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Chapter_222
Whitney’s heart thundered in her chest the moment Ludwik’s voice sliced through the tension-filled air of the boutique. Everything around her—Bryce’s careful words, Mrs. Lutz’s sharp observations, the brittle charm of the afternoon—faded beneath the weight of Ludwik’s command.
His voice was cold. Authoritative. And far too familiar.
“Call off the engagement.”
She froze. The words struck like a slap, a cruel echo of all the times he had chosen silence over truth. Whitney had clung to the illusion that this engagement—however hollow—might buy her peace, protection. Instead, it had brought him back.
Of course it had.
She slowly turned to face him, her arms crossing defensively as if shielding herself from the storm she could feel brewing behind his gaze.
“Why?” she asked, her voice steady despite the sting behind her eyes. “Why do you care now? You’ve already moved on, haven’t you?”
Ludwik exhaled smoke slowly from the cigarette between his fingers, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable. There was annoyance in his expression, yes—but also something more elusive. Something raw.
“Because I know you,” he said. “And this—” he gestured vaguely to the boutique, the gowns, the careful pretense “—this isn’t you. You’re better than this.”
The words hit her like a contradiction—half praise, half accusation. Was it concern? Jealousy? Or just another way to assert control?
Whitney’s pulse quickened. She wanted to shout, to push him away and tell him he had no right. But the weight of their history clung to her like a chain.
She took a step back, her hand brushing protectively over the curve of her belly—her constant reminder of why she was doing any of this.
“You don’t get to dictate my life anymore, Ludwik,” she said, her voice low but unwavering. “I’m not yours to rescue, or judge, or control. This is my choice.”
Ludwik’s eyes narrowed, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. He stepped forward, the distance shrinking with a quiet, suffocating gravity.
“You think you can just walk away?” he asked, his voice almost a growl. “From me? From everything we had—like it meant nothing?”
Whitney felt the tightness in her chest return, a thousand unspoken memories flashing behind her eyes. The warmth of their love. The coldness of his betrayal. The day he left her standing alone with the ruins of everything they had built.
“I’m not walking away from the past,” she said softly, firmly. “I’m moving forward—because I have to. Because you gave me no choice.”
He didn’t speak. His eyes darkened, his silence somehow louder than any argument. Then, slowly, he brought the cigarette to his lips one last time, the ember flaring before he exhaled and turned.
“I’ll give you one last piece of advice,” he said without looking back. “You’ll regret this. Mark my words.”
And then he was gone.
Whitney stood there, the silence he left behind deafening. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of everything unspoken.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t run after him. Instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, anchoring her strength in the life growing inside her. Ludwik might still hold the pieces of her heart, but he no longer held her future.
Not anymore.
