Celine's POV
Max's hand froze halfway through pouring the tea.
The cup trembled slightly in his grasp, and a few drops of steaming liquid splashed onto the back of his hand. Yet he acted as if he didn't even feel it.
After a long stretch of silence, a single word slipped coldly from between his lips.
"Leave."
I pressed my lips together.
Max's dismissal stung more than I wanted to admit, but I wasn't stupid. I knew when to pick my battles.
Especially now, when I was still technically a guest under the Pierson family's roof, utterly dependent on their goodwill.
So I nodded once, turned on my heel, and walked out of the room without saying another word.
...
The weeks that followed were quiet.
I barely saw Max at all.
He was always busy, either working nonstop at the company or locked away in his study, a do-not-disturb fortress I quickly learned not to disturb.
As for me, I'd been moved into a guest room and was thrown headfirst into a crash course on how to be the "proper Mrs. Pierson."
It was intense and relentless.
Suddenly, my days were filled with private tutors, each handpicked by the Piersons.
There was an etiquette coach who could balance a tray of champagne flutes on her head while walking in heels. A finance veteran who mastered global market theory as easily as basic math. And a language expert who juggled five languages seamlessly.
They rotated through the house like a well-oiled machine, drilling me from morning till night on everything from negotiation etiquette to tilting a wine glass at just the right angle during a toast.
One afternoon, the etiquette coach, an elegant woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, paused mid-lesson and looked me over like a display model in a showroom.
"Miss Celine," she said sharply, "as the wife of a man like Sir Maxwell, you'll be expected to attend events with him. Banquets, galas, forums, negotiations—it never stops. And if you show up unprepared, you won't just embarrass yourself, but the entire Pierson family. And I promise, the consequences won't be pleasant."
Her words carried an unspoken warning, one I understood perfectly well.
Max wasn't the type to carry dead weight. I wouldn't be standing beside him if I couldn't handle my own and stand beside him without holding him back.
But I didn't need the warning. I already knew.
In my past life, Kierra had never understood that simple truth. She believed that merely being "in love" with Gavin was enough to keep her safe—that the world would treat her gently because she was fragile and cherished.
She was wrong, and that mistake cost her everything.
I wasn't about to make it, either.
Thankfully, none of the studying felt foreign to me.
I'd always been drawn to this world: the polish, the power, the strategy behind every move. Even in my past life, I wanted to learn it all.
But Gavin had made sure I never got the chance.
He kept me in his shadow, pushing me away from anything that might give me too much independence. Maybe he was scared I'd realize how little I needed him. Perhaps he just wanted to be the only one shining.
Well, not anymore.
And while I kept my head down and focused on my lessons, I couldn't help but catch bits of gossip from around the estate. Whispered conversations between staff, snippets overheard during calls, the usual chatter.
Most of it was about Gavin and Kierra.
Apparently, they were off on a European honeymoon. Romantic, expensive, exclusive.
One day, someone mentioned that Gavin had given her a rare necklace that there wasn't another like it in the world. He was spoiling her endlessly, just like in a fairytale.
Or at least, the version of it she thought she was in.
...
One afternoon, I finally had a sliver of time to myself. No lessons, no obligations.
So I decided to treat myself to something simple: lunch.
I made a reservation at my old favorite restaurant—the one I used to visit religiously before everything in my life flipped upside down. I hadn't been back since.
It felt like the right time.
But when I walked in, I unexpectedly ran into Kierra.
The last empty table was the one I had booked.
Her eyes widened slightly as she saw me, as if she hadn't expected to run into me here.
A second later, Gavin walked in behind her.
When she noticed him, she reached for his arm and leaned in, her voice sweet and syrupy. "Gavin, the last table's already taken by Celine."
Gavin's eyes landed on me, and just like that, his mood soured.
"Celine," he snapped, annoyed. Do you really have nothing better to do? Are you seriously following us around now, just to grab a table and ruin our mood?"
I blinked at him, then let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
He actually believed that.
I met his stare without flinching as I replied, "You really think the world revolves around you? You honestly believe the Darnells are in any position to go toe-to-toe with the Piersons?"
That landed like a slap.
His face darkened instantly, lips tightening.
Kierra gently tugged on his sleeve, trying to defuse him.
"Gavin, don't be upset," she cooed. "Maybe it's just a coincidence."
Then she turned to me, all wide-eyed sympathy and fake sweetness. "Celine, things must be so difficult for you at home. But hey, it's just a table. We're not going to hold it against you."
Gavin scoffed, clearly not done being petty.
"I heard you've been making regular visits to the hospital," he said, his tone laced with cruelty. "Guess the Piersons don't treat you like a person, either."
I took my time scanning both of them.
"Coming from the Darnells?" I said slowly. "That's rich. I don't think you people ever understood how to treat anyone like a person."
Gavin's face flushed red with fury. His fists clenched at his sides.
Kierra whispered something to him again, trying to calm him down.
Eventually, he freed his arm and stormed outside to get the car. And I stood unbothered, watching them come apart at the seams.
