Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 177 - Hundred And Seventy Seven

The heavy oak door handle turned with a slow, deliberate metallic click.

Marissa flinched. She quickly wiped her eyes, brushing away the hot tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t want him to see her crying. She wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable yet, not after the night they had just survived.

She hid the silver locket behind her back, clutching it tightly in her fist as if it were a secret she could physically hold onto, protecting the fragile memory inside from the harsh light of the room.

The door swung open. Derek walked in.

He looked exhausted. The usual sharp, military precision of his bearing was gone, replaced by a slump of deep, bone-weary fatigue. He had taken off his heavy military coat and draped it carelessly over his arm. His cravat was gone, and he had unbuttoned his collar, exposing his throat to the cool air.

His hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration.

He looked like a man who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders all day—dealing with assassins, dead bodies, political fallout, and the terrifying prospect of losing his wife.

He closed the door behind him and walked further into the room, tossing his coat onto a chair with a heavy sigh.

"After faking your death," he said, his voice weary but practical, focused on the logistics of survival, "we must explain the situation to the family quickly to avoid panic. Grandmother is old; she will have a heart attack if she hears the rumors from the servants before she hears the truth from us."

He began to unbutton his shirt cuffs, his eyes fixed on the floor as he mentally ran through the list of problems he still had to solve. He walked toward the washbasin, not looking at her yet.

"Captain Odis said he will issue a public apology tomorrow," Derek continued, his voice devoid of triumph, splashing water on his face "For wrongful accusations. He will announce that the charges have been dropped and that the true culprit has been found. Your name will be cleared completely. The scandal will die."

He grabbed a towel and dried his face.

"Everything should be solved by tomorrow," he muttered into the cloth. "Everything should be back to normal."

He tossed the towel aside. He turned around, expecting a response. A sharp remark about his planning, a question about the timeline, or perhaps just a word of acknowledgment. Marissa was always quick to analyze the situation.

But there was only silence.

Derek frowned. The silence felt heavy, charged with something he couldn’t quite place. He turned around slowly, his shirt half-buttoned, his chest exposed.

"Marissa?" he asked, concern creasing his brow.

He saw her.

She was standing by his desk, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight. She wasn’t looking at him with her usual cold, composed expression. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were wet with fresh tears. Her posture was slumped, defeated.

She was crying.

Derek’s heart ached. It was a sharp, physical pain in his chest, tighter than any armor. He had seen her angry. He had seen her fierce. He had seen her calculating and ruthless. But he had never seen her show this level of raw, open vulnerability before. She looked small. She looked broken.

He took a step toward her. He wanted to touch her, to wipe the tears away, to hold her until she stopped shaking. He wanted to promise her that the danger was gone.

But he hesitated. His hand hovered in the air, unsure if he had the right to comfort her after everything he had put her through. He had brought Senna into their lives. He was the reason she had been targeted.

She sniffled, a small, wet sound, trying to regain her composure. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face.

"How long have you known?" she asked. Her voice was a whisper, trembling with emotion.

She brought her hand out from behind her back. She raised the locket up, the silver gleaming in the lamplight, swinging gently from its chain.

Derek swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. He looked at the locket, then at her eyes. He felt a sudden surge of fear. He was scared he had angered her by investigating her past without permission. He was scared she would think he was spying on her, invading her privacy just as he was starting to earn her trust.

"When..." he started, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, trying to find the words. "When I found out Senna wasn’t my savior... when I realized she was lying about everything... I told Ian to investigate the locket."

He took a step closer, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"He found out it was yours," Derek confessed. "He traced it back to your family history. He found the old sketches. I... I wanted to tell you immediately. I wanted to give it back to you the moment I knew. I wanted to tell you that I knew who you were."

He ran a hand through his messy hair, frustration evident in his gesture.

"But then," he said, his voice tightening, "another issue arose. Senna impersonating you. The murder. The prison. There was no time. Everything was chaos."

He looked at the locket in her hand, the symbol of their shared past.

"I wanted to tell you when I finished restoring the locket," he explained softly. "When it was perfect. When I could give it to you properly, not in the middle of a war. I wanted it to be a gift, not a confession. I’m sorry."

Marissa stared at him. She heard the guilt in his voice. She saw the love in his actions. He hadn’t just found the locket; he had fixed it. He had restored the picture of her mother, a woman he had never met, just to make her happy. He had honored her past when everyone else had tried to erase it. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

She walked toward him. Her steps were slow, hesitant.

"I..." she stammered, her voice thick with tears. "I should have confessed the first time I realized I was..."

She was about to say, "I should have told you I was the girl in the snow. I should have told you I remembered you."

But Derek interrupted her. He couldn’t wait any longer. The past didn’t matter as much as the present.

He closed the distance between them in one long stride. He didn’t hesitate this time. He reached out and cupped her face in his warm, large hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that still clung to her lashes. He looked deep into her eyes, his gaze intense and burning with a truth he could no longer hold back.

"I love you, Marissa," he said.