Before I could even think, my hand moved on its own. Smack.
The sharp sound echoed through the hall. Helena’s eyes flew open, her hand flying to her cheek. “You… you dare hit me?”
“Yes,” I ground out, my voice shaking, raw with years of bottled-up fury.
Her face twisted in rage. She yanked at my hair, dragging me toward the stairs. “Ungrateful little brat! Hitting your stepmother? You need to learn a lesson!”
“Let go!” I clawed at her hands, but she didn’t relent. She shoved me into the room, slamming the door behind us. And then her palm met my face again. And again. Over and over. My skin stung, my ears rang, my head swam.
“Stop!” I screamed, tears scalding my cheeks. “Stop, or Father will find out! He’ll—”
Her face leaned close, breath sharp and poisonous. “And then what? You’ll stress him? You’ll risk his fragile health? You want his death on your hands?”
The strikes didn’t end. One. Two. Ten. A hundred. My face throbbed, my knees wobbled, but I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
A creak at the door. Lorenzo.
A flicker of relief sparked… then died as he leaned against the frame, smirk curling on his lips. “She deserves it,” he said coldly. “For being nasty to your stepsister.”
And he walked away.
Another blow landed, and this time, the weight of betrayal pressed down harder than the pain itself.
Then came the voice that finally made her stop.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Father.
The door swung open, and he stood there, red-faced, a storm of shock and fury.
“She hit me!” Helena cried immediately, clutching her face as if she were the victim. “Your daughter slapped me!”
Father turned his gaze on me, stern, disappointed. “Celeste. Is this true? I never taught you such behavior.”
I shook my head, words tumbling out in desperation. “No! She was throwing Mother’s painting to the floor. I was only protecting it—”
His expression hardened. “That painting is my choice. I don’t want reminders of the dead cluttering this house. You should have obeyed.”
My breath caught. His words weren’t his own—they were hers, poisoning him from the inside out.
“Apologize to your stepmother,” he said, voice firm.
The world tilted. Pride screamed inside me, but his eyes left no room for refusal. I clenched my jaw until it hurt, and forced out the word. “Sorry.”
Helena’s lips curled in triumph.
Once they left, I collapsed against the floor, pressing my shaking hands to my sore cheeks. Silent tears ran freely, despair pressing down like a weight ready to crush me.
Then clarity.
Not this time.
I wouldn’t waste this second chance. I wouldn’t let them destroy me again. I would survive. Rewrite everything. Only days remained before the wedding. Days I would use to seize control of my fate.
That night, I began moving my assets. Every penny legally mine, every document and account, I shifted where Helena could never touch it—no matter what schemes she tried, no matter what happened to Father.
Then I went to him.
“Father,” I whispered, stepping into his study. He looked smaller, weaker than I remembered.
“Celeste? What is it?”
I drew a deep breath. “Please… don’t drink what Helena gives you. Don’t sign anything over to her. I know you won’t believe me, but she’s been hurting me. If you care about me even a little, don’t let her destroy you.”
Confusion clouded his eyes. “Celeste—”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. I turned and left. He wouldn’t believe me—not yet. But maybe… just maybe, a seed of doubt had been planted.
By morning, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Lorenzo.
“Where are you?” His tone was sharp, accusatory. “Why didn’t you come home? What are you trying to do?”
My chest tightened, but I forced myself into the living room. The muted television cast a cold blue glow across the walls. I grabbed the remote, turned up the volume, and froze.
There I was. My face. My name.
Celeste Arden: Two Birds, One Stone? Heiress Plays With Hearts, Old Flame Reappears.
My pulse slammed in my ears as the anchor droned on, each word twisting like a knife.
“Just days before her wedding to Lorenzo Santoro,” the woman said, voice smooth, almost gleeful, “Celeste Arden was spotted with Nathaniel Sinclair, heir to the Sinclair fortune. Rumors suggest an intimate dinner… and questions arise whether she’s playing both men. Is this the biggest scandal of the year?”
My hands shook violently, nearly dropping the remote.
“It’s not true,” I ground out.
“Then come home. Now,” came the next message from Lorenzo.
I walked in reluctantly.
As soon as I stepped through the door, a sharp slap landed on my face.
Helena’s hand. Again.
This time, Father caught her wrist midair. “Enough! Violence will solve nothing.”
She huffed but obeyed, hiding a victorious smirk behind downcast eyes.
“What is happening here?” Father demanded.
“It’s not me!” I cried. “I’ve done nothing. Someone is spreading lies. Maybe they want to ruin the wedding!”
“This is why you are unfit for the Sinclair family,” Helena said, sweetness dripping from her tone. “Delilah should be marrying him, not you.”
Father paused. Then slowly, almost reluctantly, he nodded.
“Delilah marrying Lorenzo… that would solve everything,” he said, calm now. “Scandal disappears. And if Celeste admits her feelings for Nathaniel, the merger can still happen. Two birds, one stone.”
I blinked, stunned. He was serious.
Delilah shook her head, wringing her hands. “No, Father… I can’t. They love each other. I won’t ruin their happiness. I could never make Celeste hate me.”
False. All of it.
Father cut her off. “No. That’s final. Delilah will marry Lorenzo. I’ll handle his parents; they’ll agree once this scandal breaks.”
I didn’t argue. Didn’t need to. For the first time, I felt satisfaction.
Let Delilah have him. Let her rot in the hell I barely escaped.
That night, I messaged Nathaniel.
You didn’t believe him, did you?
His reply was instant. Of course not. Since your wedding is off… I’ll see you soon.
I hesitated, then typed again.
Can you do me one more favor? Help me fake my death.
