My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172: Chapter 172 THE END

CELESTE’S POV

The Lockwood manor had never felt so suffocating.

Every chandelier shimmered with sterile perfection, every corner smelled faintly of lemon polish and wood, but underneath it all was the stench of humiliation.

Three days had passed since the end of the LST. Three days since Kieran had looked at me as if I were something pitiful, an inconvenience. And then walked away.

I’d told myself he just needed time. That after all the noise settled, he’d come crawling back like always—apologizing, rationalizing, making it up to me.

That’s how it always went. Kieran might be stubborn and proud, but he was predictable.

And he loved me.

So when his name flashed on my phone this morning, shock and hope crashed through me, my heart leaping.

“Kieran!” I said his name the way one breathes after drowning—half-relief, half-disbelief.

“Celeste.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Can we meet? There’s something I need to say in person.”

I knew it. I knew he couldn’t stay away for long.

“Of course,” I said softly, as if I hadn’t already bolted to the vanity, as if my heart wasn’t hammering loud enough to be heard through the line.

When I hung up, relief and giddy anticipation bubbled up. I nearly laughed out loud in incredulity and ecstasy.

Yes, yes, yes!

My mother appeared at my door at that moment, coat in hand, ready to leave for the cemetery.

“Is something going on?” she asked curiously.

I beamed at her. “Kieran wants to see me!”

“Oh.” Her expression shuttered, and I frowned. “Aren’t you happy?”

“I am. It’s just...” She shook her head. “You promised to visit your father’s grave with me today. You haven’t been since the funeral.”

I waved her off, already heading to my closet.

I rifled through dresses—silk, chiffon, lace. “Tell Father I’ll come tomorrow,” I murmured absently to my mother.

“Celeste, he—”

I whipped my head back. “What? It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

Her eyes widened. “Celeste!”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to my closet.

My mind spun with possibilities: the ring, Kieran kneeling before me, the headline. Celeste Lockwood and Alpha Kieran Blackthorne: The Union of Legends.

“I’ll visit soon,” I said. “I’ll even bring Kieran so he can be properly introduced as his son-in-law.” I smirked over my shoulder. “The right way, this time.”

My mother didn’t say anything as she quietly left my room and shut the door.

My hand shook as I swept blush across my cheeks. I tried to steady myself, layering on composure like war paint, focusing on each precise motion to contain my nerves.

I slipped into a sheer red dress, sleek, bold, and almost scandalously tailored to every curve.

The fabric caught the light in a way that made it seem poured over my skin, accentuating the warmth of my tan and the long, shapely lines of my legs.

When I stood before the mirror, I saw the version of me Kieran could never resist. The woman he always came back to—even after ten years. The one who could undo him with something as simple as a smile.

And as I left my room, I made a promise to myself: This time, I wouldn’t let him out of my grasp.

***

The restaurant was empty when I arrived; not a soul in sight, except for the waiter who opened the door for me. Candlelight flickered over the velvet seats and gilded walls, and a soft piano played somewhere unseen.

He’d booked the entire place.

My lips curled. My chest swelled. This was it. This was fucking it!

Kieran was already there, seated by the window. His posture was straight, his suit immaculate, his expression unreadable.

For a fleeting second, I saw the same man who had once sworn he’d protect me against the world. The man who’d been mine before Sera sank her claws into him.

Never again.

“I didn’t realize you could be so dramatic, Kie,” I teased lightly, setting my clutch down as I slid into the seat opposite him. He’d already ordered wine, and I wrapped my fingers around the cool stem of my glass.

“Booking an entire restaurant? You could’ve just proposed like a normal man.” I winked. “You know I don’t mind the audience.”

He didn’t smile.

“Celeste,” he said, his voice low, careful. “There’s something I need to say.”

Straight to the point. Oh, what a man.

I smoothed my hair, ignoring the faint prickle in my stomach. “Don’t be nervous. I promise I’ll say yes.”

“Celeste.”

The sound of my name again—firmer, colder—cut through my fantasy like a blade.

My fingers froze around my wine glass. “What is it?”

He took a breath, steady and deep. His gaze didn’t waver as his eyes locked on mine. “We need to end this.”

For a heartbeat, I didn’t understand the words. They made no sense strung together like that. “End...what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “Our relationship.”

I laughed. I actually laughed. “Oh, gods, you’re terrible at this. You nearly had me for a second.”

“Celeste—”

“No, no.” I shook my head. “You know I like theatrics, but this is a bit much, Kie. You don’t get to fake a breakup right before you propose.”

His expression didn’t shift. “I’m not joking.”

Silence cracked between us.

The candles flickered, and the piano faltered into another key.

My throat went dry. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

So I swallowed the scream, straightened my shoulders, and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “I don’t accept this. None of it.”

He frowned.

“You can hate me,” he said, standing slowly. “I’ll take the blame, I’ll handle the fallout, but this ends here. There will be no engagement, no marriage. You will not be my Luna, Celeste. I’m sorry.”

Fuck that.

I rose too, every inch of me trembling. “You’ll regret this.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll send out the invitations for our engagement party,” I replied coolly. “You’ll receive one soon. And you’ll show up. And when you see me standing there, looking stunning, wearing the dress meant for your wife, your Luna, you’ll come to your senses.”

“Celeste—”

I didn’t let him finish.

My heels clicked sharply across the marble as I turned and walked out, head high, throat tight.

The air outside was cold, biting, too bright against the dizziness spinning in my skull. I slid into my car and gripped the wheel until my knuckles ached.

I laughed through tears, disbelief swirling in my chest. “Break up,” I whispered. The words stuck, raw, surreal.

My foot hit the accelerator before reason could catch up. The city blurred around me—ribbons of traffic, sun glare, and the white blur of my reflection in the windshield.

I didn’t remember the decision to drive to the mall, but the feel of Kieran’s black card in my hand filled me with relish. I would have much preferred to claw his face off.

But this would have to do for now.

By the time I was done, Kieran’s account had taken a beating—designer coats, diamond earrings, a new clutch I didn’t need, and several pairs of heels I’d probably never wear.

The clerks, of course, were delighted. They fluttered around me like ants to sugar, their voices syrupy with compliments.

“Oh, Miss Lockwood, that shade is divine on you.”

“Would you like us to box up the entire collection?”

I let them. I let their flattery wash over me like a balm, numbing the hollow ache Kieran’s words had carved out of me.

Every swipe of his black card was another attempt to erase the sting, to buy back the illusion of control. Silk, cashmere, gold—things that used to make me feel powerful, untouchable. But today, it barely scratched the surface.

No matter how many glossy bags filled the backseat of my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was trying to fill an emptiness that had Kieran’s name carved into it.

When I pulled up to the manor again, I couldn’t believe it was just late afternoon. It felt like I’d lived in three consecutive days.

I stepped inside, exhausted, heels clicking against marble, and called out, “Mother? I’m home.”

No answer.

I sighed, setting my bags on the sideboard in the foyer. “You will not believe what happened, Mom. Honestly, I could use one of your soups right now—”

Then I froze.

At the far end of the hall, near the foot of the stairs, a small figure stood waiting with a tray in his hands, the scent of sugar and butter weaving through the air.

Daniel.

Anger consumed me in a blistering wave as I slammed the door shut.