Chapter 4_A Small Heartbeat

Celeste left the house before sunrise.

Mrs. Carter was waiting at the back gate in a plain brown coat. "Dr. Lin is expecting you, Madam," she whispered. "Come quickly."

His clinic was small and quiet, hidden behind a flower shop. Dr. Lin asked no questions. He helped Celeste onto the bed, spread cold jelly on her stomach, and turned a small screen toward her.

"Listen," he said.

At first there was only a soft hiss. Then, under it, a tiny sound. Fast. Strong. Like a bird's wings.

Celeste stopped breathing.

"That is your baby's heartbeat," Dr. Lin said gently. "Perfect."

Tears ran down her face before she could stop them. For two days she had been afraid, planning, running. She had not once stopped to feel. Now it hit her all at once. *You're real. You're really here.*

Mrs. Carter squeezed her hand. Her own eyes were wet. "Madam," she whispered, "it sounds like a little drum."

Celeste laughed through her tears. "It does."

Dr. Lin printed a small black-and-white picture. A tiny bean. She held it like gold. He also gave her a white appointment card and a bottle of vitamins.

"Come back next week," he said. "And eat more. You are too thin."

She slipped the card into her pocket.

---

By noon, she was in a jewelry shop across the city.

She laid a pearl necklace on the counter. Adrian had given it to her on their wedding day. Or rather, his secretary had picked it, and he had never even looked at it.

"Eighty thousand," the jeweler said.

"Perfect."

Next came a small bank. Mrs. Carter's niece worked there and asked no questions. Celeste put every coin into a new account under a new name, one Adrian would never think to search.

*Willow Ashby.*

She said it quietly. It felt like putting on her own coat after a long time in a stranger's.

---

Meanwhile, Adrian sat in his car outside Harbor Group's glass tower, watching the clock.

Signing in ten minutes.

*Don't sign the Harbor Group deal. Their numbers are not real. They are hiding something.*

Her voice kept coming back, calm and certain. It made no sense. Celeste knew nothing about business. Yet he could not shake it.

He picked up his phone. "Mark. Check Harbor's accounts again. Everything. Now."

"Sir, we finished the audit last month."

"Do it again. You have ten minutes."

Eight minutes later, Mark's voice came back thin and pale. "Sir. There are three loans hidden in a shell company. Eighty million. They've covered it up for a year."

Adrian walked into the meeting room. Lowell, the Harbor CEO, stood up with a wide smile and an open pen.

Adrian set his own pen down.

"I'm withdrawing."

Lowell's smile died. "Mr. Vance, we have an agreement..."

"We don't."

By evening, Harbor Group had collapsed. Lowell was on a plane out of the country. Two firms that had signed that morning lost millions. Vance Holdings lost nothing.

Adrian sat alone in his study, his hands not quite steady.

*How did she know?*

He opened his desk drawer to find a pen, and stopped.

At the back was a small stack of folded notes, tied with a faded ribbon. He had never seen them before. Or he had, and never opened them.

The top one was in Celeste's careful handwriting.

*Don't trust Lowell from Harbor. He never looks at his finance director when he talks about money. Be careful.*

The date was eight months ago.

His throat went tight. He pulled out another.

*You skip lunch when you're stressed. Please eat something.*

Another. *Happy birthday. I made the cake you like. I'm sorry I'm not who you wanted.*

There were dozens. Three years of them, small and soft and unread.

Adrian sat very still.

*She saw everything,* he thought. *And I never once looked back.*

---

Celeste came home at dusk, with the vitamins hidden in her bag.

She had barely stepped into the hall when a sharp voice cut across the marble.

"Where have you been all day?"

Eleanor stood at the bottom of the stairs, her face stiff with anger. She had not forgotten the dinner. Isabella's maid had been fired, the emerald bracelet had been found in the wrong place, and Isabella had cried for an hour.

"Out," Celeste said.

"Sneaking around like a thief! You shamed me in front of Isabella, and you think you can walk in here as if nothing happened?"

Eleanor raised her hand.

Celeste did not step back. She did not even blink.

The slap never landed.

A hand closed around Eleanor's wrist from behind.

"Mother," Adrian said. "Enough."

Eleanor spun around. "You're defending her?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. His eyes found Celeste's. They looked tired, and something else too. "I only know that's enough."

Eleanor pulled her arm free and left in a storm of heels.

Adrian looked at Celeste a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something and could not find the words.

"Go and rest," he finally said.

---

Back in her little room, Celeste leaned against the closed door and let out a long, shaky breath.

On the table sat a steaming bowl of chicken soup.

"Mr. Vance told the kitchen to send it up himself," Mrs. Carter said, peeking in with a small smile. "He said you looked too thin."

Celeste stared at the bowl.

*Careful,* she warned herself. *One bowl of soup doesn't erase three years. Don't get soft.*

But she ate every drop. It was warm, and she was hungry, and the baby needed it.

She tucked the little scan picture under her pillow. Then she set the vitamin bottle on the dresser and went to wash her face.

She was gone for only two minutes.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the room was not empty.

Isabella Moreau stood by the dresser, a spare key dangling from her finger.

She was holding the vitamin bottle up to the light, reading the label slowly. Her red lips curved.

"A stomach ache, you said?" Isabella turned and smiled. "These are prenatal, Celeste."