Chester's words left her head spinning, her thoughts tumbling in confusion.
All she could think about now was Mirabelle—what if something had happened to her? Celestine just wanted to get away as quickly as possible.
But of course, Chester had to pick this exact moment to get under her skin. If he wanted a fight, fine—she wouldn't hold back.
Chester watched her, his gaze lingering on the flush of anger that made Celestine's face all the more vivid and alive. Lately, she seemed healthier, her cheeks a bit fuller, giving her a softer, more delicate beauty than before.
For six years of marriage, Celestine had always been the model wife—gracious, patient, always putting others first. She never even raised her voice at him. The woman in front of him now was nothing like that. But somehow, her defiance only made it harder for him to look away.
The faint red mark at the corner of her eye was almost gone, but it still reminded him of that day—her lying in a pool of blood, and him lifting her into his arms. If only he had stopped the children sooner, would the outcome have been different?
He found himself reaching, almost unconsciously, to brush his fingers over the fading scar at her eye.
Celestine slapped his hand away without hesitation. "Don't touch me!"
Chester's brow furrowed in annoyance.
Between them, Celia sat frozen, eyes wide, watching everything unfold.
"Stein, take Celia to the chapel," Chester instructed, rapping on the car window.
His secretary immediately got out, ushering Celia away. Even as they left, Stein couldn't stop himself from glancing back at Celestine, turmoil churning inside him. The situation between Mr. and Mrs. Fordham was clearly dire—and yet, Mr. Fordham hadn't shown the slightest sign of wanting a divorce. This would have been the perfect opportunity. Stein forced the thought aside and hurried away with Celia.
Chester turned back, ignoring Celestine's earlier suggestion about divorce. "Grandfather's birthday is next month. Come back to Portside with me."
Celestine didn't refuse outright, but her tone was cold. "I'll be there, but only as my grandfather's granddaughter—not as Mrs. Fordham."
Hearing her draw the line so clearly sent a surge of anger through Chester. "Do you have to be like this?"
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