Mirabelle took off her sunglasses.
Her beautiful eyes were terribly swollen.
Anyone could see she’d been crying.
Celestine froze, caught off guard.
But as Mirabelle noticed her gaze, fresh tears started streaming all over again.
Celestine’s brow furrowed in concern. “Mirabelle, what happened? Who hurt you? Was it that bastard Zeke Sterling?!”
Mirabelle laughed through her tears, dabbing at her cheeks. “No, I’m just so happy.”
When she’d suddenly heard the news that something had happened to Celestine, Mirabelle was still abroad preparing for a film festival.
She’d wanted to fly back three days ago, but the studio pressured her to stay. She held out until she’d finished the red carpet, then took the earliest red-eye flight home.
The entire way back, she’d scrolled through photos of Celestine, replaying memories of their time together, unable to stop crying.
Why is it that good people never seem to last long?
Why did everyone who treated her kindly always end up leaving?
She’d even imagined the worst—Celestine dying. If that happened, once she dealt with Zeke, she’d drag Joanna down with him for good measure.
Celestine gently patted her back.
Mirabelle whispered in her ear, “I was already plotting to steal all of Joanna’s gigs for the next three years—leave her washed-up and forgotten, all for your revenge.”
Celestine let out a soft laugh.
She understood—this was the biggest thing Mirabelle could do for her, given her own limited means.
Crystal Lennox smiled as well. “I can vouch for her—she meant every word.”
During the days Celestine was gone, Crystal had barely slept.
As Celestine’s mutual friend, she’d get late-night calls from Mirabelle, the two of them mourning together until sunrise, Mirabelle crying her voice hoarse.
The more Celestine learned, the more guilt gnawed at her.
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