Clarke led Celeste to where Aiden was being held. It was an underground dungeon, so different from the polished beauty of the estate above. It looked cold, cruel. It felt less like a home and more like a prison. The moment Celeste stepped inside, her chest tightened.
In one of the cell-like rooms was Aiden, chained like an animal. His back was bare, his skin red and bloodied. The marks of the whip were still visible, along with old scars.
Just how much torture had he endured? Celeste wondered. Like everyone else, she had believed his family took him in out of care, that they stayed because they were all he had left. But that too was a lie.
A dull ache settled in her chest. In a way, they were the same. Marianne wasn't her blood, but even blood, it seemed, meant nothing when it came to cruelty.
Celeste took a step forward, about to make her presence known, when a voice made her halt.
"...harder! You're not hitting him hard enough!" Lydia hissed, glaring at the servants who weren't doing their jobs properly.
She came under the pretense of visiting her dear sister, which was only an excuse to see Charles's son. Instead, she had stumbled upon the mad heir being whipped like an animal. The reason being he tried to attack Celeste.
Though Lydia had heard about the mad heir countless times, she had never actually seen him. She had expected a shabby, wild-looking, disheveled man, but what stood before her was far from that.
The complete opposite.
His beauty was almost unnatural.
She didn't recall any of the rumors mentioning how handsome he was. He stood leagues above Michael, whom she had admired all her life.
And someone like this was Celeste's husband?
Envy surged within her.
He could have been hers... if only he wasn't mad. Her mother would have chosen her instead. He was the heir to a great fortune, the same fortune they were after. Even Micheal's family wasn't as rich as him. And Celeste had it all? The thought only made her anger burn hotter.
Why did Celeste have to be better than her?
Growing up, Celeste had been the prettier one. Boys noticed her first. Things came easily to her. Lydia hated it, she hated how Celeste had everything she wanted. Celeste was just an orphan. She had no right to outshine her in any way.
Clenching her fists, she barked, "Harder!"
If Celeste thought she could be better than her just because she had a man far above her league, then she would destroy that illusion. Mrs. Blackwell had stepped out and left her in charge. That was more than enough time to remind Celeste of her place.
"I said harder!" she snapped again, irritation sharpening her tone as the servants continued reluctantly.
Just as she was about to step forward and show them how to do it properly—
"Stop."
Celeste's voice cut through the room, firm and commanding.
The servants dropped the whips almost instantly, as if they had been waiting for someone to say the word. Everyone in the estate knew how important the heir was. Even Charles and his family. Though they punished him sometimes, they also knew their limits. Margaret would never allow them to go too far. So what exactly was this woman trying to do?
"W-we're sorry, Miss Celeste," they said, lowering their heads.
Lydia let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "What do you mean sorry?" There was irritation in her voice,something Celeste had missed until now."They were only following orders. Mrs. Blackwell said he should be disciplined."
She turned back to the guards. "Go on. Continue."
The men hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better. If they continued, they would be the ones punished next.
One of them stepped forward. "We can't, Miss. We've been ordered to obey Master's wife."
Lydia's expression hardened. Why were they speaking like that? Celeste was nothing.
"Will you take responsibility when Mrs Blackwell returns? She left me in charge, so—"
"And he is my husband." Celeste cut her off.
Silence followed Celeste's words.
Lydia's jaw clenched, but she quickly smoothed it over, turning back with a soft, practiced smile. "Yes he is. But I just don't want anyone getting into trouble. Mrs. Blackwell gave the order, after all."
The old Celeste would have believed anything Lydia said. But not anymore. Now, she knew better. Lydia was no different from her mother. Celeste wanted to laugh. They had tricked her into marrying a madman, and now she didn't even feel the need to explain, let alone offer a false apology.
It was clear to her now. Perhaps this was what she needed to finally realize she would never be loved in the Dyer home.
"I think he's been punished enough... unless you intend to kill him?"
Just a little more wouldn't hurt, Lydia thought before turning to Celeste like she'd said something horrible. "Of course not," she said quickly. "And I heard he attacked you." She rushed to Celeste's side, inspecting her like a concerned sister. "Are you alright? Honestly, he deserves more than a few lashes."
Before Celeste could respond, Margaret stormed in, her son right behind her. They looked as though they had seen a ghost. Without a word, they headed straight for the cell where Aiden was being held.
At the sight of Michael, Lydia lifted her chin slightly, ready to take credit for what she had done, and if needed, shift the blame onto Celeste for disobeying Margaret's orders. But before she could say a word—
Slap!
The sharp sound echoed through the dungeon as Margaret's hand struck one of the guards.
Everyone froze.
"You fools!" Margaret shouted. "Do you want to kill him? What on earth have you done? You all know the rules, don't you? I leave for a moment and come back to this?!"
The guards lowered their heads, none daring to respond. They were huge, and Margaret had to look up at them. Celeste knew hell would break loose if they decided to fight back. She wouldn't dare to pick a fight with them.
"We were only following orders, Madam," one of them said carefully. "Please forgive us."
"Orders?" Margaret's voice rose. "Whose orders? Who is foolish enough to give such orders?!"Realization hit her and she turned. "Where is Miss Dyer?"
Lydia, who had quietly slipped behind Celeste, stiffened. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was meant to be praised not questioned. If this went on, it could ruin everything... including her chances with Michael.
She leaned closer to Celeste, her voice low and urgent. "Cel, you have to help me. She looks furious. Tell her you did it."
"And what are you doing over there?" Margaret snapped, finally spotting her.
Lydia stepped out slowly, her expression carefully arranged into guilt, like someone about to take responsibility. But instead, she lowered her gaze and said,
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Blackwell. I tried to stop Celeste, b-but she was so upset. He had hurt her, and her anger got the better of her. She didn't mean any harm, of course... Please don't be angry with her."