Chapter twenty one
The mansion was unusually quiet when Celeste padded out of Sebastian's room. Her hair, still in its perfectly imperfect waves, fell against the collar of her silk pajama top. The set was designer, loose-fitting yet matching just casual enough to suggest she didn't care, just polished enough to remind anyone watching that she always did.
But the bed was cold. Empty.
She had woken expecting him beside her, maybe even expecting a rare smile or a morning word, but the sheets only carried the ghost of his warmth.
"Sebastian?" she called softly down the corridor, more to hear the name echo against the high ceilings than out of any real expectation. Her slippers whispered over the marble floors as she wandered from one room to the next. Nothing.
A ripple of unease touched her. Did last night mean anything at all? For a fleeting moment, she had thought she had him, thought she had finally broken through that wall of indifference. He had given in or so she told herself. She clung to the memory, even as doubt slithered beneath it.
She caught sight of a maid arranging flowers at the end of the hall. Celeste stopped, her voice light but edged.
"Have you seen Sebastian this morning?"
The servant bowed. "Mr. Cross left for the company early, miss. Breakfast has been set in the dining hall."
Celeste's brows rose. "And… did he eat before leaving?"
"Yes, miss." Another bow. The maid stepped away quickly, leaving Celeste in silence.
For a second, irritation burned through her composure. He hadn't woken her, hadn't said goodbye. He had simply… left. But she smoothed it over with a practiced smile, pressing the sharpness down where no one could see.
She walked into the dining room, and there it was, the ritual of wealth spread out like an altar: polished silver, delicate china, and a parade of edibles laid out in neat abundance. Morning sunlight poured through the tall windows, gilding the edges of the room in soft brilliance.
Celeste lowered herself into one of the high-backed chairs, letting the silence soak into her. She sighed, set her phone on the table, and let her gaze linger over the perfection of it all.
This—this was what her mornings would look like, once everything fell into place. Once Sebastian finally saw what she already knew that she belonged here, not as a guest, not as a plaything, but as the mistress of the house. As his wife.
Her lips curved into a smile. She picked up her glass of orange juice and lifted it toward the sunlight, as if making a silent toast to the future that, in her mind, was already hers.
Just as Celeste lifted her fork, her phone began to trill across the table.
She froze, her frown sharp enough to cut glass.
"Who the hell is ruining my morning?" she muttered, snatching the phone.
The caller ID lit up. Sebastian's mom.
Celeste's face changed instantly, frown dissolved, lips curved into a sugary smile. She flung her hair back, adjusted her pajama collar, and tapped accept.
"Good morning, ma'am!" she sang, her tone drenched in charm.
"Oh, Celeste, darling, look at you," Sebastian's mother cooed through the screen, perfectly framed in her silk blouse and pearls. "You look radiant this morning."
"You flatter me," Celeste giggled, tilting her head just right to catch the morning light. "But you-- you look divine."
Warm pleasantries spilled between them like champagne. Two women, polished and vibrant, mirroring each other with hollow sweetness.
Then the question dropped:
"And Sebastian? Is he near you, my dear?"
Celeste pressed a hand against her chest with a coy sigh. "Already off to work."
"I see." The older woman's eyes softened knowingly. "I hope you're pulling him in closer, hm?"
Celeste's cheeks flushed, fingers twirling a strand of hair. A flicker from last night crossed her face, the hazy memory of Sebastian giving in to her advances. She let the silence answer for her.
Sebastian's mother smiled she understood. "That's very good. We'll need a daughter-in-law soon, and you, Celeste… you're a well-bred, well-trained young lady. You'd fit beautifully into this family."
Celeste lowered her gaze, blushing with practiced modesty. "Thank you. That means everything to me."
The older woman leaned closer. "Now, glam up. Go to his office today with lunch. Mark what's yours. A man like Sebastian needs to be reminded who he belongs to."
Celeste laughed lightly, feigning the future daughter-in-law role. "Of course. I'll take care of him."
They lingered a few more moments in polite affection before ending the call.
The screen went black.
Celeste's smile fell with it. Her face twisted, curling with disgust. "Telling me what to do? Like I'm some nanny with a tray?" she hissed under her breath.
The appetite left her body. The table of breakfast, once so alluring, now felt cloying. She pushed her chair back sharply and stood.
With long strides, she returned to Sebastian's room, her phone already in hand, nails clicking against the screen as she dialed. The line rang, then connected.
Her voice softened, slipping into a different register entirely. "Baby," she whispered, closing the door behind her.
The voice on the other end wasn't Sebastian's.
"Larry, baby, don't worry," she purred, sinking into the pillows. "I'll make it up to you, okay?"
Her laugh was low, indulgent. The perfect daughter-in-law vanished; in her place was the real Celeste schemer, pretender, liar.
---
Kairen stood stiff, gaze fixed on the wall while Sebastian's voice rolled smoothly over the phone.
"Hello, Ms. Jo. Bring me one of the spare cleaner uniforms we keep in storage." His tone was casual, businesslike, as if this request wasn't laced with venom. Then he hung up and lifted his eyes to Kairen.
"Sit."
Kairen moved toward the chair opposite the desk, but before he could lower himself, Sebastian's voice cracked like a whip.
"Not there. That chair is expensive. Sit your fag ass on the floor."
Kairen froze, heat flashing up his neck. For a split second, he almost narrowed his gaze almost let Sebastian see the contempt boiling under his skin. Instead, he smoothed his expression, lips pressing thin.
"It's fine," he muttered. "I'll just stand."
"I said sit."
The second command landed harder, no room for negotiation.
Kairen's body betrayed him. He crouched slowly, every movement stiff with humiliation, and lowered himself onto the polished floor. The cold marble seeped through his trousers, biting at his skin. He stared at the edge of the desk, jaw tight, wishing the ground would just split and swallow him whole.
The elevator chimed.
Kairen's pulse kicked.
A knock followed, polite, hesitant.
"It's open," Sebastian called, smooth again, as though nothing at all were happening.
The door swung wide. Ms. Jo shuffled in, her usual bounce faltering the instant her eyes landed on the scene. She froze mid-step, her mop tucked under one arm.
"Kai.." She started, horror twisting into dramatics. "Why the hell are you sitting on the..."
Kairen gave the smallest shake of his head, eyes flicking, pleading silently. Don't. Please.
She snapped her mouth shut, but her face spoke volumes: wide eyes, lips pursed, outrage barely contained. She looked from him to Sebastian, then back, her whole body buzzing with the urge to say something reckless.
Kairen straightened his spine on the floor, shoulders squared as if pretending the marble was a throne. His silence was his only shield, and Sebastian's smirk deepened at the sight of it.
Kairen's eyes trailed to Ms. Jo's hands. She was holding a bundle neatly folded but unmistakably stained, sealed in a transparent nylon. The kind of spare garments meant for cleaners who needed a change after scrubbing the guts of the company's marble floors. His brows knit in confusion. What in the world would Sebastian want with those?
Sebastian's voice cut the air, smooth but edged with command. "Drop the clothes. And leave. Unless you've got something important to say?"
Ms. Jo froze halfway between the door and the desk. Her lips pursed, one finger lifting as if she might offer some protest, some half-hearted shield for the boy crouched on the floor. But then she caught Sebastian's eyes sharp, gleaming, daring her to try. The finger hovered, faltered, and lowered.
"I like my job," she muttered finally, a bitter joke disguised as surrender.
Before she turned, she glanced at Kairen. Just once. A pitying look, soft and fleeting, the kind of look that said I see you, but I can't save you. Kairen caught it, held it in his chest, and lowered his gaze before Sebastian could notice.
"Good," Sebastian said, leaning back in his chair as if he were already bored. "Now go."
Ms. Jo placed the nylon-wrapped bundle on the corner of his desk, the sound of plastic against polished wood echoing far too loud in the silence. Then she slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.
And just like that, the room felt smaller again. The air tighter. The weight of Sebastian's presence pressing back down on Kairen, pinning him in place. The clothes remained between them like a threat waiting to be unwrapped...