Chapter 292

Chapter 292
Rosalind

"Die!" Celestina hissed, spittle flying from her lips as her grip tightened around my throat. "Die so I can finally have what should have been mine from the beginning!"

The darkness was closing in, my lungs screaming for air that wouldn't come. Just as I thought consciousness might slip away completely, the world exploded into chaos.

The front door burst open with a thunderous crash, and through my fading vision I saw Marco's men pouring through the entrance. But more importantly, I saw him—Beckett, moving through the mayhem like an avenging angel, his face a mask of controlled fury that could have frozen hell itself.

Celestina's grip on my throat loosened slightly as she turned to see the carnage behind her. The Vandoren security guards lay scattered across the marble floor, some unconscious, others groaning and clutching various injuries. It was clear that Beckett hadn't come alone, and he hadn't come to negotiate.

"No," Celestina whispered, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene. "No, why... why are you here again? Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

Her voice had taken on an almost childlike quality, as if she couldn't quite process that her perfect plan was falling apart once again.

Beckett covered the distance between us in three swift strides, and before Celestina could react, his hand cracked across her face with enough force to send her stumbling backward.

The blow was so sudden and powerful that her grip on my throat released instantly, and I collapsed to my knees, gasping and coughing as precious air rushed back into my lungs.

"You worthless bitch," Beckett snarled, his voice carrying a lethal edge I'd rarely heard before. "Apparently the lesson I taught you last time wasn't thorough enough. This time, I'm going to make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life as a vegetable."

But he wasn't finished. Before Calloway could react, Beckett spun around and drove his fist into the younger man's jaw with brutal efficiency.

Calloway went down hard, blood streaming from his mouth as he clutched his face in shock and pain.

"And you," Beckett continued, standing over his nephew with contempt radiating from every line of his body, "you pathetic excuse for a man. She's your aunt by marriage, and you stood there recording while this psychopath tried to murder her?"

"I... I..." Calloway stammered, scrambling backward across the marble floor. "Uncle Beckett, I didn't know she was going to... I mean, I thought she was just..."

"You thought what?" Beckett demanded, taking a step closer. "That attempted murder was acceptable as long as you got it on camera?"

I managed to push myself to my feet, though my legs felt unsteady and my throat was on fire. Beckett was immediately at my side, his arm sliding around my waist to support me.

"How did you know to come?" I asked, my voice hoarse but grateful.

His expression softened slightly as he looked down at me, though the protective fury still burned in his eyes.

"This morning when you left, you had that look," he said gently. "That determined, slightly reckless expression that usually means you're about to do something dangerous without backup." His thumb brushed carefully over the bruises forming on my neck. "I had Marco track your phone. When we saw you'd come here, to her, I knew you were walking into trouble."

"I had it under control," I protested weakly.

"You were thirty seconds away from being strangled to death," he replied dryly. "That's not what I'd call 'under control.'"

"Well," I said, managing a small smile despite everything, "at least this time there won't be any opportunity for her to hurt anyone again."

Beckett's eyes went cold as he looked back at Celestina, who was still standing frozen in shock. "No. This time I'm going to make sure she never—"

"Actually," I interrupted, my voice growing stronger, "turning her into a vegetable won't be necessary."

I reached into my jacket and pulled out my phone, holding it up so everyone could see the recording app that was still running.

"Everything you just confessed," I said clearly, looking directly at Celestina, "your kidnapping plot, your obsession with my husband, your attempt to murder me—all of it is recorded. In perfect digital quality."

Celestina's face went white as the implications hit her. "You... you were recording me?"

"Every single word," I confirmed with satisfaction. "I hope you enjoy spending the rest of your life in federal prison. Maybe they'll put you in the same facility as Griffin—you two can compare notes on how it feels to be completely powerless."

The fight went out of Celestina completely. She sank into the nearest chair, staring at nothing as the reality of her situation finally penetrated her obsessive delusions.

That's when Calloway found his voice again.

"Uncle Beckett," he said desperately, struggling to his feet despite his injured jaw. "Please. I know I've made mistakes. I know Dad and I... we've done things we shouldn't have. But I'm begging you—show mercy."

Beckett turned to look at his nephew with an expression of complete indifference.

"Mercy?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him.

"Celestina... she's sick, clearly unstable. And Dad..." Calloway's voice cracked with emotion. "Dad's almost fifty years old. I can't bear the thought of him spending the rest of his life in prison. Please, for the sake of family—"

"Family?" Beckett's voice was deadly quiet. "You want to talk about family, Calloway?"

He took a step closer to his nephew, and I could see Calloway fighting the urge to retreat.

"Some things," Beckett said with finality, "are beyond negotiation. Some choices have consequences that can't be bought, bargained, or begged away."

Calloway turned to me with desperate hope in his eyes. "Rosalind, please. I know you have influence with him. You're kind, you're forgiving—surely you can understand that people make mistakes..."

I looked at this young man who'd helped orchestrate months of terror and pain, who'd stood by and filmed while a madwoman tried to strangle me to death, and felt nothing but cold pity.

"Calloway," I said gently, "you need to accept reality. Your father is going to spend the rest of his life in prison. And you're going to join him there."

His face crumpled as the last of his hope died. "But... but we're family..."

"No," I said simply. "Family protects each other. Family doesn't conspire to destroy each other out of greed or jealousy. You chose your side long ago."

I took Beckett's arm, feeling stronger with each passing moment.

"Come on," I said to my husband. "Let's go home. I think we've wasted enough time on people who never deserved our consideration in the first place."

As we walked toward the exit, leaving Calloway kneeling on the marble floor and Celestina staring into space, I felt the final weight of our ordeal lifting from my shoulders.

It was over. Really, truly over.

And this time, I knew with absolute certainty that none of our enemies would ever be in a position to threaten us again.