Chapter2
Celestia's POV
I accepted this truth, left my room, and came downstairs to the living room.
It was chaos. Caterers rushing back and forth. White tablecloths being smoothed over tables. Crystal glasses lined up in perfect rows.
Maxwell appeared from the dining room, saw me, and his face twisted with irritation.
"What are you doing here?"
"I need to get my documents."
"Not now." He cut me off. "The chef called in sick. Get to the kitchen and finish the desserts."
I stared at him. In my last life, I'd been at the library during this dinner party. I never knew what happened here.
"I have something important to do."
"I said get to the kitchen!" His voice rose. "Mr. Harrison is my most important client. Don't ruin this for me."
Mr. Harrison. The name hit me like ice water.
In my last life, I'd learned too late that Harrison was connected to a major investment firm. And something had gone very wrong at this dinner.
I looked at Maxwell's face. Veins bulging at his temple.
Fine. Let me see what happens.
"Okay," I said quietly.
The kitchen was a mess of half-finished desserts. Fruit tarts. Chocolate mousse. Small pastries.
I washed my hands and got to work. My hands moved automatically while my mind raced.
Something bad happened at this dinner. Something that damaged Maxwell's reputation.
But what?
At seven, I carried the finished dessert tray into the dining room.
Eight guests sat around the table. Maxwell at the head. Isabelle to his right in a pale blue dress. Ethan across from her.
And there, in the seat of honor, was Harrison. Mid-forties. Expensive suit. Sharp eyes.
I set the tray on the table and turned to leave.
"Wait." Harrison's voice stopped me. "You made these?"
I turned back. "Yes, sir."
"They look excellent. What's your name?"
"Celestia."
Harrison reached for a fruit tart. Bit into it.
Thirty seconds later, his face flushed red. He started coughing. His hand went to his throat.
Red welts bloomed across his neck.
"Harrison?" His assistant jumped up. "What's wrong?"
Harrison couldn't answer. His breathing came in wheezes. His face was turning purple.
The room erupted into chaos.
"Call 911!"
"What's happening?"
I stood frozen, watching Harrison collapse in his chair, gasping for air.
No. This can't be happening.
Isabelle's voice cut through the panic. "The desserts! Celestia made them!"
All eyes turned to me.
Maxwell's face went white, then red. "What did you put in them?"
"Nothing! Just normal ingredients."
"Liar!" He grabbed my arm. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!"
Ethan was already on his phone. "I'm calling the police. She poisoned him."
Poisoned.
The word hit me like a fist.
"I didn't poison anyone!" My voice cracked. "I just made desserts!"
Isabelle's eyes were wide, filled with tears. "Oh God, Celestia, what did you do? I saw you last week buying all those strange chemicals online."
"Those were for..." I stopped.
For making pharmaceuticals. For my Elixir work on the darknet.
I couldn't explain the truth.
"For what?" Maxwell shook me. "What were they for?"
"A school project," I whispered.
"You're lying!" Isabelle sobbed. "You've been acting so strange lately. So angry."
The guests were staring at me like I was a monster.
Harrison's assistant was doing CPR. "He's not breathing right. Someone get his EpiPen!"
"EpiPen?" I grabbed onto that. "Does he have allergies?"
"Severe peanut allergy!" the assistant shouted.
Peanut.
My mind raced back to the kitchen. The chocolate. Store-bought. I hadn't checked the ingredients.
"It's the chocolate," I said. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"You didn't know?" Maxwell's hand came up and cracked across my face.
My head snapped sideways. Blood flooded my mouth.
The room went silent except for Harrison's labored breathing.
"You almost killed him!" Maxwell's spit hit my face. "Do you understand? You could have killed my most important client!"
My cheek burned. My ears rang.
He hit me. In front of everyone. And no one said a word.
Not one person. They all think I deserve it.
"I have antihistamines," I said. "In my bag. They might help until the ambulance arrives."
"Don't touch him!" Ethan blocked me. "You always make things worse!"
"But I can help."
"Help?" Isabelle's voice trembled. "You poisoned him. What kind of monster are you?"
The guests were pulling out phones. Taking photos. Recording.
This will be everywhere by tomorrow.
My chest felt like it was collapsing.
They think I did this on purpose. They think I'm a murderer.
The assistant found Harrison's EpiPen. Administered it. Harrison's breathing eased slightly.
Sirens wailed outside.
Paramedics rushed in. Loaded Harrison onto a stretcher.
And then it was just us. Maxwell. Isabelle. Ethan. And me.
Maxwell grabbed my shoulders. Shook me hard enough that my teeth clacked together.
"What is wrong with you? After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"
"I didn't know about the allergy."
"Shut up!" He shoved me back. I hit the wall. "Isabelle warned me you were becoming unstable. I should have listened."
Isabelle wiped her eyes. "Dad, please. I'm sure Celestia didn't mean to. Maybe she just made a mistake."
She's still playing the saint. And everyone trusts her but hates me.
"A mistake?" Ethan laughed. "She's been acting secretive. And now this? This was deliberate."
"No." The word came out sharp with anger.
"Yes." Maxwell's voice was cold. "I'm lucky I don't have a daughter like you."
Something inside me snapped.
I spent nineteen years trying to become the perfect daughter. But he never acknowledged me. Only loved her.
Heat flooded my chest. Pure rage.
My voice came out steady. Cold. "Fine. But let me make this clear first."
I looked at Maxwell.
"From this moment on, I have no father."
Maxwell's face went red. "You don't get to decide anything."
"I'm done." I cut him off. "Done pretending this is a family. Done pretending you ever loved me."
I turned to Isabelle. "You win. You wanted this house? It's yours. You wanted Dad? He's yours."
Her face went pale.
I looked at Ethan. "And you. You were supposed to be my brother. But you never once stood up for me. Not once."
"Celestia." He reached for me.
I stepped back. "Don't touch me."
I walked to the mantel. The family photo sat there in its silver frame. Maxwell. Isabelle. Ethan. And me, squeezed into the corner like an afterthought.
I pulled out the photo and tore my part away.
The sound of ripping paper filled the silent room.
"There. Now it's perfect. The family you always wanted. And I'm leaving now."
I walked to the door.
Maxwell's voice stopped me. "If you walk out that door, you're no longer my daughter. Do you understand? You'll have nothing."
I looked back at him and laughed coldly. "I don't care."
I opened the door. Cold December air hit my face.
The door slammed behind me.
I stood on the front step, breathing hard. My cheek still throbbed.
But I felt lighter than I had in years.
I pulled out my phone. Checked my banking app.
Fifty million dollars. Built from my darknet work over the past six years since I woke up reborn.
Safe. Untouchable. Mine.
Behind me, the Whitmore house blazed with light.
A lie.
I turned my back on it and started walking.
The December night was cold, but I didn't feel it.
I had money. Skills. Knowledge of the next six years.
And I had nothing left to lose.
This time, I wasn't coming back.
