Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 2

Celestine's voice softened. "It's been a long time since we last spoke. Tonight—"

"Chester—" Before she could finish, a sweet, lilting female voice chimed in from the other end of the line.

It was Joanna.

A moment later, the video call cut out.

Before it did, Chester offered only four flat words: "We'll talk when you're home."

Celestine's grip tightened around her phone.

She stood at her window, staring out at Portside City's glittering skyline. Streams of headlights wove through the streets below, all that shimmer and bustle painting a dazzling tapestry across the night. It was a city that never slept—a city her husband, Chester, ruled like his own private empire, his fortune stretching into the billions.

He had influence over everything and everyone in Portside City—except, it seemed, his own wife.

For six years, Chester had been cold and distant with her, his patience always running on empty. Even when his gaze seemed gentle, the warmth was only a mask for indifference.

For years, Celestine had tried everything to win back his heart. She'd bent and twisted herself into someone he might love, always hoping for a sliver of affection.

But tonight, for the first time, she felt tired—so very tired—of trying.

She didn't call him again. Instead, she drifted into a heavy, restless sleep.

Morning light brought Chester's belated message: "Sorry. Happy anniversary."

The line that followed: "This is to make up for it."

Moments later, a notification flashed—a transfer, eight figures long, deposited straight into her bank account.

She scrolled past it without a second glance.

Right then, Joanna's social media update popped up on her phone.

"Custom made in Paris—eight months in the making. One-of-a-kind diamond ring, thank you Chester."

Joanna smiled up at the camera, radiant and triumphant, the diamond ring flashing on her pale, delicate hand. Beneath the shadow of a tower, she twirled in a rose-red dress, the scene decadent and dazzling.

He'd spared no expense.

Celestine's mind drifted back to the day before their marriage.

The old house had been hushed and somber. Chester had crossed the hallway, his eyes calm and inscrutable—yet in that moment, it felt as if he could see straight through all her secret longings.

She didn't even remember how she made it back upstairs. The children had their private lessons, and the nanny whisked them away.

Even so, Celestine made herself reach out to Chester again. She was Mrs. Fordham, after all. She deserved answers—about the children, about Joanna.

But her message was brushed aside with a curt "Something important's come up. Let's talk tomorrow night."

Celestine couldn't even summon the words for her bitterness.

She left the house and wandered, almost by instinct, to the church where she'd first met Chester.

The Portside City church was small and unassuming.

As she stepped inside, her daughter's innocent voice drifted through the stillness, echoing off the stone.

"Miss Joanna, does it really work?"

"Of course it does."

Celestine looked up.

Not far away, Joanna and Chester each held one of the children by the hand. The four of them knelt together at the altar, the picture of a happy family—one she'd never truly belonged to.