Never Forgive, Never Forget (Chapters 11 to 20)

Chapter 11

Anyone born into old money could spot the traces of insecurity clinging to Viola, no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

No amount of flattery would help her case.

Mrs. Robertson didn’t like her, and there was no chance she’d ever accept Viola.

The arrival of Celeste shifted all of Mrs. Robertson’s ire to a new target.

“What a fool,” she sneered, her voice sharp and cold. “Can’t even keep your own man in check and you let some gold-digger waltz right in.”

Philip quickly stepped in front of Viola, shielding her with his body. His tone was icy, commanding respect.

“Viola isn’t some gold-digger. She’s my friend. Please, Aunt, watch your language.”

Celeste couldn’t help but recall the first time she’d visited the Robertson estate.

She hadn’t even made it to the front door before Philip pulled her aside, quietly begging her not to argue with his family, to just endure for the sake of their future.

It made sense-back then, he was just the newly acknowledged illegitimate son.

But now, he was the undisputed heir to the Robertson fortune.

He could finally protect the people he wanted to protect..

Viola clung timidly to Philip’s hand, her eyes wide with excitement and adoration, as if he were some kind of hero.

“Philip, I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

Philip felt a deep satisfaction at her words, but his gaze drifted almost unconsciously to Celeste.

All he saw was her delicate face, stubborn and indifferent.

He’d spoiled her terribly-she never knew when to back down, never learned to compromise.

If she was upset, she’d simply shut him out, her expression cold and distant.

She always had to get the last word, never mind whose house this was.

Did she really think she could always have her way here?

“Cece, stay with Viola for a bit, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

He gently pulled his hand from Viola’s grasp and headed upstairs to his study.

Mrs. Robertson reclined on the sofa with perfect poise, draped in elegance and wealth, but her arched brows betrayed a haughty disdain.

“Celeste, I really underestimated you. For the sake of marrying into this family, you certainly know how to eat your pride.”

Celeste had no interest in trading barbs with her.

“You’re exaggerating, Aunt. I’ll just go cook something for Grandpa.”

She rolled up her sleeves and slipped into the kitchen.

She figured a meal was the least she could do as a thank-you; after today, she’d have nothing more to do with the Robertsons.

Viola instinctively wanted to follow, but after a quick glance around, she stopped herself.

One day, she’d be the lady of this house-no way was she going to lower herself by hanging around the kitchen like the hired help.

Celeste was in the middle of sautéing her third dish when a deafening slap rang out from the living room, followed by Viola’s shrill, desperate scream.

She dashed out, spatula still in hand.

But someone else was faster-a figure flew down the stairs and scooped Viola’s limp body into his arms.

“Aunt, what are you doing?” Philip demanded, his voice tight with anger.

Philip’s father came down the stairs as well, steadying the old man as they descended. Both men looked grim.

Mrs. Robertson threw a gift box onto the floor, her voice trembling with rage.

“Philip, I may not be your birth mother, but I am your elder. If you bring friends to dinner, it’s only right that I welcome them. But what’s the meaning of giving me a fake gift? Are you mocking me–implying that I don’t deserve the Robertson name?”

Philip’s father had only married her for the sake of a business alliance.

There’d never been much affection between them.

Worse, she’d only given him a daughter, while his mistress had given birth to Philip.

Now Philip was the CEO of the Robertson Group-the one everyone looked to.

Behind closed doors, the other society wives whispered that it was only a matter of time before she lost her place as Mrs. Robertson.

So when Viola tried to palm off a counterfeit on her, how could she not be furious?

Viola, her cheek red and swollen, cowered in Philip’s arms, trembling with fear.

“Philip, I swear, I didn’t know. That was the gift you gave me-I picked the most expensive one. I would never… I didn’t know it was fake.”

She’d been thrilled just to be invited to the estate; she’d agonized over which piece of jewelry to bring, hoping to impress.

Celeste glanced at the shattered jade bracelet on the floor.

She’d seen it before, tucked away in Philip’s safe-a piece he’d bought at auction, along with a matching crown, saying it was for their wedding someday.

Chapter 12

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.”

She raised the glass to her lips, but Philip 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.

Chapter 13

“Philip, eat your dinner properly.”

The old man spoke again, then picked up a shrimp and placed it on Celeste’s plate.

Even with the patriarch’s presence keeping things in check, dinner still ended on a sour note.

When they left, Philip dropped Celeste off at the bus stop without a word and drove away, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust.

Celeste didn’t react much. She quietly returned to her hotel and never reached out to Philip again.

She threw herself into tying up loose ends, making sure she severed every connection she had in Silvercrest.

Now and then, she’d open the messages Viola sent her-updates packed with every detail of the past few days, no matter how trivial.

After feeling numb from heartbreak, Celeste found herself almost amused by it all. Viola, dancing desperately on the other end of the line, reminded her of a clown in a circus-frantic and pitiable.

Celeste never replied. She simply took screenshots and saved them, just in case she’d need them someday.

Monday arrived, as it always does. Her flight was booked for eleven thirty in the morning.

She got up early, packed her bags, and was about to head downstairs for breakfast when Philip unlocked the door with his spare room key.

He was sharply dressed in a suit, but his face was drawn and tense.

Instinctively, Celeste moved her suitcase behind her, a flicker of panic flashing through her chest.

She had almost never been apart from Philip.

She remembered once, after a fight, he’d gotten drunk and grabbed her hand, slurring that if she ever dared leave him, he’d drag her home and lock her up, never letting her see anyone again.

Back then, even twisted words like that felt sweet because she was in love.

But now, all that was left was resistance.

Philip stared at her for a long moment.

He’d been stewing for days, but Celeste hadn’t called, and the lack of control gnawed at him.

Seeing her quietly waiting in the room now, that tightness in his chest finally started to ease.

“Leave your luggage here. I’ll have Chase pick it up later. Come on, let’s go get our marriage license.”

Once, that was all she’d ever wanted. Now, it didn’t stir a single ripple inside her.

She adjusted her backpack and looked at the elegant hand he held out to her.

“Not yet. I want you to come somewhere with me first.”

Philip checked his watch, patience flickering for once.

“Alright, but don’t take too long. I’ve got a meeting at ten.”

How generous of him, squeezing in their marriage license between boardroom appointments.

The car soon pulled up in the old part of town.

On either side of the uneven cobblestone street, weathered row

houses stood in quiet rows.

Since the area had been revamped as a tourist attraction, they’d never come back.

“What made you want to come here all of a sudden?” Philip parked the car, his handsome brow furrowing slightly. That hollow, anxious feeling churned inside him again.

He instinctively took Celeste’s hand, gripping it tight in his palm as if that would steady him.

Celeste didn’t pull away. She raised her other hand and pointed into the distance, toward the park.

It used to be a basketball court, before it was torn down.

“In junior year, a guy from the neighboring school tried to ask me out. You were furious and challenged him to a three-on-three game. You won, but ended up hurting your leg. You were sobbing so hard, you made me promise to take care of you.”

“Then, after we got together in college, you dragged me out here in the middle of the night to set off fireworks and propose. I started school early-I was only seventeen then. You were so anxious to ‘lock it down’.”

“Celly, what’s going on with you?” Philip interrupted, snapping her out of her memories.

Celeste turned to look at him.

“The first time we fought about Viola was here, too. You left me alone on that half-demolished basketball court. I’m hopeless with directions. It took me over two hours to find my way home. My feet were bleeding by the time I got back.”

She’d never come back here after that.

Philip felt as if a giant hand had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart hard.

He pulled her into his arms.

“Celly, all of that’s in the past. I only looked after Viola because-“

Celeste gently pulled away.

“Come on, let’s see what the new park looks like. I heard they kept all those little diners we used to love. It’s been ages since we ate there-let’s try it out.”

Chapter 14

She pulled her hand away from his and walked on ahead, alone.

Philip forced down the surge of emotion and caught up to her. At this hour, there were no travelers around, but a few breakfast joints had opened for the locals.

A bucket of dirty dishwasher was dumped onto the street, oily flecks glinting in the morning light.

Philip wrinkled his nose and sidestepped it, instinctively reaching out. to draw Celeste to his side.

“It’s a special day, you know. Once we get our marriage certificate, I’ll take you out for lobster-why do we have to eat here?”

He’d brought her to every single spot on this street, more times than he could count.

Back then, he’d pedal his old bike, a fresh burger clamped between his teeth, weaving through the laughter and chatter of the neighborhood.

Philip had been nothing but the overlooked illegitimate son of Silvercrest’s wealthiest man. No connections, no money, no one who cared to notice him.

Nova International had changed all that, making him the undisputed heir of the Robertson family. He was now second only to the patriarch-everyone knew his name.

But somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten where he came from. And the promises he’d made to her.

“I just want to eat this today.”

Her sudden stubbornness caught Philip off guard.

He’d raised this girl for over a decade-she was spoiled and full of life, but her world always revolved around him.

When had that changed? He remembered that night at the old house: the Celeste he once knew would never have embarrassed him in front of the Robertson family. No one understood better what mattered to him.

Sitting on a rickety wooden bench, Celeste ordered two burgers and two sodas.

Philip took the fork she handed him, feeling a hollowness grow inside.

“Celly, I had Chase take Viola away this morning. From now on, it’ll just be us in that house, like before.”

In his world, she was always free to do as she pleased. She belonged to him, and nothing would ever change that.

It would never change. It couldn’t.

“Let’s eat, then we’ll head straight to city hall.”

Philip sounded impatient.

Celeste’s heart trembled painfully.

Like before? Really?

Suddenly, his phone rang, loud and abrupt.

He’d set that ringtone just for Viola. There’d been a time Viola called during an asthma attack, and Philip, phone on silent, missed it. He’d spent that night outside her hospital room, wracked with guilt, tearing at his hair.

That was the first time Celeste saw Philip truly care for another woman.

“Go ahead. Answer it,” she said, keeping her gaze on her food.

Philip stared at her pale face, nerves tight as the ringtone pierced the air. With a heavy sigh, he picked up.

“Viola, I can’t leave today. If you need anything, call Chase and let him-“

But it was Chase’s voice on the other end.

“Mr. Robertson, Miss Viola’s been working in the conservatory all morning, trying not to upset Miss Duncan. Her asthma got worse, but she refused to rest. She passed out and we’ve just rushed her to the ER. She wouldn’t let me call you, but her condition isn’t good.”

Philip’s expression darkened instantly.

“I’m on my way.”

He hung up and looked at Celeste, his eyes cooling.

“I’ll have the garden fixed just the way you want. Was it really worth making Viola suffer over something so trivial? We’ll get the license another day.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.

For the second time, in the very same place, he left Celeste standing alone.

On the very day he’d promised to marry her.

She watched his retreating figure, but felt strangely numb.

She used to wonder if she were sick; would Philip finally treat her the same as Viola?

But why should she have to?

The man who claimed to love her, who broke his vow again and again-he wasn’t worth it.

The steam from her burger stung her eyes, but she ate quietly, finished her meal, and walked the streets she wanted to walk. Then she went back to the hotel, picked up her suitcase, and headed straight for the airport.

Chapter 15

Two and a half hours later, she stepped out of Asterwynn Airport and climbed into the Duncan family’s car waiting at the curb.

That was when Philip finally texted her.

“Where are you? Why didn’t you come back to the hotel? City Hall’s still open-you should go straight there. I’ll be there soon.”

Celeste’s mouth curled into a cold, mocking smile.

Without hesitation, she blocked Philip on every platform-his number, his email, everything.

Philip waited a long time, but no reply came from Celeste.

His usually handsome brow furrowed in frustration.

She used to answer his texts in seconds.

Lately, though, her temper had gotten worse-more unpredictable.

He called her, but the call was met instantly by the robotic female voice telling him the number was unavailable. He paused, surprised. Celeste had blocked him before, but that was back when they were still in the throes of their relationship. Blocking each other, sulking, waiting to be coaxed-it had been a sort of misguided romance.

But now, with Viola still in a coma, Philip had no energy left for games.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and let it go. She’d come around in a couple of days-she always did.

Asterwynn. The Duncan Estate.

Herbert Duncan had gone all out for her return, hosting a lavish family dinner. No outsiders had been invited, but all the Duncan elders and senior relatives were there.

Amanda Lawrence stood at the front door herself, every inch the gracious hostess, her posture impeccable, her smile warm and maternal. There was no trace of the sharp-tongued woman Celeste remembered.

But it was this same woman who, before her mother’s funeral rites were even over, had pushed her into the pool and left her to shiver with fever for three days-so sick she nearly died.

“Cece, you’re finally home. After all these years, your father and I have missed you so much,” Amanda said, reaching for Celeste’s bag.

Celeste sidestepped her hand.

“Don’t call me Cece. We’re not that close,” she said flatly, walking right past Amanda and into the house.

Amanda’s smile froze.

Two steps behind her, Beverly Duncan sneered with open contempt.

“Wow, look at you. Just because you’re Miss Celeste now, you think you can act like royalty? What a joke.”

Celeste stopped as she passed Beverly, her gaze icy and unflinching.

She would never forget how this half-sister had jabbed a needle into her thigh over and over while she lay delirious with fever, nearly unconscious.

Crack!

Celeste’s hand shot out, slapping Beverly hard across the face.

The blow landed squarely. Beverly, too stunned to react, took it full force. Her perfectly made-up cheek turned red and swollen in seconds.

“You bitch! How dare you hit me!” Beverly shrieked, lunging at her like a madwoman.

Celeste didn’t even flinch. She raised her leg and kicked Beverly away.

When she had first escaped from Asterwynn to Silvercrest, she’d been so weak a gust of wind could knock her down. The only thing she’d had left was an iron will-she refused to bow or break, no matter what.

So when her aunt gave her bitter herbal tonics and harsh remedies, Celeste had taken them all without complaint. Anything that could make her stronger, she endured.

And now, it was finally paying off.

Amanda hurried to Beverly’s side, helping her up as Beverly howled and sobbed.

“Herbert, we tried to welcome her home-and this is how she treats us?” Amanda called out, her voice trembling with wounded innocence.

Chapter 16

A few of the family elders shook their heads in disapproval.

“Raised outside all these years, and look how wild she’s become. If you marry her off, she’ll only bring disgrace to the Duncan family.”

“Find someone to teach her some proper manners. Even the wildest spirit can be tamed if you break their will.”

“Herbert, the Hopkins family is the wealthiest in Asterwynn, controlling a fortune worth billions. The Duncan family’s future may hinge on this marriage. We don’t expect her to achieve anything remarkable, but she must not stir up trouble.”

Herbert Duncan’s face was stormy, his expression darkening by the second.

“Cece, enough of this nonsense! Come here and greet your elders.”

Celeste pulled her suitcase forward, her gaze steady as she strode past Herbert and swept it over the group of kindly-faced old men.

The Duncan family’s roots ran deep in Asterwynn. In centuries past, their ancestors had held high-ranking government posts–a source of immense pride. But what their descendants failed to inherit in glory, they more than made up for in outdated rules.

They prided themselves on being an old and noble house, but they’d always looked down on Celeste’s mother for being an orphan. They hadn’t even given her a wedding, yet it was her mother’s skill and hard work that had helped build the Duncan Group into what it was today.

Back when Herbert had brought Amanda and Beverly home to join the family, Celeste had gone to the elders, seeking their support. But they’d simply shrugged and said, with Herbert’s status, having several wives was nothing out of the ordinary.

Utterly shameless.

“If you all think I’m too wild and marrying me off to the Hopkins family will only embarrass you, then why not let Beverly take my place? You always said I’ve done nothing for the Duncan Group, and now you want to erase my mother from the family records as well? Fine. To show my filial devotion, I’ll report to the Duncan Group tomorrow!”

The elders’ beards quivered with indignation, at a loss for words.

Herbert’s face turned a sickly shade of green, but he struggled to keep his temper in check.

“Cece, what are you talking about? You’re my eldest daughter. How could I possibly let Beverly steal your engagement?”

Celeste let out a cold laugh.

“I may not come back to Asterwynn often, but I’m not so clueless that I’ve never heard of Mr. Alfred. You’re just afraid your precious Beverly will end up married to a man who can’t have children, condemned to a lonely marriage. Don’t bother playing the doting father in front of me.”

Herbert’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

The truth about Mr. Alfred’s health was impossible to hide, but there was something Celeste didn’t know. To ensure the Hopkins fortune wouldn’t leave the family, Derek-on his deathbed-had forced Mr. Alfred to sign a will. All his assets would one day go to his only nephew. In other words, whoever married Mr. Alfred would get nothing. No matter how handsome or charming he was, not a single woman was willing to marry him for love or money.

Herbert had planned to coax Celeste into this marriage, but now that she was openly challenging him, he didn’t bother pretending anymore.

“You and I are father and daughter; there’s no need for pleasantries,” he said coldly. “The Duncan Group has a project stuck in Mr. Alfred’s hands. Gather your things and go meet him.”

Celeste considered for a moment, then nodded. Before coming to Asterwynn, she’d done her homework; she knew just how important this project was to the Duncan Group.

“I have two conditions. First, once I secure the project, I want to be the one to oversee it.”

“And what makes you think you deserve that?” Beverly burst out, stamping her foot in frustration. This project was supposed to be her ticket into the Hopkins family. She had no desire to marry Mr. Alfred-she wanted Jasper Hopkins, the true heir.

Celeste glanced at her coolly. “Then why don’t you marry him?”

Beverly fell silent, unable to retort.

Herbert hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But the Duncan Group isn’t mine alone. If you mess this up, you’re never to mention working at the company again.”

Celeste didn’t answer directly. Instead, she lifted a finger and pointed upstairs.

“My second condition: clear out my old room. I’m moving in tonight.”

Beverly, already furious at losing both her job and her room, looked like she might explode.

“I don’t agree to this!”

Celeste couldn’t be bothered to argue. She let go of her suitcase, turned, and headed for the door.

“I’ll go get the marriage license with Mr. Alfred right now.”

Chapter 17

With a single sentence, the restless hum of conversation in the living room faded into silence.

The Hopkins Group’s headquarters dwarfed Nova International’s building, its soaring glass towers commanding the skyline.

At four in the afternoon, Celeste stood in the penthouse office, sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Seated at the expansive desk was her intended fiancé, Mr. Alfred Hopkins-the man whispered about in society circles, rumored to be impotent.

Unlike Philip, whose presence was cold and sharp-edged, Alfred radiated a gentleness so profound it seemed almost otherworldly. Bathed in sunlight, he appeared utterly unthreatening. His skin was porcelain pale, making his deep-set eyes seem even more striking. A straight nose and lips with a healthy flush gave life to features that might have otherwise seemed carved from marble.

Perhaps she was staring too intently.

Alfred lifted his gaze at last.

In that instant, the air of warmth and harmlessness around him shifted, as if a hidden door had slammed shut. An unspoken authority flickered in his eyes, leaving Celeste’s heart pounding. She realized then that what she’d taken for gentleness was, in fact, complete indifference.

“You’re not Beverly.”

His voice was low, magnetic-a sound that pulled her abruptly back to herself. She straightened her shoulders, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

“No, I’m Celeste. I’m here to marry you.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Alfred’s eyes. The woman standing before him-defiant, wild-slowly overlapped with the stubborn little girl from his memory fifteen years ago. Still fierce, no longer carefree.

He closed the folder in front of him. His voice now was deep, almost hypnotic. “A last-minute swap? Why should I agree?”

Celeste didn’t hesitate. “Because Beverly didn’t want you.”

At the door, Mack, who’d been about to knock and deliver a report, froze in disbelief.

Was the Duncan family out of their minds? Who dared speak to Mr. Alfred that way?

But Alfred seemed unbothered by the rumors swirling outside these walls. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“And you don’t mind?”

Celeste let out a crooked smile, answering with frank sincerity. “It’s an arrangement, isn’t it? We both get what we want-there’s no love involved. Why should I care?”

Love?

Alfred’s fingers curled slightly, betraying the only hint of unease.

Was it the man from Silvercrest she cared for? Was that why she seemed so joyless?

He studied Celeste for half a minute, obsidian eyes swirling with emotion, though his tone remained cool and detached. “Did you bring your documents?”

Celeste hadn’t expected that, on her first afternoon back in Asterwynn, she’d be standing in a city hall at closing time, marrying a man she’d only just met, a man carrying a secret illness.

Staring at the crimson marriage certificate in her hand, she felt strangely unmoored, as if the world had shifted around her. But in that moment, it was as if every last tie to Philip had been severed.

“Your contact information.”

Alfred’s clipped voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He stood beside her, backlit by the fading sun, his expression unreadable. Still, the gesture of handing her his phone was almost… courteous.

After exchanging numbers, Alfred’s first message arrived: a city map, with several locations circled in red. There was a luxury penthouse in the heart of the business district, a row of elegant townhouses on the suburban edge, and the tranquil Riverside Manor.

“Pick whichever you like.”

His voice was as even and indifferent as ever.

So, this really was a marriage without love-just business.

Celeste didn’t mind. She chose an apartment near Duncan Group for convenience, and then the quietest villa at Riverside Manor. Her mother’s ceramics would look perfect displayed there.

She was about to explain her choices to Alfred, but he was already on the phone, instructing his assistant to prepare both properties immediately.

The speed of it startled her, as did his utter lack of curiosity.

“You’re not going to ask why I picked both?”

He glanced over, one eyebrow slightly raised, eyes as calm as deep water, her reflection caught in their depths. “Didn’t you just say? This isn’t about romance. We both have our own needs.”

Celeste was momentarily lost for words.

Of course. She was the one who’d insisted on a marriage of convenience.

But years spent with Philip had left their mark-the ingrained habit of reporting her every move, all because he’d always said he’d hate not knowing where to find her. Whenever Philip messaged, she’d reply without thinking, telling him exactly where she was.

Chapter 18

Whether it was a company trade show or a quiet café tucked away for a private gathering, she always played the part of the perfect girlfriend. It was just a shame that Philip never seemed interested in where she went or what she did.

The thought tightened Celeste’s chest with a dull ache, yet her spirit felt strangely unburdened. Steeling herself, she gripped her phone and asked him, “Since this is a marriage of convenience, what exactly do you need from me?”

“Right now,” came the calm reply, “go take a look at the property you picked out and get comfortable being Mrs. Hopkins.”

Alfred stepped out and opened the car door for her, every bit the gentlemanly husband he was supposed to be.

The driver pressed the gas, heading straight for the apartment near Duncan Group. But Celeste had no desire to go. That place was just a strategic choice-somewhere she’d selected to keep Duncan Group within reach. It was never going to be home.

“Let’s go to Riverside Manor first,” she said quietly. “I need to have something sent there.”

She expected the driver to look to Alfred for instructions, but instead, he simply followed her directions, spinning the wheel and turning the car around without a word.

Strange. In her mind, Alfred should have been just like her father-unyielding, never letting go of even the smallest bit of control. Just like Philip, always needing to steer every decision, especially when it involved her.

Maybe Alfred noticed the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You’re my wife now, Celeste, not a trophy. Your decisions are as good as mine.”

Power. It was a right, a share of the spoils. And Alfred never seemed stingy about giving her what she was owed.

Yet, as they sat in the cramped car, there was a gulf between their arms–close, but never touching. Love, it seemed, was not in the cards.

Celeste found herself lost in thought, then suddenly realized that, maybe, marrying Alfred wasn’t so bad after all. The tension in her shoulders began to ease.

As the car turned down a sun-dappled, tree-lined road, she spoke up: “Don’t you think we should set some ground rules for this marriage?”

Alfred’s lips curled in a faint smile, but the temperature in the car seemed to drop.

“What are your terms?” he asked.

“The wedding should be three months from now.” She was less interested in planning a ceremony and more determined to get back to Duncan Group and reclaim what was hers.

“And until then, we live apart.” She needed time–time to herself, without Philip, without any man.

Alfred’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the armrest. Celeste was already his wife, yet perhaps her heart still held on to someone else.

He could refuse. But when he glanced at her, all he saw was that wounded, distant look in her eyes. The aftermath of heartbreak.

His expression darkened. “Fine. I rarely come home anyway. You can do whatever you want with either property.”

Then he handed her a card. “Use this for anything you need. Buy whatever you like.”

It was a black, gold-embossed card without spending limit. For a moment, it overlapped in her mind with the card Philip had given her years ago, after his first big windfall.

She blurted out, “Do all men like to do this?”

As soon as the words left her lips, Alfred dropped the card onto the seat between them.

Celeste snapped back to the present, realizing she might have overstepped. She quickly reached for the card. “I just… it reminded me of something, that’s all…”

Alfred’s voice was cool. “Sounds like my wife has known quite a few men before me.”

Chapter 19

At some point, Alfred had leaned in without her noticing. His chiseled features were suddenly close, his eyes reflecting nothing but Celeste’s own image.

A moment later, she felt his hand–strong, insistent-tilt her chin upward.

His fingers, long and defined, compelled her to meet his gaze.

She found herself looking up. Their eyes locked.

Alfred spoke, his lips barely moving.

“But now, you’re Mrs. Hopkins. It’s time to put the past behind you, don’t you think? Those old cards-you should take care of them, Mrs. Hopkins. All right?”

His voice, deep as a cello, was unexpectedly gentle, not the least bit angry.

Celeste’s lashes fluttered. She felt his hand fall away from her chin.

She picked up the card again.

So many sweet memories, now nothing but pain.

She heard herself say, “You don’t need to tell me. I’ll handle it.”

He nodded, his expression calm, hiding whatever storm might have passed through his eyes.

Of course. She still hadn’t forgotten that man.

Before long, the car slowed to a stop outside Riverside Manor.

The villa was understated but elegant, with a terrace that overlooked the river, and lush green hills on either side-a truly picturesque setting.

Waiting outside were a dozen large cardboard boxes.

It was the porcelain she’d had packed up and shipped over-her mother’s collection.

The house staff stepped forward, eager to help.

Celeste shook her head. “I’ll handle it myself.”

She’d already lost two pieces to Philip’s carelessness. With what little remained, she wasn’t about to risk another accident.

Porcelain was fragile, and she didn’t trust anyone else to handle it.

She pulled out her phone, about to call a professional moving service, worrying whether anyone would be willing to take a job all the way out here on such short notice. The temperature swings in the hills could crack the porcelain if she waited too long.

Beside her, Alfred had already shrugged off his jacket, now in a crisp white shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

“Free labor right here. Mrs. Hopkins, aren’t you going to make use of it?”

He could joke?

Celeste glanced at his strong forearms and pressed her lips together.

“Sure. Looks like a lot, but it’s mostly small things.”

She quickly set to work, unpacking the boxes herself.

Layer after layer of tissue and protective wrapping came out.

Without a word, Alfred took over, waving off the cluster of house staff and carrying each item into the designated room.

He was careful, steadying each piece with his fingers until it rested securely on the floor..

He probably had no idea what these things were, but he could tell they mattered to her.

From the doorway, Celeste watched him. She couldn’t help the softness in her gaze.,

Maybe Alfred wasn’t as cold as everyone said.

Once everything was in place, Celeste found herself thinking that if he could handle a marriage with such patience, surely he could handle business talks too.

Eager to get her footing back in Duncan Group, she mustered her courage and asked, “Would you like to sit down for a bit? Maybe we could discuss the Rivercrest Bay project?”

She’d already asked the staff to prepare some snacks and coffee.

But Alfred’s face turned cold.

First, she’d made him do manual labor, and now she was bringing up Duncan family business. Clearly, there wasn’t a shred of personal feeling toward him.

The air around them felt suddenly chilly.

Celeste hesitated mid-motion.

First, she’d set ground rules; now she was jumping straight to

business. It was a little heartless.

She didn’t care for Mr. Alfred, but he’d shown her respect, and she didn’t want to offend him.

“We can talk about the project later, if you’d prefer…”

“Go on.”

Chapter 20

Alfred parted his lips to speak, and the icy sharpness in his eyes faded in an instant. He gently brushed his cuff and waited silently for her answer.

It was as if the chill from before had only been a trick of Celeste’s imagination.

Still, since he was willing to listen, Celeste was more than happy to talk.

“Our family, the Duncans, have been in Asterwynn for three generations. We have a unique understanding of the culture and traditions here.”

“The Hopkins family is wealthy, and if you’re determined to turn all of Rivercrest Bay into a signature district for Asterwynn, then whether it’s unifying the style of the neighborhoods or blending the local culture, Duncan Group is sure to deliver a result everyone will be satisfied with…”

She might not be part of Duncan Group herself.

But she’d never forgotten how, back when the company was struggling, it was her mother’s ceramics that had laid the foundation-the only reason it survived to this day.

The company was her mother’s life’s work too. Celeste had always kept a close eye on it, and this project in particular-she was determined to win.

As Alfred listened, he noticed the dullness in her eyes slowly come to life.

Compared to a songbird kept in a gilded cage by another man, a free spirit was far more captivating.

He found himself smiling.

Celeste, still speaking eloquently, glanced up and caught Alfred’s almost tender smile.

Suddenly, a hazy memory surged up from the depths of her mind.

When she was a child, someone had looked at her with that same gentle, caring expression.

Her voice faltered to a halt.

Alfred seemed to snap out of it, his smile fading.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Have we… met before?”

Celeste frowned, her bright eyes searching Alfred’s face, desperate to find something familiar-to piece together, to remember the shadow of someone from her distant past.

No matter how hard she tried, though, the memories were like weathered photographs-dusty, faded, torn beyond recognition.

Her brows knit together in frustration.

After a moment, Alfred finally spoke.

“The Rivercrest Bay project. I’ll agree to it.”

Celeste’s head shot up..

He’d agreed before she’d even finished her pitch?

Or maybe Alfred hadn’t really listened at all-maybe he was simply going through with this because of their arranged marriage.

That seemed much more likely.

After all, that’s what these alliances were: exchanges of benefit.

Letting go of her little bout of nostalgia, Celeste took a step forward, her tone serious.

“Thank you for working with the Duncan Group on this project. In return, Mr. Hopkins, I owe you a favor. If you ever need anything, just ask.”

Alfred fell silent, his lips pressed together in a barely perceptible line.

She couldn’t recall their past-but she was sure to draw a line in the present.

A knock sounded at the door.

A housekeeper stood outside, Mack the assistant at his side.

Both Alfred and Celeste looked over.

Celeste spoke first. “If you have things to do, please don’t let me keep you. I can manage here on my own.”

It was their first meeting, after all-she didn’t want to take up more of his time than necessary.

To Alfred, the message was clear: he was being dismissed.

No point lingering.

“Alright.” He didn’t look back as he strode out with Mack.

Through the thin window, Celeste watched Alfred’s taillights disappear down the drive. She bent to unpack the boxes of ceramic pieces, but her attention was caught by something on the windowsill.

A neat row of delicate flowers, their leaves a fresh green, petals soft and new.

They were exactly the rare variety she’d always loved.

“Mr. Alfred’s staff are certainly thoughtful,” Celeste murmured.

Viola had ripped her flowers out by the roots, yet here was Alfred’s staff, carefully raising rare seedlings just for her.

The struggling scholarship students she’d once helped-none of them had ever shown such consideration.

She’d truly misjudged people in the past.

No longer in the mood to admire the flowers, Celeste turned away and began unwrapping her mother’s ceramics, arranging them one by one on the spotless shelves.

Suddenly, her phone rang-Herbert. His tone was far from friendly, but he sounded desperate for information.

“So, how far have you and Alfred gotten? Dinner? Met the parents? Or have you already signed the papers?”

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