Chapter 1

As soon as Celeste opened the door, she found her husband standing before her with a woman clinging to his side, her pregnant belly protruding prominently.

“Let us in first,” Darson said in an emotionless tone.

Celeste, her face a mask of cold detachment, stepped aside to let them enter. She watched with a composed demeanor as Darson helped the pregnant woman settle onto the living room sofa.

“Thank you, Daddy,” the woman said softly, a delicate smile playing on her lips.

Celeste’s eyes narrowed slightly at the term of endearment. Her expression remained stoic, but her heart clenched painfully. She remained silent, her breaths shallow as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“Darson, who is this woman?” she finally inquired, her voice steady but laced with an underlying strain.

Married to Darson for five years, Celeste had always devoted herself to him, believing their bond unbreakable. But now, the reality of their strained relationship hit her like a cold wave. Her heart felt heavy, but she concealed her turmoil behind a veneer of dignity.

Darson’s gaze was as cold as hers, his response delivered with an air of finality. "Starting today, Chiarra will be living in the mansion. You’ll take care of her. She’s carrying my child. Make sure not to cause her or the baby any harm."

The words hit her like a blow, but Celeste remained unmoved. She had learned long ago how to suppress the sharp pangs of betrayal and swallow the bitterness without letting it show.

"Do you want me to treat your mistress well? And your child with her?" she asked, her tone devoid of the outrage that simmered beneath the surface.

Darson’s irritation flared, but Celeste didn’t care. His anger was nothing compared to the icy resolve that had taken root in her heart. "Why? Can you give me a child? An heir? Maybe you’ve forgotten that you’re lucky I haven’t left you, even though you’re infertile, Celeste. Even when Mom insisted on divorcing you, I didn’t push it! So I don’t want to hear a word from you about this. Chiarra is carrying my child, and she will live here whether you like it or not!"

Her knees felt weak, but she forced herself to remain standing, her dignity intact. She had lost so much already—her home, her family, her sense of security. She had nothing left but her pride, and she would cling to that fiercely, even in the face of this humiliation.

She watched as Darson turned his attention back to Chiarra, his voice softening in a way that was foreign to her now. "Chiarra, I’ll tell the maids to prepare your room, okay? Wait for me here."

"Thank you, Daddy."

That word again. Daddy. It reverberated in Celeste’s mind, grating against her nerves, but still, she remained composed.

Chiarra turned to her, a pitiful expression on her face as Darson left the room. "Sis?" The word was a mockery, but Celeste’s face remained impassive.

Her heart beat heavily, the only sign of the storm raging within her. Should she confront her? Hurt her? Drag her out? But she was paralyzed by an overwhelming numbness, a coldness that seeped into her very bones.

She said nothing, simply stared at Chiarra with an expression that could have been mistaken for indifference.

Seeing that the legal wife of Darson didn’t react the way she expected, Chiarra was disappointed and looked at her timidly. "I’m sorry, sis. Because of me, you and Daddy are fighting.”

"Daddy?" Celeste repeated, her voice devoid of the bitterness that twisted her heart.

"Oh!” Chiarra’s face flushed with embarrassment, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "I call him that because he will be the father of our child... I hope you won’t be mad."

"Mad?" Celeste’s nails dug into her palms, the only outward sign of her turmoil. Her muscles tensed, but she did nothing. Said nothing.

Chiarra continued with her sweetest smile, mocking the woman in front of her. "He said you will take care of me and our baby. He said you’re kind and patient, so I hope you won’t be angry with Darson and me, sis. I’ve been pregnant for four months now, so I’m asking you not to do anything bad to me, sis."

Celeste’s gaze hardened, but her voice remained calm and icy. "Don’t call me sis. A diamond in the rough cannot be related to a piece of coal."

Chiarra was stunned for a second, but her reaction turned into a scowl. "But you’re older than me, aren't you? You’re almost thirty, while I’m only twenty. And besides... we’ll both be Darson’s wives. Why don’t we consider ourselves as sisters?"

"Who said you’re also his wife? You’re just a mistress.” Celeste scoffed. “Where on earth did my husband pick you up? Just by your appearance and the way you dress, it’s obvious you didn’t even come from a decent family."

Chiarra’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she hugged her belly protectively. "I just wanted us to be close. Why do you speak of me that way? I-I’m not a prostitute... that’s not true!"

Celeste’s expression didn’t change, but her mind raced. She hadn’t called her that, but the girl’s reaction was telling. Before she could process her thoughts, Chiarra threw herself to the ground, collapsing with a loud thud.

Celeste’s eyes widened, a flicker of confusion breaking through her composed exterior. She watched as Chiarra writhed on the floor, clutching her belly and crying out in pain.

"W-Why did you push me?!" Chiarra’s accusation rang out, her gaze fixed on Celeste with a mix of fear and blame.

"I didn’t push you—" Celeste’s voice was calm and measured, but the situation was spiraling out of control.

"My baby!! It hurts!" Chiarra’s cries grew louder and more desperate.

Celeste reached out, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to help Chiarra up. But the damage was done.

"CELESTE!!" Darson’s voice boomed through the mansion, filled with fury. “What did you just do to her?!”

Celeste didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She stood there, her expression cold and composed, even as Darson slapped her across the face.

Her head snapped to the side. Her body was stiff with the effort to hold herself together. The pain was sharp, both physical and emotional, but she refused to let it break her.

“You really!!”

“D-Darson! Help me!” Chiarra cried out.

Darson scooped Chiarra into his arms, his concern for her palpable, and carried her away.

"Go call Doctor Sean! Chiarra is in pain!" His voice was filled with urgency.

Celeste stood there, alone in the vast, empty room, her cheek throbbing, her heart aching. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of them.

Finally, when she was sure they were gone, Celeste sank to the floor, her legs giving way beneath her. The tears came then, silent and hot, streaming down her face as she hugged herself tightly, trying to hold together the shattered pieces of her heart.

But even in her despair, one thought remained, burning with cold fury: she would survive this. She would endure. And one day, she would have her revenge. This was the only reason why she chose to stay in this hellish life with her husband.

—-

“Madam, please eat! You haven't eaten since yesterday. You'll get sick."

The room was silent except for the soft rustle of the curtains and the distant hum of the air conditioner. Celeste lay motionless on the bed, her face turned away, her breathing steady and quiet. Anna, her loyal maid, stood beside her, a tray of untouched food in hand. The pillows were dry, the bed immaculate, as if no tears had ever been shed there.

But Anna knew better. She knew the depth of pain that lay hidden beneath Celeste's calm exterior, the agony she masked with a dignified silence.

“Madam, even just soup will do, as long as you have something in your stomach."

Celeste's response was a barely perceptible shake of her head. There was no anger, no outburst, just a quiet refusal. Her hands rested on her lap, fingers intertwined, as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

"I said I don't want to." Her voice was steady, cold, each word carefully measured. She didn’t look at Anna, her gaze fixed on the wall. "Please leave."

Anna hesitated, her heart aching for her mistress. She had watched Celeste endure so much, had seen her stand tall even as everything around her crumbled. But now, she couldn’t bear to see her in this state, so composed yet so utterly broken.

"Madam," Anna’s voice trembled, but she pressed on. "Don’t let Sir trample on your role as his wife. It’s not right for you to just stay here, silent. You should confront them, show them who you are! What right does that mistress have to live in your mansion?"

Celeste’s grip on her fingers tightened, but she said nothing. She had heard Anna's words, but they felt distant, like echoes in a vast, empty space. The truth was, this was no longer her mansion. It was just a place where she stayed because she had nowhere else to go, no one else to call home.

The Allegra family had taken everything from her—their wealth, their influence, and most painfully, her sense of belonging. Her parents were gone, their business ruined, and her brother lost to the world. All that was left was this cold, empty house and the man who no longer loved her.

"Madam. You’ve been a good wife to Sir! You’ve done everything, but he’s the one who’s not content!" Anna’s voice cracked with emotion, but Celeste remained unmoved, her gaze still fixed on the wall.

"It doesn’t matter, Anna." Celeste’s voice was soft, almost detached.

Anna wanted to shake her, to force her to feel something, anything, other than this cold resignation. But she knew it was useless. Celeste had become like ice—cold, brittle, and heartbreakingly fragile.

"Madam," Anna whispered, her voice choking with tears. "You’re worth more than this. You don’t have to endure this pain. You can fight back, you can beat off your husband's mistress and claim your—"

But Celeste cut her off, her tone still composed, indifferent. "Darson is nothing to fight for, Anna. My life is... my revenge, it’s all that keeps me going."

Anna’s tears fell silently as she watched Celeste, sitting there with such cold dignity, yet so utterly pitiful in her isolation. How could someone so elegant, so composed, be so heartbreakingly alone?

“Now leave.”

Anna could only nod, her heart breaking for the woman before her.

As Celeste lay back down, her eyes closed, Anna quietly left the room, her tears falling freely now. She couldn’t help but think of the girl Celeste had once been—so full of life, of love, of hope. And now, that girl was gone, replaced by this cold, empty shell, surviving only because she had no other choice.