Chapter 14 Escapism
Celeste-
This couldn't be real. For all I knew, my mother had died a long time ago.
And yet there it was. My hands trembled as I stared at the screen. A split image. On one side, a photo of me, captured mid-motion, fist slamming into someone's camera-someone had finally twisted the story. On the other, a woman in asylum clothes, held back by guards, her eyes wide and wild.
The caption burned across the screen like acid:
"With behavior like hers, she's not far from her mother. Shouldn't someone keep her out of society before it's too late?"
My stomach turned. My pulse raced. Notifications, tags, memes-the world had already started judging me, defining me before I even had a chance to explain. And now... it felt like I was standing on the edge, staring down a cliff I hadn't even realized was there.
It had been a week since I married Lucien, and I didn't know if things had gone from bad to worse. The new owners of the building had let me keep the floor, but low sales and reporters were still a problem. And now this, a mother I believed had died a long time ago.
Then there was him, Lucien.
The whole of Manhattan had seen him fall from glory, lose his job, yet somehow keep his head held high. He had only slept here twice, and since then, I had barely seen him. Job hunting? I didn't know. Didn't care.
A small sigh escaped my lips as my fingers raked through my hair. For once, I just wanted to be free.
Free from society's expectations, from the future, from all the rules of this luxurious cage
I pulled out the dress Denise had picked-short, black, skimpy, perfect. Like she knew exactly what I needed tonight. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick. Tonight, I would show them all I didn't care. Not a single bit.
A ride waited outside, taking me somewhere far, somewhere no one would know who I was. Somewhere I could escape from high society. A nightclub.
The club was dim, the ceiling glowed with neon lights pulsing in rhythm with the music. The beat throbbed through the floorboards as people gyrated, grinding against one another without a care.
I found my way to the bar, and the bartender was too nice, smiling a little too much, leaning a little too close, and letting his fingers linger a little too long. I noticed, laughed, and thought, might as well take advantage.
So I ordered shots like water, letting it burn down my throat. The warmth spread fast-just what I needed. I let out a laugh, one Grandmother would never approve, but I didn't care because I was caught in the blur of the lights and music.
Tonight, I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel.
Glasses clinked. I leaned back, tipping my head to the ceiling, hands trembling from the thrill of freedom, danger, and indulgence.
Nothing mattered. Not status, not rules, not even Lucien.
And yet I called him. Why? I don't know.
And he answered.
I slammed my phone onto the bar when I realized it, then snatched it back up. "Why do you keep ignoring me? Are you trying to drive me insane?" I said, screaming my lungs out.
A pause. My racing heart. Then his voice, cold as ice. "Where are you, Celeste?"
"No, no, no, Lucien," I said, laughing. "This isn't some Fifty Shades of Grey shit. I don't need saving, okay? Not today. You're not my hero."
"And yet you called me."
"Because you asked me to," I shot back, smirking like I knew he could see me. "You left a sticky note with your number. Told me to call."
"If there was something up-"
"There's something up?" I interrupted with a snort, "It's your ego." I laughed again.
A growl rumbled through the phone. "Shut up. And tell me where the fuck you are, Celeste!"
My pulse raced, my hands shook a little, but I didn't care who saw me, what they thought, or what would happen next. All that mattered was this, this sharp, reckless pull between us that neither of us was ready to name.
Tonight, I was going to change that.
I hung up on him. At the same time, I realized I needed some air. The contents of my stomach came up to my throat, my chest suddenly too tight, and the air felt warm and clammy.
Where was the damn exit? I thought to myself, pushing myself through sweaty bodies and the stench of alcohol. One or two hands tugging at my arm, voices blending into an incomprehensible hum.
"I have to get out of here," I murmured, forcing myself forward until I somehow stumbled out through the exit. Finally.
The cool night air hit me, and for a moment, the city felt like an unfamiliar stage, and I was at the center, exposed, reckless, and confused.
"Where am I?" I wondered. I didn't recognize this place. Or maybe I was too drunk?
I staggered, a little back and forth, then a stab of headache.
And then I heard it, the name that had stuck to me like a damn stain, "Ashford Heiress."
The murmurs started almost immediately. Whispers. Then phones were raised, flashes blinking, recording me like I was some wild animal on display.
"Shoo! Shoo! Get away from me!" I waved my arms, laughing too loudly, hiccupping, and spinning in place. "No, no! Don't go pull out your phones and make a viral video!"
People laughed. Someone shouted. I stumbled a little, catching myself on the lamppost. Vulnerable. Ridiculous. Alive!
Then the world spun, my knees went weak like jelly, threatening to give way.
So this was it. I thought. I had finally given them what they wanted. A spectacle. I was about to let go when a shadow fell over me. Lucien.
My heart skipped, my pulse jumping like a drumbeat in my chest. He didn't speak because he didn't need to. His presence made the crowd part, their phones faltering for a second as he stepped closer.
I tried to stand straighter, defiant, but a laugh broke out of me. "See! They think I'm crazy, just like my mom! Don't they?"
"Celeste," he said in his usual coldness. "Move. Now."
I stumbled after him as he pulled me through the crowd. Phones waved, people shouted as we darted down an alley, pressed into the shadows, away from the flashing lights and alone in the darkness.
I leaned against the brick wall, chest heaving, hands shaking. This was exciting. "How did you find me?" I chuckled.
"Live stream," he murmured, looking over his shoulders.
"Are they coming?!" The words escaped my lips in a whisper.
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible."
I laughed, hiccupping again, shoving at him lightly. "And yet you came! You came! You do shit like this because you care! Or because you can't stand me like this!"
"Both," he muttered with an exasperated sigh.
Without warning, he leaned forward, closing the space between us. My heart drummed in my chest as I stared at his face. His lips hovered above mine, his warm breath brushing against me. My mouth parted instinctively-then he paused, tilting his head.
"Celeste." He whispered, his expression unreadable, "Is this what you wanted?"
A silence stretched between us, heavy, chaotic, charged.
Why was he doing this to me?