Chester’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cold and sharp.
Even when his mother had slapped him earlier, Celestine hadn’t reacted half as fiercely as she was now.
He scowled, reaching to snatch the container from her arms.
He was much stronger than she was.
Celestine clung to the container as if her life depended on it, her face–already red and swollen from the earlier slap–flushing even deeper.
If these people were going to drink the soup, she’d rather pour it out for the stray dogs.
Their struggle escalated, Chester’s temper flaring. “Don’t start with me. Let go.”
Celestine gritted her teeth, stubborn but no match for his strength. The container was slipping from her grasp.
Then
a pale, elegant hand appeared, pressing the lid down.
A low, almost amused voice followed.
“Do you two need me to set up a stall for you?”
The tug–of–war ended immediately.
Celestine hugged the nearly overturned container to her chest, grateful as she looked up at the newcomer.
Gideon had traded his hospital gown for a black overcoat today. Tall to begin with, the coat only made him more imposing.
When he wasn’t speaking, he carried a quiet intensity that made it hard for anyone to meet his eyes.
Celestine glanced away, ducking her head and shrinking back.
Gideon’s gaze lingered on the angry red handprint across her face, his expression darkening.
Chester, for his part, let go the moment Gideon appeared, silently sizing up the man before him. He looked familiar. Wasn’t this the guy who’d saved Celestine at the hospital that day?
A ripple of irritation passed through Chester.
Joanna’s eyes flicked between them, gentle and smooth as she stepped forward’s take Chester’s arm. “You must be Mr. Prescott. I’m so sorry for the disturbance We’ll be leaving now.”
Suddenly, it all clicked for Chester.
He offered Gideon a business card. “I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Finley.”
The Prescott family had two sons.
The elder, Finley Prescott, was steady and discreet–the true power behind the family. He was married, with a daughter.
The younger, Gideon, spent most of his time abroad. News of him was rare.
Naturally, Chester assumed the man before him was Finley.
Gideon glanced at the card, indifferent.
He didn’t bother correcting Chester’s mistake. Instead, he said lazily, “Ah, so it’s you.”
“And I suppose this must be your well–kept Mrs. Fordham.”
Joanna, blushing prettily, nestled closer to Chester.
Gideon turned, a hint of a smile in his storm–gray eyes. “That day at the hospital, the way Mr. Fordham shielded Mrs. Fordham behind him left quite an impression. You two are clearly devoted.”
Chester’s face went rigid.
“Speaking of which, Miss Selwyn was truly unfortunate. I remember the knife–how it nearly struck her heart.”
Celestine, listening nearby, felt her hands tighten around the container. The scene replayed in her mind, made real again by his words.
She really had almost died.
With every offhand remark, Gideon’s words made Chester’s face grow darker.
At last, Gideon feigned sudden realization. “Oh–do you all know each othe
“Yes,” Chester replied, feeling that persistent irritation settle even heavier on his heart. He subtly pulled away from Joanna.
“Thank you for stepping in, Mr. Prescott, and saving my wife. I’ll be sure to visit and
21:13 2
thank you properly.”
Joanna’s smile froze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “There’s a
misunderstanding, Mr. Prescott. Chester and I are just friends. We won’t trouble. you any longer–goodbye.”
Gideon raised a brow, feigning surprise.
As soon as Joanna turned and stepped into the elevator, her tears began to fall.
Celia, anxious, tugged Chester’s sleeve. “Dad, Miss Sinclair’s crying. Go check on
her!”
Chester’s brow furrowed. With a hurried nod to Gideon, he said, “Mr. Prescott, goodbye,” and rushed after Joanna into the elevator.
Gideon’s soft chuckle lingered in the air.
Once he left, Dahlia and the two kids hurried to catch up, leaving Celestine standing
alone.
But she was used to being left behind like this. She always had been.
