Chapter 3

Celeste

Portland Tech Park was already buzzing this morning—young programmers rushing by with coffee cups, discussing their latest project developments.

I walked into Kieran's company building, everything looked normal, as if my world hadn't completely collapsed yesterday.

"Celeste!"

My colleague Riley's voice called from behind. I turned to see her jogging to catch up, practically bouncing with excitement.

"You're looking good today," she leaned in, lowering her voice. "I heard there's gonna be a big announcement at today's meeting. When you get that promotion, don't forget to treat us to dinner!"

I forced a smile. "We'll see."

"No way!" Riley's eyes sparkled. "You're the most qualified person in this whole department. Everyone's seen your performance numbers. That Assistant Director job is totally yours."

She spoke with such certainty, as if the position was already mine. But hearing those words now only made my heart ache more.

If I still had a future, this promotion would be worth celebrating. Three years of hard work, countless late nights, pushing through despite Kieran's indifference—all my efforts had been for this moment. But now... what was the point?

"The meeting's about to start. We should head up," I said, avoiding her expectant gaze.

Riley didn't seem to notice anything off about me. The whole way up, she excitedly analyzed the company's structural changes and the impact my promotion might have.

I just listened silently, every step hurt more as the pain in my stomach got worse.

The conference room on the top floor was located in the southwest corner of the building. I chose a seat by the window, trying to ease my discomfort by admiring the view outside.

People started trickling in. Some nodded and smiled at me, others whispered among themselves. The room smelled like coffee and anticipation of good news.

At exactly nine, Kieran appeared at the conference room door.

He maintained his usual cold demeanor, his charcoal gray suit making him look even more serious. His eyes moved across the room, barely glancing at me—just as he had countless times over the years—as if I were invisible.

"Let's begin," his voice was deep and authoritative, instantly silencing the room.

I straightened my back, ready to hear my name called. Ready to accept this long-overdue recognition, even if it meant little to me now.

But Kieran's next words sent my world spinning again.

"Today I'm announcing an important personnel change," he paused, his gaze still not meeting mine. "The company has decided to appoint a new Assistant Director."

The conference room door opened at that moment.

A slender, elegant figure walked in, golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, her sweet smile as perfect as it had been eleven years ago when she first stepped into our home.

Delphine.

She wore a cream-colored suit, looking polished and professional she'd brought back from Boston. Her entrance froze the air in the conference room.

I heard Riley gasp beside me.

"Delphine has just returned from Boston," Kieran's voice remained calm, but I clearly saw his expression soften when he looked at her. "She'll be taking the Assistant Director position. She has extensive management experience in Boston and will bring fresh energy to our company."

An awkward silence fell over the conference room.

I felt everyone's eyes on me—sympathetic, shocked, confused. They all knew this position should have been mine. They knew how hard I'd worked for it.

But I just sat there quietly, watching Delphine stand beside Kieran, noting that subtle, self-satisfied smile on her face.

"I'm looking forward to working with all of you," Delphine said, her voice as sweet as that afternoon eleven years ago. "I hope to help our team take the company to new heights."

Eleven years. From thirteen to twenty-four, from a girl desperate for approval to a woman facing death, she was still taking what should have been mine.

I remembered my childhood—how easily she'd won Kieran's affection, how she'd brought smiles back to Dad's face. Now, once again, she was standing in the place that should have been mine.

I was the first to start applauding.

The crisp sound of my clapping broke the silence. Others hesitated, then joined in. Though sparse, the applause at least dissolved the awkward atmosphere.

Delphine looked at me, surprise flashing in her eyes before she resumed her gentle expression.

The meeting ended quickly. As colleagues filed out, some patted my shoulder as they passed, saying nothing but conveying their sympathy and disapproval.

Riley approached me, indignant. "This is so unfair. You've worked here for years. How can they just bring in an outsider and—"

"It's fine, Riley," I cut her off. "It is what it is. Nothing we can do about it."

She wanted to say more but, seeing my expression, finally sighed and left.

Soon only Delphine and I remained in the conference room. Instead of leaving, she deliberately walked toward me.

"Celeste," her voice remained gentle, with a hint of concern. "I hope you don't mind... you know, the company needs fresh blood, different perspectives."

I looked up at her, this girl who had always stood in the sunlight. She was even more beautiful now, her mature demeanor making her appear more confident.

"Congratulations, Delphine," I said calmly. "You've always been exceptional."

A flash of smugness crossed her eyes, quickly masked by concern. "We were so close as kids. Can't we still be like sisters? I hope we can work well together."

Sisters? I laughed bitterly inside. Right. You just waltz in and take whatever you want, then act like it's no big deal.

"Of course," I stood up, straightening my clothes. "I'll fully support your work. After all, we're family."

I put extra emphasis on "family." Delphine's smile faltered for just a second before her smile returned.

"That's good. I'm sure we'll collaborate wonderfully."

I nodded, grabbed my bag, and prepared to leave. At the doorway, I glanced back at her.

She stood by the big window with the sunlight behind her, looking perfect as always. And there I was, still in the dark.

Leaving the conference room, I felt dizzy. I couldn't tell if it was the cancer or just the shock of what had just happened. I steadied myself against the wall and took a deep breath.

Six months—I just wanted some peace and quiet for whatever time I had left. But apparently, that was too much to ask.