her believe me.”

My reflection wavered in the water as I whispered again, firmer this time, “I’ll prove it to you, Selene… I will.”

Taking a deep breath, I decided to go back into the mansion to see how things were. I should have gone home. After everything that happened tonight, after Selene’s words, the last place I should be was here.

But I couldn’t leave.

Not when she looked broken, lost, and exhausted.

When I reached Lennox’s room, the door was half-open. The smell of herbs and medicine hit me first. Inside, the healers were still working, their chants low, their hands glowing faintly as they moved around Lennox’s still body.

And there she was.

Selene sat beside the bed, her shoulders slumped, her hair falling messily over her face. Her clothes were rumpled, her hands stained with magic dust as she helped the healers prepare another mixture. She looked completely drained—like she hadn’t slept in days, like she was one breath away from collapsing.

For a moment, I just stood there, watching her. Every instinct in me screamed to walk over, to pull her into my arms, to let her cry into my chest and tell her she didn’t have to carry all this alone.

But I knew better.

She wouldn’t let me. Not now.

I stepped into the room slowly, my voice gentle. “You need to rest, Selene.”

Her head snapped up. When her eyes met mine, they were red and tired but still full of hatred for me.

“It’s none of your business,” she said flatly, her voice hoarse but strong enough to sting.

I took another step closer, ignoring the warning in her tone. “You haven’t closed your eyes once since this began. You’ll collapse if you keep going like this.”

She turned away, mixing the magic dust. “Then let me collapse,” she muttered. “At least that’s something I can control.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to argue, but the pain in her voice stopped me. She was grieving—maybe not for Lennox alone.

I sighed quietly and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Selene… I’m not.”

She didn’t respond. She just kept working, pretending I wasn’t there.

For a while, I stood at the door, my attention fixed on the exhausted Selene, who was still trying to help the healers. Suddenly, her hands trembled as she tried to grind the last bit of magic dust. I could see the exhaustion in every movement—the way her shoulders sagged, the way her breathing quickened.

“Selene,” I said quietly, “you need to stop.”

She ignored me, mixing faster. “I’m fine,” she muttered, even though her voice wavered.

Then, before I could take another step forward, the bowl slipped from her grasp and shattered against the floor. She swayed—once, twice—then her knees buckled.

“Selene!”

By my speed ability, I caught her before she hit the ground. Her head fell against my chest, her eyes barely open.

“Enough,” I whispered, my voice low but firm. “Enough of this stubbornness.”

She mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear, maybe telling me to let her go, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin was warm, her pulse faint but steady.

“You can hate me,” I said softly, tightening my hold on her. “You can despise me all you want. But I won’t stand here and watch you destroy yourself.”

I lifted her into my arms. She was lighter than I expected… far too light. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breathing shallow but even.

I didn’t know the Luciano mansion well, but I moved through the corridors quietly, searching for a place to lay her down. My boots echoed softly on the marble floor until I found a small guest room at the end of the hall.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. I laid her gently on the bed. She stirred faintly, her lips parting as if she wanted to protest, but she was too exhausted to fight me.

“Rest,” I whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “Just rest.”

For a long moment, I stood there beside her bed, watching her breathe. Every rise and fall of her chest felt like proof she was still here—alive, angry, and somehow still beautiful even when she hated me.

I turned toward the door, whispering under my breath, “I’ll go make you something to eat.”

But as I stepped out of the room, I came face-to-face with Louis. He stood there, his expression grim.

“We need to talk,” he said.