Chapter 2

"Mom, you've been to prison and now you want a divorce? What do you think people will say about you?" Lucian blurted out without a second thought. Even Damien was caught off guard. He had expected Celeste to play the victim and beg for compensation—after all, she had only married into the Wrenford family for the wedding gifts. But divorce? That was the last thing he expected. Especially not from the woman who, three years ago, had done everything she could to stay by their side. And now, after spending three years in prison? Clearly, this was just another ploy to get them to feel sorry for her. Damien's voice turned cold. "Lucian's right. If you leave the Wrenford family, where else could you possibly go? Keep this up, Celeste, and you're just making a fool of yourself." Celeste didn't even flinch. She calmly hailed a cab, ignoring the curious glances from the driver. Before getting in, she turned back to face Damien and Lucian. "That's my business. I'll send over the divorce papers soon. Congratulations—now that we're divorcing, you're free to have Lucy as your wife and his mother." Her voice was icy and detached. With that, Celeste got into the cab and never looked back. Damien stood there watching her slight, unsteady figure disappear into the distance. For some reason, an unfamiliar irritation crept up his chest. He'd only come because Lucy and Alaric Wrenford had insisted. And this was what he got? A divorce? The old Celeste would've fallen to her knees in gratitude. Now, he would just wait and see how far a woman with a criminal record thought she could go. … Celeste slid into the back seat. As luck would have it, the cab's small screen flickered on, playing Lucy's interview video. "Lucy, you've quickly risen to become one of the top-tier actresses of our time. Have you given any thought to your love life?" the reporter asked with a playful smile. On screen, Lucy's eyes drifted toward the audience where Damien and Lucian sat. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "I'm happy with everything I have right now. After all, I've had two amazing men by my side for the past three years, supporting me through it all." The camera cut to Damien and Lucian, the perfect picture of a warm, supportive family. The driver, clearly familiar with the gossip, glanced at Celeste in the rearview mirror and said casually, "Guess you've been away too long to know what's going on, huh? That's Ms. Vale on the screen. "The guy and the kid from Wrenford Corporation are her husband and son. On her birthday, Mr. Wrenford lit up the whole night sky with fireworks. Real golden family, that one—can't miss 'em." Celeste finally looked up. She seemed swallowed by her oversized clothes, with her thin frame nearly lost in the fabric. Her eyes lingered on the screen for a long moment. Then, in a voice hoarse from disuse, she murmured, "Golden? All I see is garbage." While she'd been beaten and humiliated behind bars, they were out celebrating, building Lucy up, and watching fireworks light the night sky. Even after everything—even after going numb from their coldness—it still felt like a slap in the face. The driver opened his mouth, then closed it again. Maybe it was the fact that he'd picked her up right outside the prison gates, or maybe it was the way she looked like a stiff breeze might knock her over—either way, he stayed silent. Celeste closed her eyes and leaned back, pretending to rest. The cab pulled up in front of a house—one of the few properties still under Celeste's name. She went inside to get cash for the fare, then headed to the nearest supermarket to pick up some essentials. When she'd been arrested three years ago, all her assets had been frozen. Now that she was out, she could at least afford the basics. But it had been too long since she'd been around people. Everything felt unfamiliar. Even when the cashier reached over to scan her groceries, Celeste instinctively flinched. "Miss, are you okay?" the cashier asked gently. Snapping back to reality, Celeste gave a bitter smile and shook her head. She was fine. She was just used to being hit. On her way out of the store, her phone buzzed. Her best friend, Annie Cooper, came through the line. Her voice was emotional and full of warmth. "God, Celeste—I wanted to fly back sooner, but the typhoon grounded all the flights. Are you still at the Wrenford residence, or..." "I'm at Aviso Tower," Celeste said. Annie frowned. "Didn't Damien pick you up? You're still married, after all—he should've—" "Annie," Celeste cut her off. "I'm divorcing him."Her voice was soft while her fingers clenched around the phone. Before prison, Annie had been her closest friend. She'd warned her more than once not to lose herself in a husband and a child and encouraged her to get a divorce. But Celeste had kept waiting for Damien to come around. "What happened to you in…" Annie's voice cracked, and the question hung unfinished in the air. Annie visited frequently in the beginning. But she'd later been sent abroad to report on war zones. And now, three years later, the woman who once clung to hope was insisting on a divorce. What had broken her? Celeste didn't answer. But in her eyes, pain flickered—sharp, then dull, then buried. Annie switched the subject. "After your arrest, your aunt took over Maple Hill Estate and even turned it into a tourist site. And Lucy… well, there's a lot. I'll tell you everything once I'm back." "Okay," Celeste said slowly. Her father, Bruce Morin, had died the second year after her wedding. While she was in prison, Judy had cried herself blind, then fallen gravely ill. Celeste had begged Damien for help and pleaded with him to save her. She waited and waited, but all she received was a death notice. And now, even her inheritance had been taken. Her expression turned icy, but the pain was quickly masked by a calm that was too still to be natural. Three years behind bars had changed everything. She'd been through hell in prison, and if she wanted to reclaim what was hers, she would need some time.