CELESTE’S POV
I stormed out of the house, fury burning so hot inside me it felt like it would flay the skin off my bones.
It was an old, familiar kind of heat—one I used to wear like armor as a child when I didn’t get my way, except this wasn’t childish anymore. This was different.
This was bone-deep, grown-up rage—the kind that came from betrayal, from humiliation.
And unlike when I was a child, everyone didn’t immediately jump to do my bidding to appease me.
My heels clicked against the pavement like angry punctuation, echoing back at me in the cooling evening air.
The rhythm wasn’t just sound—it was the only thing tethering me to myself, reminding me that I still had power, still had presence.
I went out through the manor gates, down the street, and…
I didn’t even know where I thought I was going. My body moved before my mind did, powered by outrage, by a refusal to sit one more second at that table listening to them spew absolute fucking bullshit.
