Chapter10
Celestia's POV
Theodore's words detonated in the silence.
For three full seconds, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Then Isabelle laughed.
It came out shrill, almost hysterical. "No. No, that's impossible."
All eyes turned to her. She stood at the back of the crowd, phone clutched in white-knuckled hands. Her expression had shifted to something else entirely. Denial. Desperate, clawing denial.
Here it comes, I thought, watching her face cycle through emotions. The moment she realizes she can't talk her way out of this.
"She's lying," Isabelle said, her voice rising. "She's manipulating all of you. She probably hired some actor. She's a fraud."
Theodore didn't even blink. He simply looked at Dean Morrison. "Do you have a projector in here?"
"I, yes, in the equipment room."
A black Maybach pulled up outside the gymnasium entrance. The door opened, and Sebastian stepped out.
My brother moved through crowds the way sharks move through water. He reached me in three strides, his hands coming up to cup my face. "Did anyone touch you? Are you hurt?"
The gentleness in his voice made my throat tight. "I'm fine."
I'm not fine, I thought. But I will be.
"You're not fine," Sebastian said. "You were locked in a room by a mob." He turned to the crowd. "I got the call ten minutes ago. My sister was being attacked. I broke every traffic law getting here."
He pulled out his tablet, connected it to the projector Morrison had hastily wheeled out. Within seconds, the gymnasium wall lit up with an image.
A DNA test. Official letterhead from Massachusetts General Hospital.
Probability of Paternity: 99.99%
Theodore James Ashford, Father
Celestia Marie Ashford, Daughter
The crowd pressed closer. I heard the whispers start.
"That's MGH letterhead. You can't fake that."
"She really is an Ashford."
Isabelle's face had gone sickly green. "That's fake. She probably photoshopped it."
"Miss Whitmore," Theodore cut through her babbling. "Are you suggesting Massachusetts General Hospital participated in fraud?"
"I, no."
"Because that's a very serious accusation."
Isabelle's mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.
She's drowning, I thought, and felt absolutely nothing. Good.
Sebastian pulled up another image. An old photograph. A young woman holding a newborn baby.
"My wife," Theodore said quietly. "Holding our daughter. Three hours after she was born. Two weeks before Celestia was taken from the hospital. We never stopped looking. Until three days ago."
"But she can't be," Isabelle's voice broke. "She's nobody. She's just the girl my father took in out of charity. She's supposed to be beneath me."
The words hung in the air, ugly and revealing.
There it is, I thought. The truth she's been hiding behind fake smiles.
"Beneath you," I repeated softly. "Is that what you told yourself?"
Isabelle's chin came up. "You were. Just because you found some rich man to claim you doesn't change what you really are."
"What I really am is Theodore Ashford's daughter. What are you, Isabelle?"
Her face flushed red. "You were already down. I just made sure you stayed where you belonged."
"And where did I belong?" I asked. "Too afraid to exist without your permission?"
"Yes!" The word burst out. "You were supposed to worship me! Instead, you acted like you were my equal."
She actually believes this,* I thought, stunned. *She genuinely thinks I should have been grateful for abuse.
"So the problem was that I had the audacity to think I deserved basic human dignity."
"You didn't deserve anything! My father took you in when no one else wanted you!"
"He sold me," I said flatly.
The words dropped like stones.
Isabelle froze. "What?"
"Maxwell sold me. When I was still a child. Sold me to traffickers because you convinced him I was too much trouble. I spent time in Blackwood Atoll."
Say it, I told myself. Make them understand.
She had gone completely white. "Stop lying."
"I'm not lying. I have scars from that year. Would you like me to show everyone what your precious father did to me?"
"He didn't know."
"He took fifty thousand dollars in exchange for a child."
The gymnasium erupted in whispers.
Theodore spoke then, his voice colder than I'd ever heard. "My daughter was stolen from me fourteen years ago. Sold to your father, who treated her like an inconvenience. You think you deserve what she has? She survived fourteen years of abuse."
Each word landed like a physical blow.
"So no," Theodore continued. "You don't deserve anything."
Jason spoke up, his voice shaky. "Miss Ashford, we're so sorry."
"You would have done it anyway," I cut him off. "Because it was easier to believe her lies."
Emma stepped forward. "Isabelle, I think we need to leave."
"Don't you dare abandon me," Isabelle hissed.
"I'm done with you," Emma said coldly.
She walked away. Others followed. Within seconds, Isabelle was standing alone.
They're rats leaving a sinking ship,* I thought. Just like I knew they would be.
My phone buzzed. I felt a cold smile cross my face.
"Actually," I said, "your father just texted me. He's on his way here. To the Ashford estate. I invited him to discuss the situation."
Isabelle's eyes went wide. "You did what?"
"I thought he should meet my family. My real family."
"You can't," Isabelle whispered. "If he realizes..."
"That he threw away a connection to one of the most powerful families in Boston?" Sebastian finished. "Yeah, that's going to be difficult."
Isabelle's phone rang. Terror on her face.
"It's him," she whispered. "My father."
"Answer it," I suggested.
Her hand shook. "Daddy?"
Even from where I stood, I could hear Maxwell's furious voice.
"What the hell have you done? Morrison just called. She's saying Celestia is a goddamn Ashford!"
"I didn't know," Isabelle sobbed. "Daddy, I swear."
"You harassed Theodore Ashford's daughter? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"But she was supposed to be nobody."
"She was supposed to make us millions! If we'd been kind to her, we could have had a connection! Instead, you stupid, spoiled..."
The line went dead.
Isabelle stared at her phone. "He hung up on me."
"Yeah," I said softly. "That's what it feels like. Being abandoned."
She looked up at me, mascara running.
Theodore guided me and her toward the door. "We're left here."
As we walked out, I heard the whispers behind us.
"We locked a trafficking survivor in a room."
"Isabelle's life is over."
Good, I thought, and didn't feel guilty.
