She hadn’t expected to give the bracelet to Viola right after receiving it herself.
But this one lying on the floor was obviously a fake.
Philip suddenly turned to Celeste.
“Did you go through Viola’s jewelry box?”
Celeste stared at him, completely baffled.
Viola, meanwhile, was already in tears, her shoulders trembling.
“Celeste, you’re the one who helped me get into college, and you introduced me to Philip. I’m truly grateful to you. I’d share anything I have with you. If you wanted the bracelet, you could’ve just taken it. Why swap it for a fake?”
Anger flared in Celeste’s chest.
“So, Philip, you think I did it too?”
He patted Viola’s back gently, his voice low and heavy.
“That’s enough. Grandfather’s hungry. Bring out the food when it’s ready.”
It was obvious he believed Viola.
Celeste let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Fine. Call the police, then. That bracelet’s expensive enough for them to care.”
Philip’s face darkened further.
“Celeste, come here. Sit by your grandfather,” the old man spoke up, cutting through the tension before things could spiral further.
Celeste glanced at the frail old man and, despite herself, relented. She quietly walked over to help him into the dining room.
The staff quickly brought out the meal. Every dish Celeste had made was set before the old man.
“Celeste always knows what I like. You spoil this old man,” he chuckled, eyes brightening for the first time that evening.
The mood seemed to lighten–until Viola suddenly stood, wine glass in hand. “Grandpa, Auntie, I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault. Please, let me apologize.”
15.10
She raised the glass to her lips, but Phillp stopped her with a firm hand
“Did you forget what the doctor said? You can’t drink.
Viola gazed up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“But I feel so awful…”
Philip looked over at Celeste.
“Cece, have a drink in her place. Let’s put this behind us.”
He sounded every bit the future head of the Robertson family: commanding, unyielding, as if he expected obedience.
Celeste couldn’t help the cold, bitter smile that twisted her lips. She set down the serving fork she’d been using for the old man and replied coolly,
“My stomach’s acting up. I can’t drink.”
Philip’s expression froze. He suddenly remembered she’d told him about her stomach pain the night before–the doctor’s warnings he’d once taken so seriously now echoed in his mind, bringing a flicker of guilt to his eyes.
Viola, however, tossed back her glass of wine anyway. She finished it in one gulp, then collapsed into Philip’s arms, coughing and trembling. Instantly, his attention snapped back to her.
“I’m fine, Philip. As long as you’re not upset with me, I can bear anything.”
At once, Philip called for the staff to bring some herbal soup, his brow furrowed deeply with concern for Viola.
“Celeste, can’t you just go along with it? One small thing and you make a scene in front of the whole Robertson family. I’ve warned you before.”
He was exasperated. His father had forced him into this society marriage, but he’d always tried to protect Celeste, bearing all the pressure on his own. Why couldn’t she just be more understanding?
The words stabbed into Celeste’s heart like shards of glass, each one twisting deeper. Years ago, she’d risked everything–her whole future–for Philip, willing to give up her life for his.
And now all she got in return was “Just go along with it.”
Why should she always be the one to swallow her pride?
“Philip, I wasn’t the one sneaking around giving gifts and stirring up trouble. I wasn’t
the one who insisted on making a spectacle out of this–drinking to atone, dragging things out. Are you blind, or just deaf?”
Philip hadn’t expected Celeste to speak to him like that, not in front of his entire family. His handsome features turned thunderous.
“Tch!”
Mrs. Robertson’s sharp, dismissive noise sliced through the tension, snapping the last fragile thread of Philip’s composure.
All the shame and humiliation he’d felt when news of his illegitimacy first broke over him once more, cold and overwhelming.
