Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 93

After she rushed back to the apartment yesterday, Celia was terrified and immediately told Joanna about running into Celestine.

Joanna did her best to comfort her, then casually mentioned that since moving in, she herself had never seen Celestine around the building.

In that instant, everything clicked for Celia.

So that's it. Celestine must have found out she'd moved here and had deliberately chosen to live in this complex!

Celia knew it—there was no way her mother could just let go of her and Dad so easily.

Even with amnesia, her mother was still the same sneaky, scheming woman, always working in the shadows!

Chester's gaze on Celestine deepened, colored by the words from his daughter.

He and Joanna had booked their visit to the monastery to fulfill a vow more than a week ago. It wouldn't have taken much digging for someone to find out.

What's more, they'd intentionally picked the west entrance—a side path hardly anyone used.

If Celestine hadn't done her homework in advance, there was no way they would've just bumped into each other "by coincidence."

"If you wanted to see me and Celia, Celestine, there was no need for all this drama," Chester said coldly.

Celestine didn't answer. She simply started down the steps, determined not to listen to another word. If she stayed a second longer, she might just lose her appetite for last night's chicken broth, thanks to the absurd imaginations of this father-daughter duo.

But as she passed by them, someone caught her by the wrist.

"Celestine, I'm talking to you."

Chester's voice was thick with irritation.

Celestine's eyes dropped to where his hand gripped her arm. A flash of disgust crossed her face—so brief it was almost invisible.

Chester caught the expression, and for a split second, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Was Celestine disgusted—at him?

But he dismissed the idea almost instantly. If she really couldn't stand him, she would've shaken him off right away, not put on this little act of resisting yet wanting attention.

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