Chapter 96

Chapter 96
Violet's POV:

Celeste froze for a fraction of a second, her carefully constructed mask wavering as she registered the shift in Daemon's demeanor. Her voice emerged small and cautious, threaded with calculated vulnerability. "It was Riley who suggested I should apologize to Miss Goldcrest. After all, my presence has caused her so much pain. My intention was simply to ask for her forgiveness, to mend the rift between us..."

Such beautiful phrasing, I thought coldly. Responsibility deflected to Riley, benevolence claimed for herself.

But Daemon's next words shattered that expectation entirely.

"Celeste." His voice cut through her explanation like a blade through silk, sharp and uncompromising. "I told you explicitly not to attempt any further manipulation that could harm her. What was this video supposed to convey? That she hates you, that she oppresses you, that you had no choice but to publicly apologize?"

The words struck all of us like a physical blow. Sienna and Lucian stood frozen beside me, their shock mirroring my own paralysis. I found myself unable to reconcile this cold condemnation with the man who had spent months protecting Celeste from every consequence of her actions.

Celeste stood completely still, staring at Daemon as though he had transformed into something unrecognizable, her baby-blue gaze wide and disbelieving.

Within seconds, tears began sliding down her cheeks in perfectly timed rivulets, her expression crumpling into practiced devastation. "Everything is my fault, isn't it? Even apologizing becomes another sin I've committed. Daemon, if the person you truly care for is Miss Goldcrest, why did you pursue me in the first place? What was it about me that made you help me, approach me, spend time with me? Now that I've fallen for you, you push me away, you blame me, you treat me like this—what am I supposed to do?!"

She was still pretending not to know about Aurora, I realized with cold clarity.

Daemon ignored her tears, her grief, her implied accusation. His voice remained controlled and distant, as though he were addressing a business matter rather than a sobbing girl claiming to love him. "I'll issue a statement. This matter ends here. I expect you to stop creating these unnecessary complications for me and focus on staying healthy until you're cleared for surgery."

"I... I understand. I won't presume anymore." Celeste wiped at her tears with trembling fingers, producing a smile that managed to convey both bitter acceptance and profound hurt before turning that wounded gaze on me, as though somehow this entire scene was my fault.

I remained caught in my own thoughts, still trying to understand what Daemon's feelings for Celeste actually were. Was it purely because of Aurora's heart beating in her chest that he continued to protect her? Aurora represented his greatest regret, the deepest wound in his history.

But watching his clinical detachment, I felt something shift inside me—a peculiar hollowness that I hadn't anticipated. I realized with strange clarity that I hadn't lost to a living, breathing rival. I had lost to an organ with no memory, no consciousness, no ability to choose. I had been defeated by a heart that couldn't even remember the love it had once held.

"Sienna, I'm leaving," I said quietly, turning away from the tableau of Daemon's frost and Celeste's tears.

Sienna immediately followed me out, with Lucian close behind.

Once the elevator doors closed around us, Sienna spoke, her voice filled with genuine confusion. "What the hell was that about? Why did Daemon treat Celeste that way? He finally gets the girl he's been protecting, and instead of being protective, he's ice cold to her?"

Lucian looked equally baffled. "She has a serious heart condition. He should be more concerned about her health, more careful with her emotions."

I suspected that Lucian remained unaware of the full truth—that Celeste carried Aurora's transplanted heart, that Daemon's protection stemmed from grief and guilt rather than romantic attachment. Apart from myself and Daemon, Celeste and Linda, I doubted anyone else understood the complete picture.

This wasn't my secret to reveal.

We emerged from the hospital into the cool evening air, and I found myself face-to-face with Linda approaching from the opposite direction. The moment her eyes landed on me, her expression transformed—subtle but unmistakable layers of hostility and revulsion flickering across her features.

I knew from my earlier contact with Aiden that Linda had resigned from her position to remain in Frost Pack territory and care for Celeste during her illness and treatment.

"What are you doing here?" Linda's voice emerged cold and accusatory. "Coming to stress out Celeste again?"

"Violet, who is this bitch?" Sienna asked sharply.

"My former colleague from Silver Ridge. Linda Morrison." I kept my voice neutral.

Sienna's eyes narrowed with instant recognition. "Oh, so this is Bitch Celeste's beloved sister figure. What a self-righteous hypocrite!"

Because Celeste resembled Linda's dead sister, Linda had transferred all her protective instincts onto this stranger, willing to overlook every moral failing, every manipulative act, every cruel choice. She stood on her self-constructed moral high ground, applying completely different standards depending on who committed the offense. What else could you call that except self-righteous hypocrisy?

Linda's face flushed with fury, her hands clenching into fists. "Watch your fucking mouth! You think being pregnant gives you immunity? I'm not afraid to hit a pregnant woman!"

I stepped smoothly in front of Sienna, my body language shifting into something harder, more dangerous. "You dare touch her and I'll tear you apart, Linda."

The warning landed with its intended weight. Linda's aggression wavered before she finally stalked past us into the hospital, her spine rigid with suppressed rage.

Sienna watched her go with undisguised contempt. "Everyone closely associated with Bitch Celeste makes my skin crawl!" She punctuated this by viciously pinching Lucian's arm. "Including you, you blind idiot!"

Lucian yelped in pain, immediately raising his hands in surrender. "I see clearly now! I swear I do! If I ever defend her again, may lightning strike me dead!"

"How exactly did your eyes suddenly get fixed?" Sienna's tone dripped with sarcasm.

Lucian launched into an explanation of how he and I had eavesdropped outside Celeste's room, relating how Sienna's confrontation had stripped away Celeste's mask and revealed her true nature. When he finished, Sienna turned to me, gripping my shoulder. "Violet, you're absolutely brilliant—knowing she would drop the act when she thought no one important was watching!"

I offered a slight smile. "Of course. She's always been this way with me when we're alone, probably because she views me as a defeated rival, someone not worth the effort of maintaining her facade."

Sienna nodded vigorously. "That makes perfect sense. If we'd all gone in together today instead of me going alone first, she probably would have put on an Oscar-worthy performance!"

After ensuring Sienna was calm enough to go home safely, I bid farewell to the couple and mounted my motorcycle, heading back toward my parents' house as twilight deepened around me.

When I arrived home, I found my mother still awake in the living room, her worried expression transforming to relief the moment I walked through the door. "There you are! I was starting to really worry. It's so late!"

"What, afraid I went running back to Daemon like an idiot?" I asked as I shrugged off my jacket.

"Well, can you blame me? I'm your mother—I know your personality better than anyone. You've loved Daemon for so many years. I was terrified you might not be able to let go."

I settled onto the couch beside her, looping my arm through hers. "If I couldn't let go, would I have rejected him? Would I have moved all the way to Silver Ridge? Mom, they're the ones who keep finding ways to create drama in my life."

My mother patted my hand gently. "I know, sweetheart." Her voice softened, taking on a note of profound regret. "I just... I keep thinking about that baby. If you had told us earlier, maybe we could have protected her."

The familiar ache bloomed in my chest. "Mom, if you and Dad had known I was pregnant, would you really not have objected?"

"Of course we would have objected," she admitted. "But if you had insisted, what could we have done? We would have supported your choice eventually." She released a long sigh. "Your father and I want grandchildren, Violet. All my friends are already grandmothers or plan to be soon..."

I had been maintaining my smile throughout this conversation, but as my mother spoke about grandchildren and missed opportunities, I felt my control beginning to crack. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes and began sliding down my cheeks, the physical manifestation of a grief I tried so hard to keep contained.

I didn't know if my parents would ever get to be grandparents. The medical reality was brutal—my chances of another pregnancy were astronomically low.

Noticing my tears, my mother immediately grabbed tissues and began dabbing at my face. "Oh, honey, don't cry. We don't blame you. Maybe... maybe the baby knew she wouldn't have a complete family, so she decided to wait. She'll come back when the time is right."

The comforting fiction of my mother's words cracked something open inside me. I cried harder, my body shaking with sobs I could no longer suppress, all the grief and guilt and rage pouring out in an unstoppable flood.

My mother held me through it all, murmuring soothing words and stroking my hair, letting me cry until I was completely exhausted. Only then did she help me to my room, tucking me into bed like she had when I was a child.

The next day, I didn't wake until well past noon, my swollen eyes protesting against the bright sunlight. My phone sat on the nightstand vibrating insistently, the notification counter already past ninety-nine messages.

I unlocked the screen to find our group chat in absolute chaos. The trigger was Celeste's apology video—deliberately pushed onto trending topics. While many viewers had responded with sympathy, Sienna and the others had deployed their own resources to flood the comments with counter-perspectives, calling out Celeste's manipulative tactics.

These critical comments were gaining traction. People who had harbored private doubts about Celeste's carefully constructed image were finding the courage to voice their skepticism.

But then Daemon had intervened. His team had launched a professional damage control operation, issuing statements that defended Celeste's intentions, framing her actions as nothing more than genuine remorse.

I stared at the screenshots Sienna had forwarded and felt absolutely nothing.

Sienna: That bastard Daemon! PROTECTING HIS MISTRESS right in front of everyone! This is disgusting!

Lily: I can only say... wow.

Jade: Violet, are you okay? Do you need us to come over?

I typed out a response: I'm fine. I really don't care about any of this anymore. Don't worry about me.

And it was true. Whatever the outside world thought no longer had the power to wound me.

But Daemon's next move, executed the following day, managed to surprise me.

A representative from his legal team arrived at my parents' house carrying a leather portfolio, presenting me with a formal property division agreement. I accepted the document with cautious confusion, settling into a chair to review its contents with growing disbelief.

The agreement proposed to redistribute Daemon's assets, allocating half of his registered vehicles, properties, and liquid capital to me, along with ten percent of Blackwood Dynamics' shares.

While my family was comfortable, we operated on a completely different scale than Blackwood Dynamics. The assets Daemon was offering represented wealth nearly equivalent to my entire family's business value. This wasn't a token gesture. This was substantial, transformative money.

I sat staring at the agreement for a long time before finally reaching for my phone and calling Daemon.

He answered almost immediately. "Did you receive the agreement?"

"I did. What is this supposed to mean?"

"I showed it to my parents first. They approved." His response came matter-of-fact. "This represents what I owe you. I can't compensate you for the physical and emotional damage I've caused, but I can ensure you're provided for materially."

I knew I should sign immediately. But something held me back—the recognition that accepting this settlement would somehow finalize everything, would serve as tacit agreement that he had adequately addressed all the harm he'd caused.

"I need time to think about it," I heard myself saying.

"When you've signed it, call me."

He ended the call with characteristic abruptness.

I hadn't been sitting there long when my father returned home. He noticed the papers immediately, his expression shifting from curiosity to something harder. I explained the situation in brief, factual terms.

At the mention of Daemon's name, my father's face darkened. He took the agreement from my hands, scanning through it before letting out a derisive sound. "Hmph. At least he's generous in this one respect. Too bad that's the only area where he behaves like a decent person."

"Violet, this decision is yours to make," my father continued. "Our family has more than enough resources to support you comfortably. We don't need his money. What we want is dignity, respect. Taking this settlement is your right—you're entitled to compensation. Refusing it would demonstrate pride and strength of character. I'll understand and support whatever choice you make."

"Alright," I said finally. "I told Daemon the agreement would stay with me while I consider it carefully."

Before we could continue, my mother called from the kitchen, announcing that lunch was ready.

Watching my parents across the dining table—noticing the silver threads increasingly visible in their hair—I felt a sudden wave of longing, a desperate wish that I could have been reborn all the way back to the very beginning. To when I was seventeen and first laid eyes on Daemon, when my parents were still young and vital, when I was still an innocent girl with my whole future stretching ahead untouched.

But rebirth had its limits, and wishes changed nothing.

After lunch, my father returned to work and my mother left to meet friends, leaving me alone in the quiet house. I sprawled across the living room couch with mindless television playing in the background. At some point I drifted into sleep, waking only when the afternoon sun had shifted into early evening shadows.

My phone showed several missed calls, all from Iris Harrison—we met briefly at her father's birthday. Since I hadn't answered, she had followed up with a text message: Violet, are you free tonight? I'd love to take you out for dinner. I know this amazing place that just opened downtown.