Celestine waited until Alistair was finally out of danger.
She walked over to Chester, who looked utterly shattered.
He looked up at her, eyes clouded with emotion. “Celly… I really thought you were gone. Joanna and I—it was the alcohol. Nothing actually happened.”
Celestine’s face stayed unreadable. “I don’t care about the details or the excuses, Chester. Next Monday, we’ll be meeting at the city clerk’s office. Otherwise, I’m sure the tabloids would love to hear about how Mr. Fordham spent his wife’s funeral night in the arms of another woman, whether it’s here in Portside or back inland.”
Chester’s gaze turned cold and dangerous. “Celly, this isn’t funny.”
She smiled faintly. “You’re welcome to test me.”
Seeing how determined she was, Chester finally realized she wasn’t bluffing—she meant every word.
When had it started? When did she make up her mind? Was it because of him, or was there someone else?
Chester’s eyes flickered down to her abdomen.
No—what about the baby?
He didn’t dare ask Celestine about what she’d been through these past days, so he tried to circle around it. “Did you get checked by a doctor after you were rescued?”
“There’s not exactly a hospital out at Dreadmire Hamlet,” Celestine replied, her smile turning icy. “But thanks to you, I’m still alive and kicking—not quite at death’s door yet.”
Chester let out a short breath of relief.
If she’d lost the baby, she wouldn’t be here negotiating—she’d probably be meeting him at the police station instead.
He frowned. “Celly, is there really no way back from this?”
“I don’t feel like repeating myself.” Celestine shot him a frosty glance. “I have no interest in a cheating husband.”
Chester’s handsome face twisted in shame and anger.
He couldn’t understand—just one mistake, and she had to make it into something so dramatic?
Even if something had happened with Joanna, a man of his status… shouldn’t a wife be more understanding? More forgiving?
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