Celeste’s POVMy legs moved before my mind could catch up. I rushed to the black car and yanked the rear door open.Auntie Eleanor lay motionless on the gurney, her face pale, lips slightly parted. Tubes still hung from her arms—whoever this man was, he hadn’t even bothered to remove the evidence of the hospital setup. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll that might shatter at the slightest touch. But she was breathing.My chest tightened. Relief and rage tangled inside me like a storm."I’ll get you out of here," I whispered, carefully sliding her out of the vehicle with trembling hands.She was unconscious, still deep in that coma she’d never woken from. But at least she was alive.I cradled her as best I could, dragging open the back door of Damien’s car. Gently, I laid her down across the back seat, adjusting her head with practiced care. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking."Just hold on," I whispered. "Please, just hold on."When I turned back, Damien was crouched low over the m
Celeste’s POVThe streets blurred past as we sped through the Westfield District, eyes flicking from the road to the navigation app and back. I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my phone clenched tight in my hand. We had just gotten the update from Kessler—the black Santana was last seen turning onto Amber Ridge Avenue. We were minutes behind.Then we saw it."There!" Damien shouted, slamming the steering wheel to the left. The black Santana was at the far end of the intersection, its taillights flickering briefly as it turned.He floored the accelerator."That’s them," I gasped.Damien slammed on the accelerator. The car roared beneath us, tires squealing as we flew forward. He honked twice, weaving to the side and overtaking the lane. Then, in a bold move, he jerked the wheel, cutting off the Santana’s path and forcing them to stop near a shadowy warehouse.Damien rolled down his window, the engine rumbling low beneath us. "Step out! Hand her over. Now."The driver didn’t move.For a
Celeste’s POV"It’s me," the voice whispered quickly. "It’s Damien."My whole body went slack with recognition, breath catching somewhere between panic and relief. My knees buckled slightly as the adrenaline surged through me, then crashed like a wave. I shoved his hand off my mouth, gasping for breath."Are you insane?!" I hissed, whirling around to glare at him. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"“I just have to talk to you alone, Celeste,” he explained in a rush. “Now is not the time, Damien. Auntie Eleanor —” I started anxiously.“Yes, I know what happened to her,” he cut me off. I stopped. "What?"How could he know already? The way he said it so calmly—it was too prepared. A cold suspicion slithered up my spine. I hated the thought that he might still have people keeping tabs on me.But then, Damien pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "As a precaution, I had discreet surveillance installed in her room. Just in case. After what happened at the prison, I couldn’t take a
Damien’s POVI could tell she was furious. Her arms crossed, her eyes locked on me with that sharp, stinging disgust I hadn’t seen since the divorce. I hadn’t even thought twice when I heard she’d been discharged earlier than it was supposed to be. I just dropped everything and ran. Especially when I heard about the prison riot where Genevieve was held, followed immediately by Celeste's emergency discharge from the hospital. I couldn't help but connect these two events—did someone make a move against Celeste?But now, standing there in front of her, all I could feel was how wide the distance between us had become.“I only wanted to make sure you were safe,” I said, trying to control the frustration in my voice. “I heard there was a riot at the prison.”Celeste’s eyes flashed. Theo stepped closer beside her, a subtle move but loud enough in meaning. Possessive. Protective. Just like the distance between Celeste and me in the past.“She left with me and we’d informed her doctor,” The
Celeste’s POVThe night outside was dark, but the shadows inside me were darker.I sat in silence as the car sped forward, the rhythm of the tires on the pavement a dull, steady thrum in the background. Theo glanced sideways, one hand steady on the wheel, his voice breaking through the quiet."You don’t have to look so defeated, you know."I blinked. "I’m not." But I was. And we both knew it.He gave a soft huff of breath. "You know... biological parents aren’t some kind of magic fix. Lots of people grow up with theirs and still end up with miserable families. You, on the other hand, have a career you built with your own hands, people who rely on you, and people who would fight for you."I looked out the window. City lights passed by like distant stars. "I know. I just thought it would feel different.""You were excited," he said gently. "And they disappointed you. That’s not on you."I nodded slowly. "At first, when they said I was their daughter... I felt something. Like maybe I’d
Third Person POVAfter the car disappeared into the darkness, silence wrapped around the remaining Lancasters like a suffocating shroud. Viv stood in place, her shoulders trembling. Her hands covered her face, muffling the sobs that refused to stop. Nathaniel remained by her side, rubbing her back in wordless comfort, though his own face was pale and drawn.Michael stepped forward, his voice low but tight with restrained frustration. "Why did you say that to her?" he asked, staring at his mother. "And why couldn't you have shown more affection and joy toward finding out that she's your real daughter, the one we've waited all our lives to find again?"Viv slowly lowered her hands, revealing eyes red with stubborn grief. "I didn’t mean to hurt her," she whispered, "I just thought—maybe it was better this way. That we could just stop the pain and chaos. Everything can be done!"Michael stared at her, eyes hard. "’You didn’t mean to hurt her?’ You made a choice. You chose her over the tr