Night’s hush filled the study, where Roman and Celeste hunched over a lamplit desk. The estate’s gardens outside lay dark, their slumbering flowers oblivious to a storm brewing inside. She hesitated, her breath caught as he extended a thin stack of documents toward her. She accepted them gingerly, reading the terse wording that laid out a truth she wished she could ignore. Their faces drained of colour, pulse racing in her ears.
“These transfers were to pay off your mortgage,” Roman whispered, pointing to the last page. “But Soren stopped them right as the marriage contract was signed.” Celeste’s throat tightened. Images of her parents’ unpretentious home played in her mind—the porch where she studied in dimming twilight, the tiny garden her mother nurtured. The prick of rage at the realization that Soren had successively drained those funds meant to save that house.
A tense silence fell. Roman studied her face, the grief brewing beneath her stoic expression. She swallowed, remembering how many times Soren had made her feel powerless against his manipulations. Now clutching these pages, she understood the precision of his cruelty: His structuring of her debt was a means to tighten his control. She paused and exhaled shakily, her bitterness rising.
Her gaze flicked to Roman. “He’s been playing me from the start, trying to keep me desperate,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. An outbreak of fury made her leap to her feet, nearly toppling the chair. “Throughout, he’s made sure that I feel trapped, that I have no choice but to do what he wants. All while I thought fate just had me a bad hand.”
Roman offered a silent nod. He was only too familiar with the wily blade of Soren’s tactics.” He reached forward to clasp her wrist reassuringly. “We’re going to out him,” he whispered. “He can’t hide this forever. And soon, the whole board will see the truth.”
Suddenly, the overhead light flashed her way, and she turned her eyes to the desk’s grassy far corner. There, half-hidden under an envelope, was another document—a draft of Soren’s foreclosure papers, bold text announcing the planned auction date. When she noticed the date, tomorrow, a chill rippled across her skin.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she recoiled, holding the foreclosure draft against her chest. If Soren sealed this move, there would be no more home of her childhood, just another casualty in his cold war for control. Mysteries in her heart, no other man would ever take his place, but the swelling had to end, fire in her eyes to get her life off his hands before it was too late.
Still clutching the foreclosure draft, Celeste stormed down a side hallway that was lit by flickering sconces. Rage, fear and betrayal surged in her veins. She discovered Caspian in the library, bent over a table covered with corporate ledgers. He glanced up, surprise flickering across his face at her hurried arrival.
Without greeting, she banged the document on the table. “Explain,” she said, her voice quivering. “I need to know how this is possible; you and your father said you’d make everything right, yet this says my house is going under the gavel tomorrow.” Her anger grew, and the colour rose violently in her cheeks.
Caspian straightened, brow knitting at the lettering emblazoned in bold. "I didn’t know,” he said, reading through the lines. A look of alarm furrowed his brow. “I didn’t authorize anything like this. Soren never mentioned—”
“Don’t lie,” she hissed, the words saturated in bitterness. “I gave you a chance after chance after chance, and here we are.” Her voice trembled, exposing the rawness below that anger. “Roman discovered evidence of mortgage fund tampering after our marriage contract was drawn. Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t know?”
Caspian’s jaw tightened. “I’m battling him from day one,” he said, his tone sharpening with weariness and hurt. “You think I’d allow him to sabotage your home if I could stop it?” He held her gaze, pride mixed with desperation. “I may have done wrong, but I will never be with him against you.
Caught between her broken trust and hope still standing, Celeste sank her teeth onto her lip, pausing the wellspring of tears threatening to flood her vision. “He lured me into thinking I was safe. Perhaps you lied to yourself as well,” she said, her voice trembling. “All so I could be in debt, easy to control.”
His hands curled into fists. “He’s sneakier than you think he is,” Caspian growled, his anger at his father emerging. “But I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with this.”
She paused, reading the flicker of sincerity in his eyes. Silence descended, heavy with unacknowledged grief. The old intimacy between them seemed like so long ago, dispelled by betrayal and half-truths.
Then, at last, Caspian let out a breath, shoulders sagging with surrender. “I’m going to stop him,” he said quietly, although uncertainty roared at the periphery of his words. “But do you trust me to give it a go?”
Her throat tightened and threatened tears fell. His concern was genuine; she could see that in his face, too, but the sight was hard to tolerate, as was the prospect of being disappointed again in the same way. Outside, the wind rattled the window, a warning of the storm brewing inside them both.
The estate’s drawing room was empty on this late evening in quiet time, with ornate couches shrouded in velvet and a grand portrait of some Hayes ancestor overseeing it all. Talia stepped inside, her every movement echoing across polished marble. She had requested Celeste join her here, in seclusion from clattering eyes and potential Soren ears.
The room pulsed with frightened energy. When Celeste walked in, Talia could see tension etched across her features. “What is it?” Celeste asked, voice hushed. Talia, gulping, wracked her brain for old loyalties to Soren that made any sense in light of the truth that had broken her illusions.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Talia said, glancing at the heavy curtains. “I’ve learned how he’s been manipulating us... you, Caspian, even me. In those emails, concrete proof he’s warped my every decision and turned Caspian against me to keep a grip. She hesitated, remembering how effortlessly Soren had enacted the endless manipulations. “I thought he did it for the sake of family. But it’s all about him.”
Celeste’s jaw clenched. She remembered the hostility with which Talia had approached her in the past, the insults and suspicions that had coloured her every move. Now Talia stood here, confession spilling out in hushed urgency. “Why tell me now?” Kevin took over the call with a note of caution running through his words.
Talia took a jagged breath. “Because I see what is the truth,” she said. “His power feeds on secrets and fear. He’s running the board, sowing corporate disorder, keeping your mortgage documents—and somehow still has Caspian in his pocket.” There was a glimmer of guilt in her eyes. “I engaged in it, naive of his profound manipulation of me. I can’t live with that anymore.”
A grim silence descended then, the distant tick of a grandfather clock punctuating the pause. Celeste examined Talia’s face, its tearful shine. She remembered how Talia had been—confident, fiercely protective of her cousin, with Soren’s manipulations always clouding the girl Soren had once been.
Softly, Celeste put a hand on Talia’s arm. “I need your help,” she said quietly. “If you have anything that could turn the tide, I need it. We’re running out of time.”
Talia nodded her shoulders as if all the tension had left her body. “I found logs and hidden files. They catalogue hush-money schemes, perhaps more. If he uses it wisely, it can corner him.” She raised her eyes, steel shining through her regret. “This could be our last opportunity to save Caspian—and your home.”
Silence fell between them, and the delicate thread of trust spun in that moment. Celeste shut her eyes and steeled herself to use Talia’s information in the battle against Soren’s grasp, knowing the morning slipped closer with each tick of that vintage clock.