Chapter 2
I carried Ava into the sitting room because her legs would not hold her.
That was the part Celeste could not hide.
Not from me.
Not from the staff.
Not from herself.
Ava clung to my shirt like she was younger than seventeen.
Like she was five again, waking from nightmares after her mother died.
Her real mother.
Elena.
The woman Celeste had spent three years pretending to honor while slowly erasing every trace of her from the house.
Celeste followed us.
“Victor, this is not what it looks like.”
I laid Ava on the sofa.
“It looks like my daughter was forced to clean marble until her hands bled.”
“She was punished.”
“For what?”
Celeste’s mouth tightened.
“She stole.”
Ava gasped.
“I didn’t.”
Celeste pointed at her.
“See? This is what I mean. Lying without shame.”
I turned toward the staff.
“Maria.”
The older housekeeper stepped forward, trembling.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did Ava steal?”
Maria’s eyes filled.
She looked at Celeste.
Then at me.
“No, sir.”
Celeste snapped, “Careful.”
That one word told me the house had been living under fear.
I stepped between them.
“Answer me.”
Maria’s voice shook.
“Mrs. Vale said Miss Ava took a bracelet. But I saw the bracelet in Mrs. Vale’s drawer yesterday.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
“That woman is confused.”
Another maid, Lila, began crying.
“She locked Miss Ava’s room,” she whispered. “She took her phone. She said you ordered it.”
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
Ava covered her face.
“I tried to call you.”
My throat closed.
“I never got calls.”
“Celeste said you blocked me.”
“No.”
The word came out broken.
“No, baby. Never.”
Celeste lifted her glass again, though her hand shook.
“You were away. I managed the household as your wife.”
“You imprisoned my daughter.”
“I corrected her.”
I took one step toward Celeste.
She stepped back.
Good.
Let her feel a fraction of what Ava had felt.
I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer, Marcus Reed.
He answered instantly.
“Victor?”
“I need you at the house.”
“What happened?”
I looked at Ava’s hands.
“My wife abused my daughter.”
Celeste lunged for the phone.
I caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop her.
Her eyes widened.
“Let go.”
I did.
Then I said, “Touch my phone, my daughter, or any member of this staff again, and the next person you speak to will be the police.”
Her mask cracked.
“You would choose a spoiled girl over your wife?”
I looked back at Ava.
She was shaking under my jacket.
“No,” I said. “I am choosing my daughter over the woman who forgot she was never queen of this house.”
Celeste’s lips parted.
For the first time, she had no quick answer.
Then Ava whispered, “Dad.”
I turned.
She was staring toward the staircase.
“What is it?”
May you like
“My room,” she said. “There’s something in my room.”
Celeste went white.
