Chapter58 Celeste's Scheme
It was late when Miranda got back to the Prescott Manor.
With the company mole exposed, the heavy weight that had burdened her for over half a month was finally lifted, and she felt significantly relieved. She was too exhausted even to clean up. She collapsed onto the soft, massive bed in the master bedroom, fell asleep without even taking off her jacket, and was out cold.
She slept a deep, profound sleep.
She didn't know how long it lasted, but in her drowsiness, she felt a subtle, ticklish sensation on her neck, like a feather or warm breath. Miranda frowned, impatiently trying to brush it away, but the feeling became clearer.
She suddenly opened her eyes.
A strikingly handsome face was right in front of hers.
It was Clifton.
He was leaning over her, his deep black eyes dark as undiluted ink. His warm breath was fanning her neck.
Miranda's mind was still groggy, and she didn't react immediately.
The next second, she felt a cool large hand reaching for her shirt buttons, his finger already undoing the first one.
"!"
The blood rushed to her head! Miranda abruptly sat up, instinctively protecting her chest with her hands, glaring at the man in front of her.
"Clifton! What… what are you doing?"
Her voice carried a faint rasp and tremor, the sound edged by both surprise and the fact that she had just woken up.
Clifton saw her defensive reaction and calmly withdrew his hand. He leaned back comfortably against his wheelchair, his long fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.
He raised a handsome eyebrow, his tone casually reasonable: "Just helping you change your clothes."
Miranda froze when she heard that, instinctively looking down. That's when she realized she was still in the business clothes she'd worn from the office, which were now wrinkled from sleeping.
On the other side of the bed, a set of her usual silk pajamas was neatly folded. Clearly, Clifton had just brought them over.
While she was still bewildered, the man's deep, pleasant voice sounded again, carrying a hint of playful amusement.
"What did you think I was doing?"
"..."
Miranda's cheeks instantly flushed hot. She had clearly jumped to the wrong conclusion, and he only wanted to help her change into pajamas?
How embarrassing!
She cleared her throat, her eyes evasive, stubbornly trying to cover her awkwardness. "N-Nothing. I wasn't thinking anything."
Clifton's smile deepened as he watched her ears turn completely red. He wheeled his chair closer to her.
The man's clean, pleasant scent enveloped her instantly. He leaned in slightly, his warm breath brushing her ear, his voice dropping low, husky, and utterly captivating.
"I almost forgot. It's been a few days since that night."
That night?
Miranda's heart leaped. Those wild, mortifying scenes flashed through her mind. Before she could react, she heard the man continue in his magnetic voice: "Perfect. Let me check if the skin on your chest is healing up."
Boom!
Miranda's face went completely red, like a boiled shrimp. This man!
How could he say something so suggestive in such a serious tone?!
"No need!" She practically shrieked in refusal, grabbing the pajamas nearby and hugging them tightly. "It's completely healed! It's late. I'm... I'm going to take a shower now."
With that, she rushed into the bathroom without looking back, her retreat flustered and frantic.
Bang! The bathroom door slammed shut.
Hearing the rushing water inside, Clifton, sitting in his wheelchair, couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.
His long fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, and a soft wave of tenderness spread across his deep eyes.
It seems that woman's company problem is truly resolved. His observation skills were sharp. He had noticed Miranda's constant worry lately; even in her sleep, her brows were furrowed.
When he returned just now, he saw that while her face was tired, the persistent cloud of gloom was gone from her bright eyes. That's why he decided to tease her—to help her relax the nerves that had been strained for so long.
It seemed to have worked.
That night, Miranda slept soundly, without a single dream.
The next day, she woke up early, feeling refreshed and energized. With the company issue settled, she could finally dedicate all her attention to Clifton's birthday celebration.
She instructed the butler to begin setting up the manor's back garden according to the chosen plan. The back garden of the Prescott Manor was massive, with perfectly manicured lawns and a huge European-style fountain in the center, large enough to accommodate hundreds of guests.
The party was scheduled for the evening.
The guests would mainly be influential figures from the business world, so every detail had to be flawless. Miranda knew this was more than just a birthday party; it was a test of her capabilities by the Prescott family. The Prescott Matriarch needed to be not only elegant but capable, resourceful, and independent.
Therefore, she spent the entire day in the back garden, personally overseeing every detail, from the flower arrangements to the lighting adjustments and the menu confirmation.
She left no stone unturned, ensuring everything was perfect.
It wasn't until nightfall, when the lights came on, that Miranda dragged her tired body out of the garden and returned to her room.
The maid had already delivered the gown. It was a champagne-colored strapless floor-length dress, expertly tailored, with tiny scattered diamonds on the skirt that glittered under the lights.
Once dressed, Miranda headed to the back garden alone. She was supposed to go with Clifton, but he had a sudden international conference call, so she had to go ahead without him.
The moment she arrived, she ran right into Celeste.
Celeste was wearing a fiery red minidress and perfect makeup, but her beautiful eyes were filled with malice. She glared viciously at Miranda, looking like she wanted to say something, but ultimately remembered her grandfather's warning. She could only grind her teeth and walk away resentfully.
Miranda raised a brow slightly. It seemed Prescott's lecture had been effective; Celeste hadn't bothered her in days.
She dismissed the venomous look, adjusted the polite smile on her lips, and entered the back garden.
Meanwhile, the furious Celeste hadn't gone far. She went straight up to a small building next to the garden. She stood by a second-floor window, staring intently at Miranda in the garden.
Miranda held her glass with a bright, confident smile, and in the way she carried herself, there was already a clear hint of the future Mrs. Prescott’s elegance.
That sight made Celeste's eyes sting with pain.
It's all because of this bitch! If not for her, why would Grandpa have scolded her? If not for her, why would her cousin have put a limit on her bank card, forcing her to hesitate over buying a new handbag?
Celeste's eyes churned with malicious hatred. Miranda, you want to be the Prescott Matriarch?
We'll see if they still accept you once you've been used, ruined, and dirtied! Let's see if Cousin and Grandpa still acknowledge a shameless Mrs. Prescott then!
As this evil thought settled, a cruel, cold smile spread across Celeste's face. She pulled a small white paper packet from her expensive handbag and, without hesitation, poured all the powder inside into the orange-colored juice in the glass in front of her.
The powder dissolved instantly without a trace. She picked up the glass, swirled it lightly, and a sinister expression curved her lips.
Miranda, this is the 'gift' I prepared just for you.
Enjoy your night.