Chapter 8 - Celeste’s PriceCeleste Westbrook arrived at the manor shortly after nine.
She did not deny coming. She did not deny knowing. She simply acted offended that anyone would question her judgment.
“I saved this family,” she said.
Adrian stood across from her in the same library where she had once taught him that Westbrooks did not apologize in public.
“You stole a child.”
Celeste’s eyes flashed. “I secured your future.”
Clara rose slowly. “You told me my baby died.”
Celeste glanced at her as if she were furniture that had spoken.
“You were twenty-three, broke, emotional, and attached to a man far above your world.”
“I was his mother.”
“You were an inconvenience.”
Adrian flinched.
Clara did not. Something inside her had burned too long to be frightened now.
“You buried me alive,” she said. “You let me grieve a child who was breathing.”
For the first time, Celeste looked slightly uncomfortable.
Only slightly.
“You would have taken him from Adrian.”
“I would have raised him with Adrian if you had not kept us apart.”
Celeste turned to her son. “She would have dragged you into scandal. You were building hospitals, leading foundations, negotiating the largest merger of your career. You were not going to throw that away for a charity ward nurse.”
Adrian’s voice cracked. “You decided that for me?”
“I did what your father would have done.”
“My father is dead,” Adrian said. “And if this is what he would have done, then I’m glad Noah never knew him.”
Celeste slapped the table.
“Do not become sentimental. That boy has had every advantage because of me.”
Clara’s eyes filled with tears. “Except the truth.”
Rebecca stepped forward. “Mrs. Westbrook, did you offer Vivienne a marriage settlement in exchange for raising Noah as her own?”
Celeste was silent.
Vivienne, standing near the doorway, answered.
“Ten million dollars. A trust. A Westbrook wedding. All I had to do was sign the papers and smile for magazines.”
Adrian turned toward her slowly.
“You sold yourself my son.”
Vivienne’s eyes filled, but there was no innocence left in them.
“I loved you.”
“No,” Adrian said. “You loved becoming permanent.”
Celeste’s voice turned icy. “Careful, Adrian. Destroy me, and you destroy your own name.”
He looked at Noah’s toy rabbit sitting on the desk.
Then at Clara.
May you like
Then at his mother.
“No,” he said. “I destroy the lie.”
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