Chapter189 Divorce Miranda
Miranda didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in the man’s eyes.
She took off her earrings in front of the mirror and spoke casually. "By the way, I’m going on a trip with Castillo to relax. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and should be gone for about three days."
Clifton’s voice dropped an octave when he heard this. "Fine."
After a pause, he asked, "Do you want me to have someone book your tickets?"
"No need." Miranda put her earrings into the jewelry box and smiled at him through the mirror. "It’s just the next city over. Castillo is driving. It’s easier that way."
Clifton looked back down at his magazine. However, he couldn’t focus on a single word on the page.
The next morning.
Miranda woke up early. After getting ready, she carried her silver suitcase downstairs.
She paused when she reached the living room.
Usually, Clifton would have left for the office by now. Today, he was actually home.
Hearing the noise, the man turned his head to look at her.
Their eyes met.
Miranda was a bit surprised, but she quickly put on a smile. "Morning. Why are you still home?"
Clifton set down his coffee cup. His gaze swept over her suitcase, and his eyes darkened slightly.
"I’m heading to the office a bit later today."
"Oh, I see." Miranda nodded. She didn't think much of it and checked her watch. "Castillo is already waiting for me at the meeting spot, so I’ll be going now. Take care of yourself while I'm gone."
Clifton pursed his lips and gave a cold grunt in response.
Miranda didn't mind. She grabbed her suitcase handle and walked toward the entrance.
Clifton didn't look away until her back disappeared through the door.
Right then, a sharp clicking sound broke the silence of the living room. It was the sound of a camera shutter.
Clifton frowned deeply and shot a piercing glare toward the corner of the sofa.
Celeste was holding her phone, pointing it toward the door. A smug, malicious grin was plastered on her face.
Seeing Clifton look over, she didn't look guilty at all. Instead, she triumphantly opened a chat window on her screen.
Clifton’s face darkened instantly. The air around him grew cold. "What are you doing?"
"Taking photos!" Celeste said righteously. She began typing rapidly on her screen. "I’m sending this to Grandpa. I want him to see exactly what kind of 'good' granddaughter-in-law he chose."
"Delete it," Clifton said, his voice icy.
"I won't!" Celeste curled her lip and hovered her finger over the send button. "Why should I? Am I wrong?"
"You finally have a day to rest at home, and what does she do? She grabs her bags and runs off!"
Celeste felt more justified the more she spoke. She rolled her eyes. "I think she just doesn't like you. Maybe she even despises the fact that you're crippled. You’re the only one who treats her like a treasure."
"Celeste!"
Clifton roared, his hand slamming down on the armrest of his wheelchair.
He moved the wheelchair forward, closing the distance between him and Celeste in seconds.
The overwhelming pressure of a man in power crashed down on her.
Celeste jumped in fear. She instinctively shrank into the sofa, her hand trembling as she held the phone.
Clifton stared at her screen. The photo of Miranda’s back as she walked away looked incredibly piercing.
"Recall the message," he commanded.
Celeste looked into her cousin’s eyes. They looked like they could swallow her whole. She felt weak, but then she remembered Grandpa had her back. She locked her phone and straightened her neck. "No! I already sent it! Grandpa has a right to know!"
"You want to protect her? Well, I’m going to make sure Grandpa knows this woman doesn't care about you at all! She isn't good enough for you. It’s better if you two get a divorce!"
Clifton was so angry he laughed. A cold light gleamed in his deep eyes.
"Good. Very good."
He looked at Celeste. His tone was so calm it was terrifying. "It seems your life has been too easy these past few years. You’ve forgotten the rules of the Prescott family. Since you haven't learned how to respect Mrs. Prescott, you can go learn how to survive instead."
"Starting today, I am freezing all your credit cards. Without my permission, the finance department won't give you a single cent."
This hit Celeste right where it hurt.
She instantly lost her spark. Her face turned pale, and her eyes widened in disbelief. "Clifton! You... how could you do this? You’re cutting me off because of that woman?!"
How could a socialite like her live without money? The bags, the parties, the high-society events—everything cost money.
"Recall it, or the cards stay frozen. Choose," Clifton said. There was no room for negotiation.
Celeste bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes.
She didn't dare to actually fight Clifton. He controlled the entire Prescott Group. If he said he was cutting her off, he meant it.
Celeste hated Miranda with a passion, but she had to give in.
Under Clifton’s cold gaze, she slowly took out her phone to recall the message.
Just then, steady footsteps echoed from the stairs.
A voice, old but full of authority, rang out. "No need to recall it. I’ve already seen it."
Celeste froze. She looked up as if she had seen a savior. "Grandpa!"
Mr. Prescott held his cane, his face set in a grim expression. He was clearly in a terrible mood.
He ignored Celeste and looked straight at Clifton. The pressure he exerted was suffocating.
"Clifton, follow me to the study."
With that, the old man turned and walked toward the upstairs office.
Clifton watched his grandfather’s back, his eyes darkening.
He pressed his lips thin and followed in his wheelchair.
Meanwhile, on the intercity highway.
A red Porsche convertible was speeding along.
The wind roared past, messing up Miranda’s long hair. However, it also seemed to blow away the gloom that had been weighing on her heart.
The phone on the passenger seat vibrated again.
Miranda glanced at it.
The screen showed that same annoying name: Dominic.
This was the twelfth call he had made in the last thirty minutes.
Miranda didn't need to answer to know what he was going to say.
Castillo, who was driving, caught a glimpse and snorted. "He’s certainly persistent."
A cold smirk played on Miranda’s lips. She reached for the phone.
She opened her messages and sent a quick note to Christian and her mother. She told them she was taking a few days off. Then, she held down the power button.
The screen went black.
Seeing this, Castillo whistled. He gave Miranda a thumbs-up with one hand. "Nice move! You should have done that a long time ago."
"Make him worry! The more anxious he gets, the better. Only when he's desperate will he be too afraid to touch you or your brother."
---
Inside the study at the Prescott Estate.
The air was thick and heavy.
Mr. Prescott sat behind a large desk. The photo Celeste had sent was still burned into his mind.
"You and Miranda... get a divorce."