Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 191: Silent love

The carriage rattled over uneven cobblestones as Celia sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap. Across from her, her son fidgeted with the sleeve of his slightly too-large coat, his small fingers tugging at the fabric absentmindedly. The silence between them was thick, awkward, and heavy with unspoken words. Celia’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the way his thin shoulders hunched slightly, as though bracing against a weight he shouldn’t have to carry.

She hadn’t held his hand often in his life—barely at all, truthfully—but now she reached out, taking his rough little hand in hers as they neared their destination. His skin was calloused, too rough for someone so young, and the realization made her throat tighten. There were days she’d been so far gone in the haze of the red liquid that she barely noticed him, leaving him to fend for himself. That thought clawed at her now, a faint prickle of guilt she couldn’t quite ignore.

The carriage slowed to a halt outside the looming gates of the Robbens estate, the iron bars rising like dark spires against the sky. Celia exhaled sharply, gathering her composure, and stepped out, pulling the boy gently behind her. His hand felt so small in hers, a fragile reminder of the child she had long ignored. As they approached the door, she hesitated briefly, then straightened her shoulders. This had to be done.

Robbens greeted her at the door with his usual air of superiority, his expression morphing into incredulity as she introduced the boy. "This is your son," she said flatly, the words falling heavy between them.

His laugh was harsh, derisive, as though the idea were absurd. "Mine?" he scoffed, his tone dripping with disbelief. But Celia noticed the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the subtle tightening of his jaw. He knew.

She studied his face, the same face that had haunted her nightmares for years. Robbens—the man who had stolen her innocence, her childhood, and left her a hollow shell. Back then, she had been barely old enough to understand the horrors of her world, and yet he had come to her again and again, stripping away pieces of her soul with every visit.

"I suppose you forgot to use contraceptives," he sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

The words stung more than she cared to admit, her fists clenching at her sides. "I was a child," she said, her voice cold and trembling with suppressed fury. "You manipulated me, showered me with gifts, trinkets I didn’t understand, and used them to justify your depravity."

Robbens’ smirk faltered, but only slightly. "So, what? You expect me to take him in now?"

"You will," Celia said firmly, stepping closer. Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. "And you’ll treat him well. Because if you don’t, I’ll ensure the tabloids know exactly what kind of monster you are. Do you understand me?"

His face darkened, but she saw the hesitation, the calculation in his eyes. After a moment, he nodded stiffly.

Celia turned to her son, kneeling slightly to meet his eyes. He looked back at her, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. She forced herself to stay calm, to keep her voice steady. "You’ll survive here," she said softly. "Be strong, and don’t let anyone break you."

The boy nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. She placed a hand on his shoulder briefly before standing and walking away.

As she climbed back into the carriage, her hands trembled slightly. She hated Robbens with every fiber of her being, but this was the only way. She couldn’t bring her son with her. Carlton didn’t know about him, and she couldn’t bear to drag her past into the fragile hope of a future she was trying to build.

The boy would be safer here, even under Robbens’ roof. And though the thought twisted her heart, Celia knew she couldn’t let guilt consume her now. She leaned back in the seat as the carriage pulled away, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. She was leaving behind a part of herself, but perhaps, for the first time, she was choosing herself, too.

***

"Mother?" My daughter’s voice pulls me from the fog of my thoughts. I blink and turn to her, the familiar features of her face grounding me. Noelle’s question about how I met Carlton had unwittingly sent me spiraling down memory lane, dredging up emotions and moments I hadn’t visited in years.

"It’s okay, Jane," I say gently, squeezing her hand. "Just got a little lost in my thoughts."

She studies me with that sharp, intuitive look she inherited from her father. Noelle, sitting across from us, raises an eyebrow expectantly, clearly still waiting for the story I promised.

"Well," I begin, my voice light, though my heart feels heavy with the weight of the memories. "Duke Remiro was a very persistent man. No matter how much I tried to push him away, no matter how many walls I built, he refused to budge." I glance at Noelle and smile, a genuine warmth spreading through me. "And here we are, all these years later."

I can tell Noelle is dissecting my words. Wanting a relationship with Thorne feels illogical. It’s a futile longing, a part of my heart I’ve carefully boxed away. But as I think about my son, watching him as he leans into Noelle, who is laughing at something he’s said,often times when they get lost in their own world I feel a bittersweet pang of gratitude. For what it’s worth, Thorne has someone whom he would raise hell for , someone who loves him unconditionally. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? freewebnøvel.com

"He doesn’t look that way," Jane says suddenly, her tone matter-of-fact.

I blink at her, confused. "Doesn’t look what way?"

"Like he was persistent," she clarifies, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me, rich and genuine. "Ha ha ha," I chuckle, shaking my head. "He definitely doesn’t."

My mind flashes to Carlton, with his stern, brooding expression that always seemed to make everyone around him nervous. He could silence an entire room with a single glance, and yet, I had seen the softness he hid beneath that exterior. The way his hand would linger on mine just a second longer than necessary, the warmth in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

"Your father in law is a serious man," I admit, my voice quieter now, thoughtful. "But he has his own way of showing he cares. Sometimes, love isn’t loud or obvious. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet persistence, the way someone stands by you even when you’re at your worst."

Jane tilts her head, absorbing my words.

Jane couldn’t help but think her mother in law was mistaken. Anyone and everyone who had ever met Duke Remiro knew there was absolutely nothing quiet about his love for the Duchess.