Chapter 290

Chapter 290
Rosalind

The Vandoren estate squatted on the coastline like a monument to excessive wealth and questionable taste. Perched on a rocky outcrop with the Atlantic Ocean crashing dramatically behind it, the mansion was designed to intimidate—all sharp angles, dark stone, and windows that looked like empty eyes staring out at the world.

Perfect setting for a family of predators, I thought as I approached the imposing front entrance.

The sound hit me before I'd even reached the front steps—a woman's desperate sobbing echoing from somewhere deep within the house, punctuated by Calloway's voice murmuring what sounded like encouragement and comfort. The raw emotion in those cries made the hair on my arms stand up, but not with sympathy.

So. Celestina really is coherent again.

Two guards in expensive suits flanked the massive front door, their posture alert and professional. As I climbed the stone steps with deliberate confidence, they moved to block my path.

"Ma'am," the larger of the two said politely, "this is private property. I'm going to need to see some identification and—"

"Your mistress Celestina is expecting me," I interrupted smoothly, my voice carrying the kind of casual authority that suggested questioning me would be a mistake.

The guard's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ma'am, I don't have any record of—"

"Then perhaps you should check with her directly," I suggested with a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.

The first guard spoke into his radio while his partner studied my face with growing recognition. After a moment, the second man stepped forward with obvious reluctance.

"I know who you are," he said quietly. "Mrs. Montgomery. I've seen you on the news." He glanced nervously toward the door, then back at me. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I think you should leave. What we've been hearing from inside... the anger, the accusations... they're all directed at you."

I tilted my head, genuinely curious about his concern. "And you're worried about me?"

"I'm worried about what might happen if you go in there," he replied honestly. "Miss Celestina is... she's not in a forgiving mood."

"How thoughtful of you," I said with genuine appreciation. "But you see, I'm here specifically to help calm everyone down. Sometimes these situations require a personal touch."

The guard looked like he wanted to argue further, but his partner returned from his radio consultation with a expression that was part confusion, part anticipation.

"She says to let her in," he reported with a shrug. "Apparently the lady of the house is very eager to see Mrs. Montgomery."

I nodded graciously. "Thank you. I do hate to keep people waiting."

As I stepped toward the entrance, I noticed both guards scanning the driveway behind me, clearly checking whether I'd brought backup or witnesses. When they confirmed I was alone, I heard the unmistakable sound of the heavy door being locked behind me.

The interior of the mansion was exactly what I'd expected from Xavier Vandoren: ostentatious wealth displayed with all the subtlety of a circus poster. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, oil paintings that looked expensive rather than beautiful. Everything designed to impress rather than inspire.

The crying was louder now, coming from what appeared to be a sitting room just off the main foyer. I followed the sound, my heels clicking against the marble with the steady rhythm of approaching destiny.

The scene that greeted me was almost theatrical in its staging.

Celestina Vandoren sat in an antique chair that looked like it belonged in a museum, her entire body shaking with sobs. But even through her tears, I could see the dramatic change in her appearance. Gone was the vacant, glassy-eyed stare of madness. Gone was the constant drooling and incoherent mumbling.

This was the Celestina I remembered from our social warfare days—sharp, focused, and absolutely burning with intelligence and fury.

Her eyes locked onto mine the moment I entered the room, and the transformation was instantaneous. The crying stopped as if someone had thrown a switch, replaced by a hatred so pure and concentrated it was almost physical.

"You," she breathed, rising from her chair with predatory grace. "You finally came."

Before I could respond, she launched herself at me with a shriek of rage, her perfectly manicured nails aimed at my face.

Calloway moved quickly, catching her around the waist and pulling her back before she could reach me.

"Celestina, please," he said urgently, though I noticed he was trying to position his phone to capture our interaction. "Remember what we discussed. We need to document your accusations properly. We need evidence of what they did to you."

I took a step closer to the struggling woman, studying her face with clinical interest.

"You know, Celestina," I said conversationally, "when you were... unwell... I actually felt quite guilty about what happened to you. I used to lie awake at night wondering if we'd gone too far."

"I don't want your fake sympathy!" she spat, straining against Calloway's restraining arms. "I want justice! I want the whole world to know what you and that monster you married did to me!"

I nodded thoughtfully, as if seriously considering her words.

"But here's the thing," I continued, my voice taking on a harder edge. "Now that I'm looking at you—really looking at you—I realize I was being far too sentimental."

Celestina's struggles slowed as she processed what I was saying.

"Someone like you," I said clearly, making sure my words carried to every corner of the room, "someone who would conspire to kidnap and torture an innocent woman... honestly, ending up in a mental institution was probably too good for you. You're lucky you're still breathing."

The room went completely silent except for the sound of Celestina's ragged breathing and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs outside.

Then she exploded.

"YOU BITCH!" she screamed, breaking free from Calloway's grip and lunging at me again.

This time I didn't move to avoid her. Instead, I stood my ground and smiled as she came at me with claws extended and murder in her eyes.

From the corner of my vision, I could see Calloway raising his phone, his face lit up with satisfaction as he began recording our confrontation.