Celeste's eyes opened slowly. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized it was finally morning. She had barely managed to bring herself to sleep few hours ago. Who would possibly sleep after what had happened. The memories were still fresh in her mind and she could still feel the ghost of his ghost.
How was she supposed to face him? Celeste wondered. It had only been her first night, and she had already been taken advantage of. Was this what it meant to have a madman as a husband?
Either way, she had no intention of staying any longer. She needed to find Mrs. Blackwell and remind her about the divorce papers. She didn't mind going to the office to get them herself, anything, as long as she didn't spend another night here.
The door suddenly burst open, revealing the housekeeper, Clarke, and an older man. His wide eyes locked onto her as if he'd seen a ghost, making Celeste uncomfortable.
Mr. Harlow had expected to see a lifeless body on the floor, with blood everywhere. Instead, he found a young woman—alive, staring back at him.
Cleaning up blood in the mansion was nothing new. Their master never hesitated when getting rid of the girls his aunt sent, and they kept sending more. When Harlow had heard about the new wife, he had already told the servants to prepare for the aftermath. They all knew how it usually ended.
But now it was morning... and she was still alive, looking back at them with confusion in her eyes.
Good morning, ma'am," Harlow said, quickly composing himself as he stared at their new mistress. Was this some kind of miracle? Why hadn't their master killed her yet?
From what he had heard, his master had almost choked her to death. Maybe she was just lucky, though he doubted that. One week should be enough. She was married to Aiden Blackwell, the infamous mad heir. No normal person would last a week with their master.
Celeste pulled the sheets tighter around herself as she stared at them. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She understood that look, they had placed her in the mad heir's room, and now they were surprised she was still alive.
Was Mrs Blackwell aware of this? What if she had died? Heat crept up her cheeks as memories of the night replayed in her mind.
"Anna, prepare the lady's bath and help her get ready for the day," Clarke ordered.
The butler cleared his throat. "I am Harlow, ma'am. The butler of the Blackwell estate." He said with a slight bow. "Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything. I am at your service."
No thanks, Celeste thought. She couldn't trust any of them. They had left her with the mad heir on her very first night, who knew what else they were capable of?
Not that it mattered. She wouldn't be here long enough to need their help. All she had to do was get ready and meet Mrs. Blackwell. She had promised to help with the divorce. The sooner it was settled, the better.
"Mrs. Blackwell has requested your presence at breakfast this morning," Harlow added. "She wishes to discuss your marriage with Master Aiden. Clarke will escort you to the main mansion once you're ready."
With that, he bowed again and took his leave.
Celeste said nothing as she watched the man leave.
Her gaze shifted to Clarke, who was now by the window, drawing the curtains open.
Should she confront them? Ask why they had tricked her into the mad heir's room?
But what would she say if they asked what he had done to her? And even if she spoke, they would likely brush it off with an apology, one she didn't want. They had nearly gotten her killed. An apology wouldn't change that.
The only person she could rely on was Mrs. Blackwell. She had invited her to breakfast, that had to mean something. Celeste had always heard how kind the mistress of the Blackwell estate was. For now, she had no choice but to trust her.
"Your bath is ready, madam," the younger maid, Anna, said with a bow, something Celeste found deeply uncomfortable.
"You can leave, Anna. I'll handle the rest," Clarke said."
Celeste climbed out of bed. Just before stepping into the bathroom, she paused and turned. "You can both leave. I can manage by myself," she said, watching the two women exchange a glance before looking back at her.
Seeing the hesitation on their faces, Celeste forced a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind her. She didn't want any conversation with the servants. She just needed to leave, and the last thing she wanted was anyone trying to convince her to stay.
Yes, she had survived two encounters with the mad heir, but she wasn't about to test her luck. She had mentioned the divorce papers to him, that was one step forward. Now, she just needed to get them signed and free herself from this mess.
After that, she would deal with her family. They had sheltered her, yes—but they had no right to give her away to a madman who could kill her.
She knew she had overstayed her welcome in their home. She had already planned to leave by the end of the year. She had saved enough from her job to rent a small place and take care of herself. If only they had waited a little longer.
Stepping out of the tub, she dried herself and walked out of the bathroom. Her eyes fell on a familiar bag resting on the bed. It was from home. It wasn't large, but a few clothes had been packed inside, enough to last a week. She changed into a yellow, flowery dress, fixed her hair and only stepped out once she was done.
Anna was waiting when she opened the door and she escorted her out of the penthouse. Mrs Clarke stood just outside, with a small wave of her hand, she dismissed Anna and took over, guiding Celeste towards the main mansion.
The Blackwells were a name Celeste had grown up hearing. Never had she imagined she would step into their home, let alone sit at their table. They were the richest family she knew. Even if Richard's fortune belonged to his son, his brother was wealthy as well. Marrying into their family had always been a distant dream, one never meant for her. If they had ever needed a wife for Michael, sane heir, her aunt Marianne would have gladly offered her precious daughter instead.
Celeste wasn't meant for good things. Only the scraps Marianne was sure her daughter wouldn't need.
Like Aiden.
A mad husband. A man who couldn't even access his own wealth.
The main mansion was grand, far beyond anything she had imagined. But then again, everything about the estate was. It could have been a dream... if her husband had been anything like her aunt described.
"Here is the dining room, ma'am . Our mistress is waiting," Mrs. Clarke said as they stopped before the polished double doors.
Celeste nodded and made her way inside. After breakfast, she would leave this house. Just like her aunt had always made her believe, a life of luxury like this was too good for her. It was something Lydia would love. She only had it because Aiden was mad.
"Celeste, dear," Margaret Blackwell called warmly, a sweet smile on her lips as she rose to her feet. She pulled out a chair beside her. "Come, child. Sit."
Celeste forced a smile, caught off guard by the warmth. She had never been treated like this before. It felt strange and unfamiliar. The only time her aunt was ever kind to her was when she wanted something.
"Did you sleep well? I told the servants to make sure you were comfortable," Margaret said as she sat down. "What would you like to eat?" She began serving food onto Celeste's plate. "Is this enough? What else, my child?"
"Mum, calm down. You'll suffocate her with questions," Michael said with a chuckle, watching his mother fuss.
Celeste's gaze swept across the table. Seated opposite was Aiden's cousin. Just like the rumors said, he was a handsome young man. Even dressed casually, he carried himself in a way that spoke of wealth. Everything here did, even the napkins felt more expensive than her.
Lydia would love it here. She had admired Michael Blackwell from afar for years. Though they were far above their league, Lydia had always believed she could marry into their family, and Celeste had never doubted her.
Lydia was ambitious. She went after what she wanted and didn't stop until she got it. She had a good job, and more importantly, she was beautiful. If her status wasn't enough, her beauty would be.
At the head of the table sat Charles, the brother of Richard Blackwell. He was dressed elegantly, his expression stern. When their eyes met, he gave a brief nod before clearing his throat.
"Welcome, Celeste. We're pleased to have you in our home. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything—we want you to feel comfortable here."
He studied her as he spoke. For someone from a middle-class family, she didn't look like one and from her cheap clothing, it was clear she was unwanted in the Dyers home. But that wasn't the issue. He didn't care if Celeste wore rags or tattered clothes. Right now, she was their only key to Aiden's fortune. In his eyes, she was no less than gold.
A little effort would be enough, dress her well, treat her kindly, make her feel like she belonged. Compared to the life she had before, this would feel like heaven. And that would make her easy to control.
That had always been the plan. Marry his nephew to some unwanted girl, let her gain access to his wealth, then take everything and discard both of them.
Simple.
The Dyers didn't seem like the type to cause trouble either. People like them stayed quiet when money was involved. That made Celeste the perfect candidate for the job.
"Eat child. You must be hungry. Clarke told me you didn't eat much yesterday," Margaret said gently, every bit the caring mother-in-law. "You can tell me your favorite dishes later, I'll have the cooks prepare them."
Her gaze lingered on Celeste's clothes, which were practically rags in her eyes. They looked worn out, like they had been worn for years.
"And we'll take you shopping too."
Celeste paused, the food halfway to her mouth. "Shopping?"
"Of course, dear. A quick trip to the mall, you'll need proper clothes. You are a newlywed... and a Blackwell now."
Celeste blinked, confusion settling in. This wasn't part of the plan. "But... aren't we supposed to go to court today. For the divorce papers?"