Chapter 2 Seraphina's Pov

Celeste arrived just before dawn.

Even grief seemed to pause, as if it needed to make room for her. She always had that effect, like the world was her stage and everyone else existed only to applaud her. 

She walked in wearing a black tailored coat with perfect lines that did nothing to hide her curves. Dark glasses that made her look like she was on a runway. She didn't need to introduce herself at the reception desk because everyone already knew who she was.

Celeste Frostbane had come home.

It was clear that Ten years in Europe had not softened her. It had sharpened her to the point that even her grief looked expensive.

She removed the glasses, her eyes red but bright. Tears clung to her lashes without falling. 

Elegant grief, that drew sympathy instead of discomfort. She knew how to make her pain beautiful, make it even pleasurable to watch.

"My father…" 

She said, her voice low and breaking in exactly the right moments.

Margaret rushed forward with a sob. Ethan followed, his face dissolving into relief the moment Celeste stepped into his arms. 

They closed around her like she had never left, like nothing had ever gone wrong.

And just like that, I was walled out again.

I stood just a few feet away, but completely invisible. 

Familiar position, forgotten place.

Celeste swayed slightly, and a hand flew out to steady her.

The hand belonged to Kieran.

His grip was firm and protective. His other hand resting on her back as if it belonged there. He leaned close, murmuring something I could not hear.

Celeste's fingers curled into his coat. Her head dipped toward his chest.

Something sharp twisted in my stomach. Jealousy? 

No. Just an old wound reopening itself.

He had never held me like that, not once. Not when the world turned against me… not when I gave birth to his child.

"She must be exhausted," Kieran said softly. "She flew all night."

Margaret nodded, clutching Celeste's arm. "Of course she did. For her father. That's the kind of daughter she is, always living for others before herself.”

Celeste's gaze lifted then and met mine across the space.

There it was. The look I had memorized a decade ago. Hurt layered over judgment. Pain sharpened into blame. Ten years gone, and she still looked at me like I was the shadow that ruined her light.

She said nothing.

Neither did I.

The doctor approached, speaking quietly. Celeste stiffened when she heard the words confirmed. Edward Frostbane was gone. No last conversation. No closure.

Celeste covered her mouth. A single tear slipped free.

Kieran's arm tightened around her shoulders.

I turned away.

No one noticed when I left. They never did.

---

The drive back to the mansion felt longer than it should have. The city blurred past the window as the sky lightened slowly. Kieran's mansion rose ahead of me, all stone and iron gates and quiet power. It had never felt like home. It had always felt like an arrangement. A compensation. A cage lined with luxury.

Inside, the main wing was silent. I slipped off my coat and walked down the hall.

Daniel's door was open.

He sat on the bed, knees pulled to his chest, eyes wide. He looked up the moment he sensed me.

"You were gone," he said.

I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. "I'm here now."

He studied my face too closely for a three-year-old. His brow creased. That sharp intuition of his always unnerved me. He saw things before he should. He had inherited that from his father. Not from me. Sometimes I wondered what else he had inherited that I couldn't see yet.

"Something bad happened," he said.

"Yes."

He swallowed. "Grandpa?"

I nodded.

He looked down at his hands. Then back at me. "Are you okay, Mummy?"

The question hit me harder than it should have. I pulled him into my arms. He hugged me back tightly.

"I'm okay," I whispered against his hair. "I'm okay now."

I wasn't sure if I said it for him or myself.

"Are we leaving?" he asked.

The question landed heavy. I didn't know what to say.

"I don't know yet," I admitted. But deep down, I knew we might have to.

Later, after he slept again, I sat alone in the sitting room. Sunlight crept through the tall windows. The clock ticked loudly. Every second stretched.

The double doors opened quietly after an hour.

Kieran stepped in. His coat was gone. His tie loosened. He looked tired. Older. Grief sat on him differently, as if it was him who had lost a father.

He closed the door behind him. Silence settled between us.

"Seraphina," he said at last. He sat on a chair opposite mine. "We need to talk."

My stomach tightened. The beginning of an ending always sounded polite.

We need to talk.

I had known this moment would come for ten years.

I had been waiting. And yet, somehow, I still wasn't ready.

He looked at me for a long second. Then he said the words I had been gearing up for since I came back from the hospital.

"Seraphina, I want a divorce."

There it was. The final sentence to a story that had been dying in silence for years.