Celeste’s body tensed—but she didn’t leave. She waited.
I glanced at Damien’s feigned look of concern. Slowly, I reached behind me and pulled out a box of Ritz crackers. I held it out.
“Don’t forget this.”
Celeste stared at it in disbelief. Her anger boiled over.
She snatched the box and flung it at my face.
“You bastard!” she snapped, turning on her heel and storming off.
Damien reached for the doorknob and, with deliberate care, closed the door.
He lingered a moment, red lips lifting in satisfaction. Then—slam. The lock clicked shut.
I sagged against the wall, fingers gripping my shirt.
No… not yet. Just wait. Wait a little longer.
---
I searched every corner of the massive manor before finding a small, dusty first aid kit. I patched myself up as best I could.
For an entire month, Celeste didn’t come home.
Then one day, the front door burst open with a loud bang.
Celeste stumbled in, supporting a bloodied Damien. Behind her, a private medical team rushed in—the same elite team that had once been assigned to me, back when Alden was alive.
They had been dismissed after his death.
Now, they were back—but not for me.
I leaned weakly against the wall, watching the scene unfold.