Chapter 97: Plastic Surgery

Chapter 97: Plastic Surgery


Damiens POV
The silence in the foyer stretched like a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment. Damien stared at Nathaniel, then at Celia, his face cycling through confusion, disbelief, and finally, cold fury.

"Her husband?" Damien's voice was deadly quiet. "What the hell do you mean, her husband?"

Nathaniel's smile widened. "Exactly what I said. Celia and I were married  years ago in Las Vegas. Still are, legally speaking."

"That's impossible." Damien turned to his wife. "Celia, tell him he's lying."

But Celia had found her composure. The shock was gone, replaced by the mask she wore so well. She straightened her shoulders and looked Nathaniel directly in the eye.

"I have absolutely no idea who this man is."

The lie rolled off her tongue like silk. Smooth. Confident. Convincing.

"Darling," she continued, turning to Damien with perfect confusion painted on her face, "I think this man might be having some sort of mental episode. Should we call the police?"

Alfred shifted uncomfortably near the kitchen doorway. Maria had reappeared, clutching a dustrag like a lifeline. They were all witnesses to this surreal theater.

Nathaniel laughed—a rich, amused sound. "Oh, Celia. Still the actress, I see. Tell me, do you still have that scar on your left shoulder? The one from when you tried to climb that fire escape ?" 

Celia's eye twitched, but her voice remained steady. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Or how about the birthmark shaped like a butterfly on your"

"Enough." Damien's voice cut through the air like a whip. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but you need to leave. Now."

"A game?" Nathaniel removed a leather wallet from his jacket. "Let me show you something that might change your mind."

He pulled out a worn photograph and held it up. In it, a younger Celia stood beside him in a simple white dress, her hand in his, both of them smiling at the camera. She looked happy. Radiant, even.

"Wedding day. Vegas. The Graceland Chapel." Nathaniel's voice was casual, conversational. "We had Elvis officiate. You insisted on it, remember, sweetheart?"

Celia's face went pale, but she doubled down. "That's not me. That woman looks nothing like me."

"Plastic surgery can work wonders," Nathaniel agreed pleasantly. "Though you kept the eyes. Always loved those green eyes."

"You're delusional," Celia said firmly. "Damien, call security. This man is clearly unstable."

But Damien was studying the photograph, his jaw tight. The resemblance was unmistakable, despite the subtle changes to Celia's appearance over the years.

"Even if this photograph is real," Damien said slowly, "it doesn't prove anything. People can be made to look alike."

"True." Nathaniel tucked the photo away. "But I have more than photographs. Much more."

He reached into his other pocket and withdrew a small digital recorder. "I wonder what your husband would think if he heard some of our old conversations, Celia. The planning sessions. The jobs we pulled together. The way you used to laugh when we'd count the money afterward."

Celia's composure cracked for just a moment. "I don't know what recordings you think you have, but"

"Should I play one? I have the conversation from the night before the Morrison job. You know, when you were practicing your 'innocent student' act for that art dealer in Philadelphia?"

"Stop." The word escaped Celia's lips before she could stop it.

"Ah." Nathaniel's smile was triumphant. "There she is. My beautiful, brilliant Celia."

Damien looked between them, understanding beginning to dawn on his face. "You do know him."

"Damien, I can explain"

"Can you?" His voice was ice-cold. "Because right now, I'm wondering if I know you at all."

Alfred cleared his throat softly. "Perhaps... perhaps we should move this to the study? Away from the staff?"

"No," Nathaniel said firmly. "I like an audience. Makes it harder for people to lie."

He turned his attention back to Damien. "Your wife—sorry, your fake wife—was the most talented con artist I ever worked with. We made millions together. She was particularly good at targeting lonely, wealthy men who thought they were saving a damsel in distress."

The implication hit Damien like a physical blow. "Are you saying"

"That you were a mark? I Suppose, yes." Nathaniel's voice was matter-of-fact. "Though I suspect somewhere along the way, she actually developed real feelings for you. Occupational hazard in our line of work."

"That's not true," Celia said desperately. "Damien, you have to believe me. I love you. I've always loved you."

"Love?" Nathaniel laughed. "You don't know the meaning of the word. Just like you didn't when you drugged me and stole everything I had."

"You're lying," Celia said, but her voice lacked conviction now.

"Am I? Should I tell him about the money you took? The accounts you cleaned out? The false identities you used?"

Damien's face had gone completely white. "Money?"

"Oh yes. Your wife is quite the entrepreneur. Though I suppose 'thief' is the more accurate term."

"Enough!" Damien's voice echoed through the foyer. "I don't care what history you two have. I want you out of my house. Now."

"Your house?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "

Damien's jaw worked silently. The truth was written all over his face.

"She was pregnant, wasn't she?" Nathaniel continued. "Had to marry quickly. Except..." He tilted his head. "Where's the child now?"

"Stop," Celia whispered.

"Miscarriage, right? How convenient. How... timely."

The color drained from Damien's face completely. In the background, Maria made a small sound of distress.

"Get out," Damien said, his voice deadly quiet. "Get out of my house right now, or I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

"Of course." Nathaniel straightened his jacket. "I've said what I came to say. For now."

He moved toward the door, then paused. "Oh, but I should mention why I'm really here. It's not about the money, you see. I made that back years ago."

"Then what do you want?" Damien demanded.

Nathaniel's smile was razor-sharp. "I want my wife back. You see, I never stopped loving her. Even after she betrayed me. Even after she ran." His eyes found Celia's. "I've spent  years tracking you down, darling. Years building my fortune, gaining power, becoming the kind of man who can't be run from anymore."

"I'll never go back to you," Celia said, her voice shaking.

"Oh, but you will." Nathaniel's voice was silk over steel. "Because I own things now.

"That's enough!" Damien roared. "Security!"

But Nathaniel was already walking away. "I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder. "We have so much to catch up on."

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving behind a silence that felt like the aftermath of an explosion.

Damien turned to his wife—the woman he thought was his wife—with eyes like winter.

"Start talking," he said quietly. "And this time, tell me the truth."

But Celia just stood there, her perfect mask finally shattered, staring at the door where her past had just walked back into her life.

In the distance, Alfred quietly began making phone calls. The Kane family would need lawyers. Many, many lawyers.