I spun on my heel and stormed toward my room, ignoring Lorenzo’s scowl and Delilah’s pouting, the silence from me hitting harder than any argument could. It unsettled them, and I relished that small victory.
“Wait, Celeste!” Delilah’s high-pitched voice followed me down the hall. “Why are you ignoring me? Are… are you upset with me?”
I froze outside my door, hand tightening around the knob. Slowly, I turned to face her, meeting the glistening tears in her eyes. “And what exactly do you expect me to say?”
Her lower lip quivered, and almost theatrically, the tears began to fall. “So… you are mad at me,” she whispered, voice small, almost childlike. “I didn’t mean any harm, sister. I just wanted to help.”
I clenched my jaw so tightly it ached. I hated it. Hated the performance, hated the way she made everyone else melt—the way she twisted pity to her advantage. My father, Lorenzo, even strangers had fallen for it. And maybe… maybe it had been what destroyed my life in the first place. Delilah had learned to play the victim perfectly. I… I had been too blind, too naive to see it.
Fists curling at my sides, I remembered everything I had buried. How her mother, Helena, had been the reason my father left my real mother. How my mother had faded into grief, body and spirit worn down until she couldn’t survive. And when she died, I was thrown into their house. Into their control.
Father had been kind to me at times, yes, but Helena… she had loathed me. Every day, she made sure I felt it. The bruises, the whispered threats in the night: Tell anyone, and your father dies.
I had obeyed. Swallowed every ounce of pain, fear, and rage. Silence had been my weapon.
Not anymore.
“Celeste!” Lorenzo’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. It was sharp, angry. “You’re making your stepsister cry!”
I blinked at him, disbelief twisting into bitter laughter. “Cry? That’s on me? I didn’t even do anything!”
Delilah sniffled, fluttering her lashes. “Maybe… maybe it’s because you were angry I fitted your gown earlier? You think I’m trying to steal Lorenzo, don’t you?”
The room went still, and I let out a laugh, cold and sharp. “Oh, trust me,” I said, venom dripping from every word, “if it were up to me, I’d be glad for you to take him instead of me.”
I didn’t wait for their reaction. I turned and walked away.
But Lorenzo wasn’t done. He followed me into the corridor, hand clamping down on my wrist. “Celeste! What is wrong with you? Why are you saying things like that just days before our wedding? We’re about to be married!”
I yanked my arm free and glared. “I’m tired, Lorenzo.”
“Tired?” His eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing. “This has nothing to do with Nathaniel, right? You’ve been sneaking around with him, haven’t you?”
The air turned icy.
“You think I don’t know?” His grip tightened. “He asked you to marry him, didn’t he? Did you think I’d just stand aside? You belong to me, Celeste. Only to me.”
“You’re insane,” I spat, fury flaring.
He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath. “From now on, Nathaniel won’t even glance at you again.”
My heart skipped. “What… what are you talking about?”
Lorenzo pulled out his phone and shoved it in my face. A video played—blurry, intimate. Us. In a bed. Exposed.
Except… no. That wasn’t me. My stomach turned cold.
“You’re lying,” I hissed. “Nothing like this happened. That’s fake—edited—AI—whatever.”
His lips curved in a cruel smile. “Oh really? Then explain the scar on your breast. He knows about that too.”
My voice trembled. “You… you saw me while I was sleeping?”
He smirked, unapologetic.
“I’m warning you, Celeste,” he said low and dangerous. “If you even think about backing out of the wedding… or running to Nathaniel… this video goes public. And everyone will know.”
Tears stung my eyes, not from fear but from burning anger. “Why?” I demanded. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And I can’t stand to see you with him.”
“That isn’t love,” I snapped.
“Call it what you want,” he sneered. “In this life, you belong to me. Only me. Only my wife.”
He stormed away, leaving me trembling, one hand pressed against my chest. Damn him. Damn him and his twisted threats. He thought he could trap me, control me… Nathaniel had to know the truth. He had to.
Unless…
A thought flickered. Delilah had always wanted him. Maybe… I could use that. Push her toward Lorenzo, let her persuade Father to swap the engagement. After all, it was a business arrangement. My feelings had been irrelevant. Back then. But now? I knew better.
I headed toward Father’s office when voices stopped me—coming from the library.
I crept closer.
“…why not just be with me?” Delilah’s syrupy voice dripped with temptation. “Why waste it on her?”
Lorenzo’s laugh followed, dark and amused. “Because she owns the largest share from her father. My parents want her. You? Your mother was just a mistress. They’ll never accept you.”
My breath caught.
“But after she signs everything over,” Delilah pressed, “you’ll get rid of her, right?”
“Of course,” he replied, voice mockingly cruel. “Then it’ll just be you and me. She’s a placeholder, nothing more.”
I stifled a laugh, sharp and cold. Perfect. Keep talking. Keep proving it.
I turned to leave, but a movement down the hall froze me. My stepmother, Helena, stood in the gallery, yanking my mother’s portrait from its frame and hurling it to the floor.
“No!” I rushed forward, catching the painting, my chest tightening at the sight of my mother’s gentle painted smile. “Don’t! That’s my mother!”
Her eyes narrowed. “And I am the mistress of this house. Never forget it.”
I squared my shoulders, clutching the portrait like a shield. “And I am the legal daughter.”
Her lips twisted in anger. “So, you’re defying me?”
Before I could even react, her hand struck my face.
