Chapter 88: Dangerous Knowledge

Chapter 88: Dangerous Knowledge
Celeste’s POV
The corridor outside the nursery is silent, but the air feels heavy—like something terrible has just happened, or is about to. The faint scent of lavender from the nursery drifts around me, sweet and cloying. It mixes with the tension in the air until it feels poisonous.
The maid stands before me, wringing her hands so hard I can almost hear the bones creak. Her uniform is slightly wrinkled, hair disheveled, face pale. She can’t even meet my eyes.
“I–I didn’t think anyone would hear us, Miss Celeste,” she stammers, voice barely above a whisper.
My jaw tightens. “You didn’t think?” My voice slices through the silence, sharp and low. I take a step closer, and she flinches like a child waiting to be struck. “That’s the problem with you people. You never think. You gossip. You whisper. And you ruin everything.”
The girl opens her mouth as if to defend herself, then closes it again, tears glimmering in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she manages. “It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not,” I snap. “Because one mistake—one more careless word—and you’ll be out of here before you can blink. Do you have any idea what’s at stake? If Samora suspects, if Adrian even begins to guess what we’ve been doing, we’re both finished. Do you understand me?”
She nods quickly, her chin trembling. “Yes, Miss Celeste. I do. I swear I’ll be careful.”
I inhale slowly through my nose, trying to calm the storm rising in my chest. My pulse is racing, my skin hot beneath the silk of my dress. Every word, every secret we’ve been balancing—it’s all a fragile house of cards, and this girl nearly blew it all down with her foolish whispering.
For months, I’ve built this illusion. Every look, every movement, every carefully placed sigh—it all has meaning. A performance so convincing even Adrian believes it. One careless sound could destroy everything.
Before I can scold her further, a faint rhythm of footsteps echoes down the hall. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy with arrogance.
I stiffen instantly.
The maid goes completely still.
Out of the shadows, Nathan appears—his hands in his pockets, his smile gleaming in the dim light like the edge of a knife.
“Tsk, tsk,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he strolls closer. “Celeste, you really should keep a tighter leash on your pawns. They tend to wander off and cause such… interesting problems.”
I force my spine straight, ignoring the unease twisting my gut. “What do you want, Nathan?” I ask, keeping my tone flat, cold.
He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and expensive that always makes me think of danger. His gaze travels from the trembling maid to me, lingering far too long. “What I’ve always wanted,” he says finally. “Control.”
The word sends a chill through me.
He tilts his head, his expression calm, almost amused. “You see, my dear, lately I’ve noticed a certain… hesitation in you. A little flicker of guilt, maybe even fear. I can’t have that. Not when we’re this close to everything falling into place.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve kept my mouth shut. I’ve played my part.”
“Mm,” he hums softly, tapping his chin. “Yes, but not well enough. You’ve started to hesitate, Celeste. That’s dangerous.”
He steps closer until I can feel the heat of his breath. “So here’s how this will work—you’ll stop dragging your heels and start helping me. No more doubts. No more excuses.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “And if I don’t?”
Nathan’s grin widens, wicked and bright. “Then I’ll tell Adrian what I already know.”
He pauses, savoring the tension, watching the fear flicker in my eyes. “I’ll tell him,” he continues softly, “that you were never pregnant. That the tiny belly you flaunt at dinner is nothing but latex and straps.”
The words hit me like a slap. For a moment, I can’t breathe. My hand automatically flies to my stomach, pressing against the false curve beneath my dress.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper.
“Oh, I would,” he says lightly. “And I will—unless you remember where your loyalties lie.”
The maid makes a small sound, half gasp, half sob, but Nathan ignores her completely.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Rage, shame, fear—they all burn together until I can barely tell them apart. He’s right. He has me cornered.
If Adrian finds out, it’s over. The marriage, the wealth, the power—all gone in an instant. I’ll be nothing again. No, worse than nothing. I’ll be a liar exposed in front of the entire pack.
My voice comes out hoarse. “Fine,” I whisper. “You’ll have my cooperation.”
Nathan smiles, slow and satisfied. “Good girl.”
He brushes past me on his way out, deliberately close enough that his shoulder grazes mine. I smell the faint trace of smoke on him—like the promise of destruction. “Don’t make me remind you again,” he murmurs near my ear.
The moment he disappears into the shadows, the air rushes out of my lungs. My knees nearly buckle.
The maid looks at me, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. “Miss Celeste… should I—should I destroy the formula samples?”
“Do nothing,” I snap, too quickly, too sharply. I don’t trust my voice to be steady. I don’t trust her to stop shaking. “Go back to your quarters. Keep your mouth shut. I’ll handle this.”
She nods and scurries away, the sound of her footsteps fading fast down the hall.
And then I’m alone.
I press my palm against my stomach again, feeling the hard edges of the prosthetic beneath the fabric. The straps dig into my skin, chafing from the constant wear. It feels like a cage. A prison I built myself and now can’t escape.
I want to scream. To tear it off. To stop pretending.
But I can’t.
Instead, I walk slowly toward the window at the end of the corridor. The night outside is still, the moon hanging low over the garden. The glass reflects my face—painted, perfect, empty.
I whisper to my reflection, “How did I end up here?”
The woman staring back doesn’t answer. She just smiles the hollow smile I’ve practiced for months.
Behind me, the house creaks. Every sound feels amplified—the ticking of the hallway clock, the whisper of the wind through the cracks, the soft beat of my own heart.
Then I hear it.
A faint click.
Soft. Mechanical. Familiar.
I freeze.
My eyes dart toward the far corner of the hall.
There—half-hidden by the bannister—a man stands with a camera in his hands. The faint red light blinks once, then goes dark. He lowers the lens, calm, deliberate, not even pretending to hide.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then he turns and begins to walk away.
“Hey!” I shout, my voice breaking through the quiet. My heels click sharply against the marble as I chase him down the hall. But he’s fast—too fast. By the time I reach the corner, he’s gone.
The corridor is empty again.
Only the faint echo of his footsteps remains, fading into the dark.
I stand there, breathless, staring into the emptiness.
He had seen.
He had proof.
And he had my secret.
Panic claws at my throat. If that photo gets out, if anyone sees what’s beneath this dress—it’s over. Nathan’s threats won’t matter anymore because Adrian will destroy me himself.
My hands tremble as I clutch the fabric over my stomach. The prosthetic feels heavier now, almost mocking.
I whisper to the silence, “Who are you?”
But the house gives no answer. Only the wind moves, brushing through the curtains like a ghost.
I turn back toward the nursery, every step slow and shaky. I can still hear Silven’s faint cries somewhere in the distance, muffled by walls and lies.
A sharp pain blooms in my chest. I hate that baby. I hate what he represents—the bond between Samora and Adrian that I can never break. But at the same time, I envy her. She has something real.
All I have is latex and fear.
At the doorway, I pause and glance over my shoulder, half-expecting the man to reappear, camera in hand.
But there’s nothing.
Just darkness.
And in that darkness, I finally understand—secrets like mine don’t stay buried. They grow teeth. They hunt.
And sooner or later, they come for you.