Chapter 127 Celeste Faking It
Jolie pov
"Why would that matter?" But her voice has lost some of its intensity. "If I can't feel, whether I remember feeling is irrelevant."
"Is it?" I extend my hand across the table, palm up. An offer, not a demand. "Let me show you something."
She looks at my hand like it's a foreign object.”What would you show me?"
"What empathy feels like." I meet her eyes. "Just for a moment. No damage, no force. Just a glimpse of what connection is supposed to be."
"Why?" Suspicion colors her voice—the first real emotion I've heard from her.
"Because you're not a weapon." I say it firmly. "You're a person who had personhood stolen from you. And I think somewhere deep down, you know something is wrong. You know the emptiness isn't normal."
Her hand trembles slightly. The first uncontrolled movement I've seen.
"Your father said you would try this." Her voice is still flat, but I hear the faintest uncertainty. "That you would attempt to manipulate me with your empathic abilities, definitely I should refuse all physical contact."
"I'm sure he did." I don't lower my hand. "Because he knows what will happen if you remember what feeling is like. You'll realize what was taken from you and you'll never be his perfect emotionless bride again."
Around the table, conversation has died. Everyone is watching us now—my father's face tight with calculation, Gio's expression fearful, other guests fascinated by this drama unfolding.
"This is inappropriate." My father stands. "Celeste, perhaps we should"
"No." Her voice cuts through his. Sharp and decisive. The first moment of genuine assertion I've heard from her. She reaches across the table and takes my hand. The moment our skin touches, my empathy gift surges forward. Not forced, not weaponized, but gentle.
I show her what connection feels like through our mate bond—Ryder's steady love, his protective devotion, the way our souls intertwine. I show her pack bonds—Luna's fierce loyalty, Knox's quiet strength, Phoenix's earnest care. I showed her what I felt when Gio hugged me yesterday—complicated, messy, but real. Forgiveness struggling with hurt, hope wrestling with caution, all of it achingly human.
Celeste's eyes go wide her hand spasms in mine, but she doesn't pull away.
"What" Her voice cracks. "What is that?"
"That's what they took from you." I squeeze her hand gently. "Connection. The ability to feel with others, to understand their joy and pain, to be part of something larger than yourself."
"It's too much." Tears form in her eyes—the first emotion breaking through years of conditioning. "I can't—I don't know how to"
"You don't have to know." I keep the connection gentle. "Just feel it. Remember what it was like before they broke you."
A sob tears from her throat then another. The perfect, emotionless bride crumbles, grief pouring out of her in waves that crash through my empathy like a tsunami. She's feeling everything she's been cut off from for years all at once—joy and sorrow, love and loss, connection and abandonment.
And underneath it all, rage. Pure, burning fury at what was done to her. "They made me empty." She gasps between sobs. "They took everything and told me it was strength. Told me feeling was a weakness. But this" She grips my hand harder. "This is what I was supposed to be and they stole it."
"Yes." I don't let go even as her pain floods through me. "They did. But you're feeling it now, you are remembering."
Then she starts laughing. It's not the broken, hysterical laughter of someone losing control. It's cold, calculated, and completely in control. She pulls her hand from mine, wiping her tears away with precise movements. The mascara running down her face somehow makes her smile more terrifying.
"Oh, you really believed that?" She looks around the table at everyone's shocked faces. "You actually fell for my acting? You fools."
Ice floods my veins. "What?" The word comes out strangled.
"The tears, the emotional breakdown, the desperate victim routine." She stands gracefully, not a tremor in her movements now. "Textbook manipulation. I learned it how to feign emotional vulnerability to lower an opponent's guard."
My father's smile is slow and satisfied. "Well done, my dear."
"Thank you, darling." She touches his shoulder with casual affection that's somehow more chilling than her emptiness. "Though I must admit, the Moonfire Luna made it almost too easy. So desperate to save everyone, to prove her empathy is a gift instead of a weakness. She practically begged me to play the victim."
Ryder is on his feet, pulling me back. "You lying"
"I prefer strategist." Celeste's smile is sharp. "Your mate has a savior complex. Exploit that, and she'll hand you exactly what you need. In this case, a perfect demonstration of how empathic abilities can be turned against their user."
"You felt it." I'm shaking, but I force the words out. "I felt you feeling the connection. That wasn't fake."
"Oh, I felt something." She examines her nails casually. "Your empathy is quite powerful. But feeling and being affected are different things. I felt the emotions you pushed at me, processed them as data, and responded with the appropriate performance.”
"Our second wedding ceremony proceeds as planned." My father announces to the room. "This afternoon, as scheduled."
Celeste moves around the table toward me, and Ryder tenses. But she stops just outside his reach, leaning in close enough that only I can hear her whisper.
"You should prepare yourself to be a good stepdaughter, Jolie." Her breath is cold against my ear. "What irony—we're practically the same age. But then, your father always did prefer them young."
She straightens, her smile public again. "I do hope you'll stay for the ceremony. It would mean so much to have family present."
I can't speak neither can I move. The breakfast around us resumes like nothing happened—guests congratulating my father, Celeste accepting well-wishes, everyone playing their parts.
Only Gio looks stricken, meeting my eyes with genuine horror.
"We need to leave." Luna's voice is quiet but urgent. "Now."
Ryder guides me toward the door, his body blocking Celeste's view of me. Knox and Cass fall in behind us, Phoenix already moving ahead to secure our exit.
"Well played, Moonfire Luna." Celeste calls after me. "You tried to save me with empathy and ended up showing us exactly how immune I am to it. The Council will be very pleased with the demonstration."
The door closes behind us, cutting off her laughter. I make it three steps down the hallway before my legs give out. Ryder catches me, lowering us both to the floor.
"She played me." My voice sounds distant. "She felt everything I showed her and turned it into a weapon. Made me think I was saving her when really I was just proving their program works."
"No." Ryder holds me tight. "She's lying, she has to be lying."
"Is she?" I look up at him. "What if the Council really did create something that can resist empathy? What if I just gave them proof that their program is successful?"
"Then we deal with it." Luna crouches beside us. "But right now, we need to get you out of this building before they try something else."
"The second main wedding ceremony." I force myself to stand. "It's still happening, she is solidifying the marriage."
"And there's nothing we can do about it." Knox's voice is grim. "If we interfere, we're attacking a legitimate pack ceremony. That's grounds for war."
"So we just let it happen?" Phoenix looks between us. "Let him solidify his marriage to that—that thing?"
"She's not a thing." I straighten my spine, forcing strength I don't feel into my voice. "She's exactly what the Council wanted to create. A weapon that looks like a person. And she just used my own empathy to humiliate me in front of every major alpha in the region."
"She used you." Ryder corrects. "That's on her, not you."
"Is it?" I start walking toward our room. "Or is it on me for thinking I could save someone who doesn't want to be saved?"
No one has an answer for that. Back in our suite, I sink onto the bed, replaying every moment. The way her hand trembled, the tears in her eyes, the raw emotion in her voice.
It all felt so real. But maybe that's the point. Maybe the Council's program created something so perfect at mimicking humanity that even divine empathy can't tell the difference between real feeling and calculated performance.
"We're leaving." Ryder is packing our bags. "Right now.