I didn’t answer.
She continued, desperate now.
“Back in middle school, when you barely had enough to eat, it was Alden who spent his allowance to share a meal with you. Don’t you remember that?”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
I nodded.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Why not now?”
“Do you want me to die before you’ll finally speak?”
I stayed silent, then slowly shook my head.
“It wasn’t her who died that night,” I said.
“It was me.”
The truth would come out—without my help.
The murderer would be exposed sooner or later.
But if I told her everything now, I feared Celeste would lose her mind.
So I waited.
---
As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long.
Within a month, the court overturned the verdict and acquitted me.
I was released.
My mind was a storm of confusion.
Outside, parked at the gate, a Rolls-Royce was waiting.
Celeste stood beside it.
Neither of us spoke on the ride home.
The silence between us was heavier than chains.
Only after we entered the house did I finally say, “Thank you.”
She paused. But she didn’t look at me.
She went upstairs without a word.
“Gideon,” she called from the staircase. “You’re such a bastard.”
I smiled faintly.
Tears slid down my face.
---