Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 91

The closed door muffled the sounds of a child being scolded in the apartment across the hall.

With a rare moment of peace, Celestine glanced down at her phone.

After replying to a few work messages, a new friend request popped up.

It was from a woman whose profile picture featured a stubby-legged Munchkin kitten.

Celestine stared at the tiny feline for a few seconds, something about it nagging at her memory.

Switching from WhatsApp to Instagram, she scrolled through Mirabelle's profile.

Just as she suspected—Mirabelle had posted photos of her own kitten before.

Celestine guessed this was probably about that design consultant matter.

She accepted the request, and instantly received a quirky hello sticker.

Celestine: Miss Remington?

Mirabelle: Whoa, Miss Selwyn, you're good!

Mirabelle: [photo of a kitten sprawled on its back]

Celestine couldn't help but laugh.

Who would've thought that Mirabelle—the picture of composure in person—would be so playful online?

Mirabelle: By the way, I know you just got back and must be swamped. If you can't spare the time, it's honestly fine! I'm inviting you to consult because I really value your taste for the evening gowns. The company's already hired stylists and wardrobe people, so please, don't feel pressured.

With Mirabelle's message so considerate, Celestine found it hard to refuse.

The Magnolia Awards were coming up this weekend—barely three days away.

She'd go with Mirabelle to review the gowns tomorrow. That would check "design consultant" off her list, finally putting a neat end to their complicated, ambiguous "who's helping whom" relationship.

The next day, Celestine submitted the final sketch for the spring/summer New Classic collection.

"Crystal… is this because of me?"

Her situation had been all over the internet recently, and not in a good way. Investors weighed all sorts of factors.

Crystal paused, reading between the lines. "Don't overthink it. Nothing's final yet. I'll go over there myself in a bit."

"I'll come with you," Celestine said, grabbing her coat.

This time, Crystal didn't refuse. She knew Celestine's stubborn streak—if she didn't take her along, Celestine would just show up on her own. And if that happened, with no one to back her up, she could easily get the short end of the stick.

Mr. Slate valued his privacy. His company was tucked away in the quiet, low-traffic Westmarch Borough.

But after nearly two hours on the road, they arrived only to be told he wasn't there.

"Miss Lennox, our boss flew out to Portside City this morning for a ribbon-cutting," the receptionist explained politely, recognizing Crystal as the owner of Kismet Collective. Her demeanor was perfectly respectful, though she couldn't help glancing curiously at Celestine.

"That's a shame," Crystal replied with practiced warmth. "Would you mind letting him know we stopped by?"