Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 59

Gideon's kindness left her flustered and uncertain.

She couldn't help but wonder—had he ever used that salve himself, with those terrible scars on his hands?

In the car, Gideon waited for a message from Celestine, but none came.

Instead, his phone buzzed with a flood of texts from his grandfather.

Sifting through his grandfather's usual barrage of blunt, irritable remarks, Gideon figured out that Celestine must have run into the old man while picking something up. Apparently, his grandfather had already explained the ointment's effects and how to use it.

By now, she should be home, reading his messages, shouldn't she?

Gideon's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.

Still no reply?

"Sir, there's news from the port," Vernon reported, stepping forward. "The Sterlings and the Fordham family are making new moves, reaching out to the Winslow family and trying to poach their partnership."

Gideon didn't look up from his paperwork. "Keep the pressure on."

"Yes, sir," Vernon replied evenly. "By the way, the scar cream we ordered from overseas for Miss Selwyn has arrived. Should I deliver it to her?"

Gideon paused, fingers motionless over the files. "No, that won't be necessary. I already gave her the ointment I got from my grandfather."

Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief.

His grandfather? Did he mean the legendary Dr. Clifton—the nation's top medical authority, whose prescriptions were priceless and nearly impossible to obtain?

Dr. Clifton was known for making miracle cures, never easily parted with. And yet, Gideon had just handed Miss Selwyn one of his rare ointments without a second thought?

Vernon's shock was written all over his face.

"Ah… Yes, sir. Then she's very fortunate indeed."

Portside City.

It had been over a month since Raymond was brought back to Portside City by Alistair.

Aside from his regular classes, his great-grandfather had hired a private tutor to drill him daily in etiquette and the family's old-fashioned rules.

Raymond was miserable.

Today was the weekend, and he'd barely had a moment to himself before being made to copy out page after page of handwriting practice all afternoon.

Whenever he paused, his stern tutor would smack his palm with a ruler.

He tried complaining to his great-grandfather, but only got scolded for being weak.

"If you can't even handle this, you're not fit to be the Fordham family's heir!"

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