Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 222

Celestine lounged back against the couch, her fox-like eyes half-closed as she sized up the newcomer.

In the dim light, Zeke’s face looked thunderous—like some vengeful spirit clawed up from hell.

She took her gaze off him, ignoring his words, and calmly took another sip of her drink.

Zeke stepped out from the shadows, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage.

“You stirred up a storm in Portside City—made such a scene that everyone’s been worried sick about you. Are you satisfied now?”

Celestine finished her drink in one measured swallow. “Very satisfied.”

“Celestine, have you no shame?” Zeke spat, barely restraining himself.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s wrong, Mr. Sterling? Are you mourning for me or weeping at my funeral? You’re so worked up, I’d almost think you were my son, all grown up and throwing a tantrum.”

Zeke seethed. “How can you be so cruel? Why can’t you just let Chester go? Why do you have to steal your best friend’s man?”

Celestine’s smile faded, her tone turning airy as she swirled her glass. “Best friend? Where did you pick up that rumor, Mr. Sterling? You’re really stretching the meaning of the word.”

She’d known Joanna since they were kids—push it far enough and you could say they’d been friends since elementary school.

Back then, maybe the word “best friends” could be used, if you squinted.

But after middle school, Joanna’s family business went under, and she’d transferred to another city with her parents.

When they met again in high school, Celestine had naively thought things would be just like before.

But Joanna, quietly and not-so-quietly, had started competing with her. About everything. Over everything. Always trying to outshine her, always taking what she wanted.

A knife wrapped in velvet is always the sharpest.

Zeke glared at her in cold silence.

“You ask why I won’t let Chester go? I think you’ve got your subject and object confused. If he truly loved Joanna, do you really think he’d let her carry the label of ‘the other woman’?”

“Going after a woman? That’s a new low,” Lance Blake said, frowning as he caught Zeke’s fist.

Zeke let out a bitter laugh. “Perfect! Just perfect! Now everyone’s lining up to play hero for this woman. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

He shoved Lance aside and stormed out in a fury.

A flash of anger crossed Lance’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Turning back, he found Celestine sitting calmly on the sofa, perfectly composed, not a hint of drunkenness about her.

“You provoked him on purpose. Were you hoping he’d actually hit you?”

Celestine’s lips curled faintly. “Mr. Blake, I’m not that much of a masochist.”

Tonight, Lance wore a crisp white tracksuit—youthful, casual, and energetic. It was a sharp contrast to his usual polished, aristocratic style.

But he didn’t look convinced. “Zeke’s the kind of guy who lets his temper do the thinking. He’s capable of things you can’t control. You really pushed him tonight—and there’s no going back. You got lucky in Portside City, but if he sets his sights on you, luck won’t save you.”