4

Celeste

“Well,” he said, with the same smirk from my dream tugging at his lips, “this is… interesting.”

I felt a sudden wave of fear as my stomach plummeted. Without thinking, I let out a piercing scream. I quickly wrapped the blanket tightly around me, hoping it would shield me from his intense gaze. But nothing could protect me from the shame burning in my cheeks.

“What are you covering?” Jace asked, his voice cold and mocking.

I felt small, smaller than I had ever felt in my life. Naked in more ways than one. “What’s wrong with you?” My voice shook. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“This is my room,” he replied, his gaze stripping me down. “Should I knock before entering my own space?”

“The last time I checked, this room belongs to me.”

He stepped closer, the faint spice of his cologne curling into my senses. “I wonder what you’re hiding under that blanket.”

“Get out!” I yelled, tears threatening to spill. “Before I call—”

“Your mommy.” His smirk deepened. “Poor little girl. You’re so flat, I thought you were a boy for a second.”

My hands shook with anger and hurt. All my life, I’d been told I wasn’t pretty enough, wasn’t enough. And now this stranger was saying the same cruel things.

“Why are you here?” I asked, trying to sound brave when I felt like breaking.

“You’re needed downstairs,” he responded, but his eyes didn’t leave me. They roamed, slow and heated, like I was something he’d already claimed.

I gripped the blanket tighter. “Listen carefully, brother. If you come into my room without knocking again, you’ll regret it.”

His hand shot out, gripping my arms before I could retreat. He leaned in until I could feel his breath fan across my face. “I’m not your brother,” he said softly and calmly, and yet the words felt dangerous. “And you’re not my sister. That means I can do whatever I want.”

My whole body trembled. I felt like a small animal trapped by a wolf. “You have no manners.”

“Manners?” He snarled. “Your gold-digging mother should learn those first.”

The words hit me like a slap. My mother wasn’t perfect, but she was all I had. She had raised me alone. She made mistakes, but she loved me.

“Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“Everyone knows what she is,” he scoffed, his gaze pinning me. “A woman who’ll do anything for money. Even marry a man she doesn’t love.”

My eyes filled with angry tears. “Yes, she married for money,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “Because we were hungry. Because I needed medicine when I was sick. Because sometimes love isn’t enough to keep you alive.”

Before I could stop myself, I pushed him away and slapped him across the face.

“You slapped me,” he whispered, touching his cheek. He looked shocked, like no one had ever stood up to him before.

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you insult my mother.”

His lips curved into something dangerous. “You have courage, for someone so small.”

I tried to look brave, but inside I was falling apart. “We might be poor, but we have something you’ll never understand. We have each other.”

“Don’t pretend you have dignity, bitch," he growled, shoving me onto the bed. He loomed over me, tall and strong, and for one horrifying second, I thought he might kiss me. Even worse, a part of me wanted him to. “You’ll regret hitting me.”

When he finally left, I let out a shaky breath. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. How could I live in the same house as this man? How could I pretend he was my brother when every word, every look felt like fire?

I walked to the bathroom, trying to wash away the feeling of his hands on my arms and his breath on my face. The bathroom was bigger than our old apartment, with golden faucets, marble floors, and mirrors everywhere. It was beautiful, but it felt like a prison.

I tested the fixtures until I figured them out, humming a tune under my breath to keep my mind from spinning. The bathwater was warm, almost comforting, and I sank into it, letting the heat swallow me whole.

When I was done, I dried myself, dressed in the best clothes I could find, and twisted my hair into a neat bun.

“Good morning, miss,” the servants greeted as I stepped into the hall. Miss. Not Celeste. Not my name.

“Good morning,” I smiled, but it felt fake.

“I’m Mary,” said a girl around my age, her kind eyes warm and welcoming. “I’m your personal maid. I’ll be taking care of you.”

Mary had a real smile, the first genuine thing I’d seen in this house. “Nice to meet you, Mary.”

She guided me into the dining room, where my new family sat waiting. The table stretched out before us, laden with enough food to last a week.

“Good morning, Dad, Mom,” I greeted.

My new father smiled warmly. “You’re here, Celeste. Please take your seat.”

I slid into the chair beside Jace, who was already in his seat.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

I kept my eyes forward, forcing myself not to flinch.

“Did you sleep well?” my father asked.

“Yes, Dad.” At least he was trying to be kind.

“Dad,” Jace repeated, venom dripping from the word. “How sweet.”

I ignored him, but my cheeks burned, remembering how he had seen me naked and how helpless I had felt.

“Jace,” Father warned. “She’s your sister now.”

“She’s not my sister,” Jace said, slamming his hand on the table so hard the dishes jumped. “She’ll never be my fucking sister.”

Mom and I sat in silence. I looked at her, really looked at her, searching for even a flicker of regret, hoping she might wish she had listened when I begged her not to marry him.

But there was nothing.

I exhaled slowly. What had I expected from someone willing to do anything for wealth? This was my life now. And somehow, I had to survive it.

And survive him.