Chapter 3

When Damien and Lucian returned to the Wrenford residence, Lucy was already waiting with a full table of home-cooked dishes. Noticing Celeste was nowhere in sight, Lucy quickly got the full story. She sighed. "Damien, is Ms. Morin refusing to come back because she's still bitter about what happened three years ago? "After all, she did serve time. But where else could she possibly go if not here?" "Let her be," Damien replied with a chilly tone. Still, he couldn't shake the image of Celeste from his mind. She'd lost so much weight, and even her whole demeanor had changed. Her eyes practically burned with resentment. Could she have really suffered that much in prison? No. Absolutely not. He dismissed the thought immediately. Lucy had told him before that the women's prison was a friendly, decent place. Besides, he'd pulled strings to make sure she was taken care of. She had food, clothes, and a roof over her head. For someone guilty of a crime like hers, three years inside was little more than being grounded. Even so, Lucy looked worried. "Still… if she doesn't come back, what are we supposed to tell Mr. Wrenford Senior if he asks? He specifically told you to pick her up from prison." Celeste had once saved Alaric's life. Since then, he had shown her nothing but favor. He'd even pushed Damien to marry her, going so far as to give lavish wedding gifts to make it happen. Even after she was imprisoned, Alaric never changed his stance—Celeste was the only granddaughter-in-law he would ever acknowledge. But Damien was unfazed. "Don't worry. She won't stay away for long. She's mad at me, not Lucian. His graduation is just a few days away. She won't miss that." Lucian had skipped three grades and was graduating from elementary school at the age of nine. Everyone knew how much Celeste adored Lucian. There was no way she'd miss such a proud moment. Lucian pouted and snuggled into Lucy's arms, murmuring, "But I want you to come to my graduation, Lucy." Lucy tapped his nose with a smile. "Alright. As long as you can talk your mom into coming back, I will go with you. After all, with her criminal record, she's not exactly the best fit for that kind of event." Lucian froze. Talk her into coming back? Was Lucy asking him to lie? His eyes flickered with hesitation, but just for a moment. If his classmates found out that Celeste had been in prison, they might not want to be friends with him anymore. And since Damien didn't object, Lucian nodded quietly. Lucy smiled and glanced at the food she had prepared. "Such a shame, though. I made all this just for Ms. Morin, and now it's going to waste." But two days passed, and there was still no word from Celeste. It was as if she'd made up her mind to get a divorce—and cut Damien and Lucian out of her life completely. Damien's frown deepened. He finally picked up his phone and tried calling her. But the number had been disconnected. He blinked, stunned, before it hit him—Celeste had been in prison for three years. Of course, her old number was out of service. Even her social media had been deleted. He had no way to reach her. A flicker of unease stirred in his chest. Damien immediately barked at his secretary, "Find out Celeste's current address and phone number! She's out of prison now—she can't go around tarnishing the Wrenford family's name!" … Meanwhile, Celeste had been busy redecorating Aviso Tower over the past two days. Following her divorce from Damien, she would have been entitled to half of the marital assets. But until then, she had to support herself. So, she decided to return to an old passion—carving emeralds. For the past three years, Aviso Tower had sat untouched, gathering dust. As she cleaned, something struck her—the guardian gargoyles she'd once placed were gone. She called the property management. "Three years ago, Ms. Vale was injured by a crazed fan. Mr. Wrenford and Mr. Lucian brought the gargoyles to Ms. Vale's villa. They said those gargoyles would protect her." Celeste didn't even flinch. She had carved those gargoyles herself—painstakingly, with her own hands—for Damien and Lucian. They were meant to protect and watch over them. Damien had tossed them aside, calling them vulgar and crude before giving them back without a second thought. But what she hadn't expected was that they had actually given her guardian gargoyles to Lucy. They tossed aside her heartfelt gift, only to dress it up and repackage her love as if it were their own. Without a second thought, Celeste hung up and dialed 911. When the operator picked up, her expression was calm and steady. "I'd like to report a theft. Something was stolen from my home." She hung up afterward. By the time the police finished taking her statement, Celeste was utterly exhausted. Only after they left did she notice how hot her body felt. She dragged herself to the hospital for some pills. But when the doctor saw her scars, his expression turned grim. "You have far too many old injuries, and most didn't heal properly. This isn't just bruises and cuts. "There are signs of repeated blunt force trauma, and what looks like needle punctures. Your body is worn down and fragile. I strongly suggest you stay here for proper treatment. If you don't—" "That won't be necessary." Celeste cut him off. Her eyes were numb and distant. She knew her body better than anyone. She'd studied traditional medicine all her life. The people in prison were vicious, and most of her injuries had been inflicted where guards wouldn't notice. If she hadn't known how to treat herself, she probably wouldn't have made it out alive. She hadn't died in prison, so why would she let herself fall apart now? But the cruelest part of it all was knowing these wounds weren't from strangers. They were gifts from the man she once shared a bed with and the child she carried for ten long months. The irony was almost laughable. Celeste silently vowed never to return to the Wrenford family again. As the doctor changed her bandages, Lucian spotted her from across the hall. He tugged on Damien's sleeve and pressed his lips."Dad, why is she at the hospital? Is she sick?" Only then did Damien look up and notice her. His brows drew together, and irritation flashed across his eyes. Three years, and still the same old tactic? Sick? Please. He was convinced—it was all just another ploy to get his attention.