Chester offered a faint smile. “I don’t suppose I need to explain myself to you, Uncle Harrison. But the Prescotts sent someone over today, didn’t they? Mr. Prescott stood up for my wife at the hotel–seems they’re quite close. Aren’t you the least bit interested in that connection?”
Harrison Fordham’s expression wavered between bemusement and suspicion, as though he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
Was his nephew truly this audacious now?
Even if the Selwyns wouldn’t lend a hand, Celestine was still Chester’s lawfully wedded wife.
The way Chester spoke, it almost sounded as if he’d handed her over himself.
Tsk.
That wasn’t much more honorable than Victor’s methods.
At least his own son would never stoop so low as to barter a woman for leverage.
Then again, Celestine wasn’t his daughter–in–law. If Chester’s branch of the family stumbled, his own son would have a shot at succession. Harrison couldn’t help but be amused by the drama–he’d be perfectly happy to see the second branch create
their own mess.
If Chester really did lose everything, Harrison’s boy still had hope.
A shrewd glint flashed in Harrison’s eyes. “Oh? Why don’t you tell me more?”
After Alistair collapsed, Celestine wasn’t able to catch a ride back with the Fordham family.
The Fordhams made no effort to hide their dislike of her, but Alistair, at least, had once shown her genuine kindness.
She managed to get news from the old house’s staff that the patriarch was out of danger, and only then did she allow herself to breathe again.
On her way back to the hotel, Chester called.
“Celly, I want to apologize for what happened today–on behalf of Joanna and my
mother.”
20:21
Chapter 153
Celestine found that almost amusing. “Then let them say it to me themselves.
Chester’s tone dropped, serious. “I know you’re upset, but things got out of hand. It was Granddad’s birthday, after all. Couldn’t you forgive them, just this once, for his sake?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not a saint. What you’re asking is impossible.”
The city skyline flashed past her window, glittering and indifferent.
How could Chester not love her?
He coddled her so much, it was suffocating.
A faintly mocking smile curved on Celestine’s lips. “Mr. Fordham, I’ll return every slap from today, one by one. And don’t forget your promise–let’s get that divorce on the calendar.”
The next second, his voice erupted from the phone, angry and flustered. “Celestine, I really don’t understand you! Are you seeing someone behind my back? Why are you always so eager to talk about divorce?”
“Oh, what’s wrong, Chester? You have your dalliances, but I’m the one who needs a purity lecture? Or are you just scared that if I leave, your standing in the Fordham family will crumble? After all, you weren’t the only heir in the running.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
Chester, always so obsessed with appearances, could never handle this kind of
talk.
But after what Alistair had revealed today, it all started to make sense. Maybe Chester hadn’t married her out of love or even out of some noble sense of duty. Maybe, after one night together, he’d been forced–by family conditions, by ambition–to tie himself to her. He had never loved her, but threw away his true love regardless.
If it were love, no one would have needed to force his hand.
Most likely, Alistair had added a clause to the succession–marrying her in exchange for the inheritance.
That was why Chester had risked it all.
And dragged her into the same mire.
He’d gotten everything he wanted out of the deal.
But what about her?
She’d been left in the dark, watching her husband’s betrayals and blaming herself for not being grateful enough.
She’d struggled to raise two children, only for one of them to turn on her today.
She had nearly ended up in jail.
The whole thing was nothing short of absurd.
The call ended abruptly, just as she’d expected.
She didn’t waste a moment before dialing another number. “Mr. Ivan, sorry to bother you so late. I want to speed up the divorce proceedings–can we move the
paperwork along any faster?”
