Chapter230 Spanked by Clifton
"If you go after Celeste right now, the worst that happens to her is she gets sent abroad."
"You know how Grandfather is when it comes to family."
Clifton said it the same way he would state the weather. Calm. Flat. Simply true.
And it was true.
The Prescott name carried enough weight to make even the police think twice. Getting Celeste thrown in prison was next to impossible.
But Miranda couldn't let it go.
The image forced its way into her mind. Her brother, flat on his back in a hospital bed.
If he hadn't been such a good driver. If he hadn't yanked the wheel on pure instinct when that truck came barreling into him and steered away from the worst of it...
A truck that size, hitting him dead on. He would have died on impact.
The thought turned her blood to ice. A hollow, aching fury spread through her chest.
She snapped her eyes up to Clifton, and every ounce of trust she had built up cracked under the weight of her anger.
Her voice came out unsteady, though she didn't notice. "Are you going to cover for her too? Like your grandfather does?"
Clifton said nothing.
But he saw it. The distance in her eyes. The way she had lumped him in with the rest of the Prescotts, as if they were all the same.
His expression darkened.
Before she could react, he reached out, hooked an arm around her, and pulled her clean off balance. She landed face down across his lap.
Smack.
One sharp slap landed on her backside.
Not hard. It didn't hurt. But the sound cracked through the quiet bedroom like a gunshot.
Miranda froze.
Then the heat hit her all at once. Embarrassment and fury shot straight to her face. Her cheeks blazed red.
"Clifton, you"
She tried to push herself up. His hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades and held her down.
His voice came from above her, low and edged with cool steel.
"I do protect family. You're right about that."
A pause.
"But." The temperature in his voice dropped another degree. "No one in this family gets to be a killer."
The blood on his own hands belonged to criminals. People who had earned it.
He would never allow the Prescotts to become people who hurt the innocent. That was his line. It was also the only reason a family like theirs stayed standing long term.
Without that line, power would rot them from the inside out. And the Prescotts would eventually destroy themselves.
Clifton went quiet for a moment. Something shifted behind his eyes, brief and unreadable.
There was something else he had turned up while investigating Christian's accident. Something he was still hoping he was wrong about.
Across his lap, Miranda had stopped struggling.
She had understood him.
He was on her side in this. He hadn't chosen Celeste just because she was family.
And then it hit her. She had just questioned him. After everything. After last night. She had looked at him like he was the enemy, and she had done it without hesitating.
The shame settled over her quietly, smothering the last of her embarrassment about being spanked.
She shifted, still lying across his lap, and tilted her face up.
Then she pressed a soft kiss to the hard line of his jaw.
It worked like a switch.
The coldness left his eyes. Something much warmer and much more dangerous took its place.
What happened after that was... Miranda had not expected the particular position he had in mind.
She was exhausted by the end. She also had no complaints.
The memory faded.
Miranda looked at Celeste standing across the room, venom written all over her face.
The hand Miranda had unconsciously clenched slowly opened.
There was no rush. Payback for her brother could wait.
Celeste had no idea what was going through Miranda's head. All she saw was that Miranda had looked straight at her and not said a single word. No greeting. Not even a glance of acknowledgment.
That cool, unbothered expression set something off inside her.
"Miranda!" Celeste's voice came out sharp. "Are you blind? You look right at me and can't even say hello? Where are your manners?"
Miranda turned to her slowly. A thin smile touched the corner of her mouth.
"By family rank, I'm your sister-in-law. That makes me your elder." Her tone was perfectly even. "So I'd like to know, who exactly has no manners here?"
Celeste's face went red.
She had not expected that. Being put in her place by Miranda, of all people, felt like being slapped by someone she had never once taken seriously.
"You little"
Whatever was left of Celeste's self-control snapped. She grabbed her designer bag, the one with the heavy metal clasp, and hurled it straight at Miranda's face.
"How dare you talk back to me! I'll kill you!"
Her shriek tore through the entire living room.
The bag was inches from connecting when a hand shot out and caught it mid-air.
Celeste spun around to see who had interfered.
And went completely still.
Grandfather Prescott stood at the entrance, his face like stone. Clifton sat in his wheelchair beside him. And the one who had snatched the bag out of the air was the old man's most trusted bodyguard.
"Grand... Grandfather..."
Every bit of fury drained from Celeste's face. What replaced it was pure panic. Her voice trembled.
Miranda saw Prescott and smoothed her expression instantly. She offered him a warm smile and spoke first.
"Grandfather. You're back."
Then she glanced at Celeste, as if she had only just noticed anything was off, and said gently, "Don't worry. Celeste and I were just playing around."
She turned to Celeste, smile still in place.
"Isn't that right, Celeste?"
She said the name lightly. But there was something underneath it that made Celeste's teeth clench.
Celeste was furious. She was shaking with it. But she could not lose it in front of Grandfather.
She forced the words out through her teeth. "Y-yes. Just playing around, Grandfather."
Prescott let out a short, hard sound through his nose.
Playing around.
He wasn't old. His hearing wasn't gone. He had heard every word. He had heard Celeste call Miranda a bitch, clear as day.
If that got out, people wouldn't talk about Celeste. They would talk about the Prescotts. About a family that couldn't keep its own house in order or maintain the most basic dignity in front of guests.
But when he looked at Miranda, something shifted in his expression.
She had not made a scene. She had not used this moment to score points. With outsiders still in the room, her first move had been to protect the family's image.
That took composure. That took the kind of instinct a woman needed to run a household like this one.
Miranda didn't let him study her for long. Once she saw Prescott settle into his seat, she turned to the styling staff with a polished smile.
"Thank you all so much for today. Everything was wonderful. I'll be placing my next season's orders with your store as well. Please let the housekeeper show you out."
"Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Prescott."
The staff thanked her quickly, clearly relieved, and followed the housekeeper out at a brisk pace.
The living room door clicked shut.
Only the Prescotts remained.
Prescott's hand came down on the table with a single heavy knock.
Celeste flinched like she had been struck.
Prescott fixed his gaze on her. His voice was quiet. That made it worse.
"You have dragged this family's name through the dirt."