Chester’s face turned pale, cold eyes fixed on Celestine. “Is apologizing really that hard for you? Celestine met his stare, unwavering. “So, what exactly am I supposed to apologize for? For loving our children too much–or for not bursting in to stop you when you brought Miss Sinclair into our bedroom and dressed her in my nightgown?”
Disappointment clouded Chester’s gaze. “Why do you always have to be so combative?”
A sad, knowing smile tugged at Celestine’s lips.
Combative.
So that’s how he saw her now.
If she’d been the one with the allergic reaction today, would Chester have even bothered to check on her?
Of course not.
The only reason her arguments never mattered was that she was never the one he wanted to protect.
She was exhausted–utterly and completely.
Celestine lowered her eyes, pale lashes trembling.
“Chester, let’s get a divorce.”
Before the words had even settled, a shrill scream tore through the corridor.
A woman in a hospital gown–hair wild, eyes manic–charged at them, clutching a fruit knife.
“You filthy cheaters! If I’m going to die, I’m dragging you all to hell with me! You’re all going to die! Die with me!”
She lunged, knife raised, slashing at the crowd.
The corridor erupted into chaos–patients and families screamed, scrambling to get away.
Joanna’s face went white with terror. “Chester!”
Chester instinctively pulled her and the two children behind him, shielding them.
In the chaos, someone shoved Celestine straight into the path of the deranged woman. She stumbled, hitting the ground with nowhere left to run.
“Chester!”
Desperate, Celestine cried out for help.
But all she saw was Chester, arms wrapped tight around his precious Miss Sinclair, shielding
Chapter 18
her from harm.
Tears welled in Celestine’s fox–like eyes, the corners red and raw.
When it came to making a choice–even with lives on the line–she was always the first one abandoned.
Chester’s heart clenched. He reached out instinctively. “Celestine!”
Raymond shouted, “Mom!”
Celia grabbed her father’s sleeve, sobbing, “Dad, don’t go! It’s dangerous!”
The crazed woman braced herself against the wall, laughing maniacally as she raised her knife
toward Celestine. “Hahaha! Go to hell!”
Celestine squeezed her eyes shut in despair.
A single, scalding tear slid down her cheek.
If there’s another life after this, she thought, I never want to be someone’s wife, someone’s
mother.
I just want to be myself.
Clang-
A smooth, smoky scent swept past her face. Suddenly, she was enveloped by a warmth that made her feel inexplicably safe.
The madwoman’s furious screams still echoed in her ears, and she could hear the tearing of fabric–but the pain she expected never came.
Celestine opened her eyes in confusion.
A tall, unfamiliar man stood between her and danger, bare hand gripping the blade.
His profile was striking–sharp features, eyes deep and unreadable. He stood a good six foot three, radiating an intimidating presence that was oddly softened by the gold–rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He wore a white dress shirt; blood bloomed at his cuff.
He seemed immune to pain, pinning the woman to the ground with a single hand.
Across the chaos, Cynthia–surrounded by bodyguards–cried out anxiously, “Uncle Gideon!”
Gideon Prescott glanced back, gray eyes behind his glasses glinting with a hint of a smile.
Celestine stared, stunned, but a wave of dizziness washed over her before she could say a word.
She collapsed against the man’s wounded arm.
Just before her consciousness faded, she sensed the shadowy figure watching her quietly. “Really now, fainting already? How ungrateful.”
2/3
Chapter 18
Seeing the two of them huddled together nearby, something ugly and restless twisted in Chester’s gut.
Didn’t she remember she was a married woman?
Raymond tugged at Chester’s sleeve. “Dad, I think Mom… she faints at the sight of blood.”
Chester’s frown eased. He turned and started down the hall.
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