Chapter 1

"Be a decent person. Don't repeat the same mistake." The guard's final words echoed in Celeste Morin's mind as she stepped out of the prison that had consumed three years of her life. The sunlight hit her skin, warm but unfamiliar. A short distance away, a sleek Maybach idled. From it, two figures approached—one tall, one short. "Celeste, I've come to take you home." Celeste looked up, and her gaze settled on the pair. It was her husband, Damien Wrenford, and her son, Lucian Wrenford. When their eyes met, Damien froze. Was this really Celeste? Three years apart had transformed her. She was thinner—almost skeletal. The vibrant, confident woman he once knew now stood before him—frail, hollow-eyed, and visibly broken. But why? He had made sure she'd be treated well inside. Was this all an act? Memories from three years ago flooded his mind, and his expression hardened. Even if this was real, she had brought it on herself. His voice was cold and detached. "Get in the car. You've spent three years in there. That should've taught you something. Don't make the same mistakes again." Lucian was taken aback too. He remembered Celeste differently. She was gorgeous and elegant. Her smile used to light up any room. But now… he could barely recognize her. After a beat, Lucian snapped out of his daze and said coldly, "Dad's right. Lucy is kind. She forgave you. But Mom, if you ever hurt her again, Dad and I will never forgive you." "Forgive me?" Celeste's face was a mask of numbness. She stared at them in silence for what felt like an eternity, then a bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips. "The man who threw his wife into prison, and the son who helped him—do you really think you have the right to talk about forgiveness?" These two—the husband and son she had once loved more than life itself—had been the very ones to condemn her to prison three years ago. Damien had once saved her life. That was why she'd been so determined to marry him. Back then, the Wrenford family wasn't nearly as powerful as the Morins. She brought wedding gifts, her family's influence, and even went against her mother, Judy Beckham, to marry beneath her status. After the wedding, she gave up everything for the Wrenford family. Though she was gifted in traditional medicine, she set it aside, devoting herself to cooking, cleaning, and gradually fading into the role of an overlooked, exhausted housewife. She had believed, in time, she'd earn their respect. But Damien remained distant and indifferent. Even Lucian, her own son, barely cared. He would say things like, "Mom, you don't even have a job—you have no right to tell me what to do." She had convinced herself that they were just naturally aloof and emotionally distant. That was, until Damien's first love, Lucy Vale, returned. In front of Lucy, Damien was a different man—gone was the cold, aloof elegance. He smiled, and for the first time, Celeste saw the softness in his eyes—the gentleness she had never received. That was when she realized—Damien could smile like that. Just never at her. Even on their anniversary, when Celeste collapsed from complications related to childbirth, he ignored her desperate calls. Instead, he stayed at Lucy's birthday party. She barely survived the surgery, receiving multiple critical condition notices. But neither Damien nor Lucian came to see her. When she was finally discharged and came home, all that awaited her was a messy house, an ungrateful son, and a husband who didn't care. Lucian had even sneered. "You're not a good mom. You were gone for so long, and you didn't even clean! You'll never be as great as Lucy!" Clean? She'd been on the brink of death. And yet, she'd still tried to understand. Kids could say cruel things. As for Damien, he'd always been cold. Maybe, in time, things would change. So she endured. That was how the days went by—barely held together. They had a child. What was she supposed to do? Get a divorce? Then came the party—the night Lucy fell from a raised platform and immediately pointed the finger at her. Damien and Lucian didn't even bother to check the surveillance footage. They stood by Lucy without question, backing her story. Celeste had dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach, begging Damien to believe her. The gravel dug into her palms, drawing blood. But Damien didn't even flinch. Expressionless, he merely frowned and took out a handkerchief, brushing the dust off the hem of his custom-tailored suit— as if the only thing that mattered was how dirty she'd made him. Lucian shoved her, sneering, "You're a horrible woman! You don't deserve to be my mom! I wish you had died giving birth to me. Then Lucy could've been my real mother!" Celeste had collapsed in that moment, not just from the pain, but from the weight of it all. And somehow… she laughed. She laughed at how blindly she had loved them and at how foolish she'd been. In the end, they had her convicted of assault and sent her to prison. She spent three years there—three years surrounded by the most dangerous, vicious criminals—where every day was hell. Each day was a fight for survival; cruelty was a routine occurrence. And in all that time, Damien and Lucian never came to see her. Not even once. If it hadn't been for… She might've died there. Now, Damien's cold voice snapped her back to the present. "Lucian and I are willing to overlook the fact that you've been imprisoned and take you back. That's more than generous. "Lucy is waiting for us at home. Don't waste our time." Lucian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mom. Stop being so dramatic. Lucy's making teddy bear cookies for me tonight. If we don't get home soon, the ice cream cake I bought her will melt." Celeste stood there in silence as bitter irony surged over her. Teddy bear cookies? Lucian must've forgotten—she was the one who first came up with that tedious little recipe, just to make him smile. Lucy had stolen it later. And yet, when Lucy made them, Lucian insisted that they tasted better. And now here they were, standing outside a prison, thinking only of Lucy—bringing her gifts, offering her affection, not sparing Celeste even a kind word or a gift. Between her and Lucy, they had always chosen Lucy. They always believed in her and protected her. Even her own son, whom she had given birth to—Lucian's name was just a breath away from Lucy. Celeste raised her head, her voice calm and emotionless. "I'm not going back with you." Damien's eyes darkened. Irritation flared across his face. "You're not going back with us? With your record, where else could you possibly go? Celeste, it's been three years. You still haven't learned?" "That's my business. You don't want a wife with a criminal record, and I don't want a husband or a son who dragged me to hell." People would rarely learn from lectures, but from life? One hard lesson was more than enough. Three years ago, she had loved Damien and Lucian with all her heart. So even when they ignored her, resented her, and chose Lucy over her, she waited, hoping that one day, they'd come back to her. But now, after three years in hell, whatever was left of her heart had long since turned to ash. Her husband, Damien. Her son, Lucian. She couldn't afford to love them anymore—and she no longer wanted to. Celeste's voice was flat, distant. "Let's get a divorce."