Chapter 12 - Celeste’s Choice
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A week later, a quiet knock sounded at the front door of my brownstone.
I opened it to find Celeste standing on my porch. She was wearing simple black trousers and a trench coat, no makeup, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were clear.
"May I come in?" she asked quietly, holding a small pink gift bag. "I won't stay long."
I stepped aside, allowing her into the warm foyer.
She set the gift bag on the hall table. Inside was a hand-knitted cashmere baby blanket and a silver rattle.
"I wanted to apologize," Celeste said, her hands buried in her coat pockets. "For what I said in that text six months ago. The one about dignity."
"Dominic told you I was an ungrateful ex trying to ruin his life," I said gently. "You believed the man you were about to marry."
"I was an idiot," Celeste said bitterly, tears welling in her eyes. "He made me feel like I was his savior. He told me you were cold, unloving, and incapable of building a family. Then I walked into that hospital room and saw how he looked at you... like you were a threat he needed to eliminate."
"He fears what he cannot control," I said.
Celeste pulled an envelope from her pocket and handed it to me.
"My annulment was granted this morning," she revealed. "And my father asked me to deliver this to you. It's the final signed transfer for Clara's trust fund."
I took the envelope, looking at her with genuine sympathy.
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"What are you going to do now, Celeste?"
"I'm leaving for London tomorrow," she smiled faintly. "I'm going to finish my master's degree in art history. I'm done letting men use my father's money to build their thrones."
