Alistair steadied himself on the arms of the wheelchair and slowly rose to his feet.
“Celly, if you feel wronged, just tell your grandfather. Marriage isn’t something to be taken lightly. You can’t just walk away from it on a whim,” he said, his tone stern and commanding.
The weight of authority emanated from him, pressing down on everyone in the
room.
Celestine supported her grandfather, lost in her own thoughts.
Catching her eye, Alistair glanced at the two children, signaling them with a look.
Raymond, still in tears, ran to Celestine and clung to her. “Mom, please don’t leave us. Don’t leave Dad. I’m begging you, don’t get divorced. We can’t be without you.”
Celia had been stunned silent by the tense scene, but Alistair’s imposing presence jolted her back to her senses. Soon, she joined Raymond, sobbing by Celestine’s
side.
“Mom, I miss you so much. If you and Dad get divorced, we won’t have a family anymore,” she cried.
Ever since Celestine disappeared, Chester’s mood had grown unpredictable. He hadn’t been much of a talker before, but at least when he spoke, he used to be gentle. Now, the children were too afraid even to meet his gaze.
It was only after their mother was gone that they truly understood how much she meant to this family. The thought of losing her for good terrified them.
Celestine looked down at her two heartbroken children, her chest tightening with an almost unbearable heaviness. The more suffocating it felt, the sharper the irony
became.
They weren’t afraid of her divorcing Chester–they were just terrified of losing their maid, of not having someone to fetch and carry for them, to serve every meal and clean up every mess.
Her gaze turned icy as she looked at them. “Grandpa, I’ve thought this through very carefully. I know exactly what I’m doing,” she said firmly. “Chester is tainted, inside and out. I can’t possibly keep pretending he’s still fit to be my husband.”
“And as for the person he’s been ‘tainted‘ with, well, I think we all know who that is, even if I don’t spell it out.”
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Chapter 212
Chester’s mother, Dahlia, bristled with anger. “What are you implying? There’s nothing wrong with Chester! Celestine, don’t you dare slander him like this just because he’s not here to defend himself!”
“Then where is he now?” Celestine shot back.
Dahlia sneered. “He’s out there, risking his own health for you! He’s doing that ridiculous blessing ritual to save you, and you have the nerve to insult him? You should be ashamed! Don’t you dare act so high and mighty with me!”
“Enough!” Alistair barked, his sharp gaze silencing Dahlia instantly.
“Celly, there must be some misunderstanding here. If there is, we’ll clear it up together. Chester didn’t come today because he’s praying for your wellbeing. Don’t doubt his intentions,” Alistair said, trying to reason with her.
Celestine listened in silence, growing colder inside with every word.
If she hadn’t received Joanna’s taunting text, or if Master Herschel hadn’t told her the truth behind this so–called blessing ritual, she might have been moved by their performance.
The Fordham family–a place where people would eat you alive if you let them.
Even Alistair, whom she once thought cared for her, turned out to be just as cold and calculating as the rest when the mask slipped.
Thankfully, she’d learned this lesson the hard way, the year her parents died.
Taking a steadying breath, Celestine kept her face neutral, choosing not to expose
Alistair’s lies.
Feigning surprise, she asked, “If that’s the case, Grandpa, can you take me to see
him?”
“Of course,” Alistair replied, his expression softening into grandfatherly warmth.
“But before we go, let me explain. The blessing ritual requires one man and one woman. The women in our circle refuse to participate–they think it’s bad luck, nobody wants to get involved. Only Joanna insisted on helping Chester. But don’t worry, all they do is burn incense together every hour in the same room and make sure the flames don’t go out. That’s all. There’s nothing improper going on between them.”
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