<b>Chapter </b><b>167 </b>
-CELINE-
The morning sunlight screened through the penthouse windows as I stood at the kitchen counter, mechanically spreading mayonnaise on
bread for Hunter’s club sandwich.
The habit should have beenforting, but my mind kept drifting to that threatening text message fromst night.
‘We need to talk.‘
“Mommy, did you hear me?” Caesar’s voice pulled me back to the present.
“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”
He swung his little legs from his chair at the dining table, a piece of toast clutched in his small hands. “I said Bryan showed me how to build a really big sandcastle yesterday. But then that mean girl Emma kicked it down and made Bryan cry.”
I turned to face him, forcing a smile. “That wasn’t very nice of Emma. Did you help Bryan feel better?”
“Uh–huh. We built an even bigger one, and this time we put a moat around it so she couldn’t reach it.” His face lit up with pride.
“Bryan said I’m his best friend now.”
“That’s wonderful, baby.” I added lettuce to the sandwich, half–listening as Caesar continued chattering about his yground adventures.
My thoughts kept circling back to Margaret Torres and what she could possibly want from me.
Hunter walked into the kitchen, dressed casually in dark jeans and a gray sweater that made his eyes look almost silver. He ruffled Caesar’s hair as he passed, earning a giggle from our son.
“Morning, buddy. How’s breakfast?”
“Good! Mommy made the crusts the way I like them.”
Hunter moved behind me, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Smells incredible,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
“You spoil us.”
I leaned into him for just a moment, drawingfort from his solid presence. “It’s just a sandwich.”
“The best sandwich.” He reached around me to open the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. “Have I mentionedtely that you’re
amazing?”
Any other morning, his words would have made me smile. Today, they felt heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between us.
“Hunter,” I said quietly, not turning around. “I want to meet with her.”
He froze, the orange juice carton halfway to the counter. Slowly, he set it down and poured himself a ss, taking a deliberate sip before responding.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
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“I knew exactly what you’re going to say.“He took another sip. He moved in a controlled and careful way<i>. </i>
“You want to meet with your aunt. You think you can handle whatever game she’s ying. And you’re wrong.”
I sighed, finally turning to face him. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Because it’s the smart thing to say.” His jaw was tight, that familiar stubborn set to his features. “Celine, we don’t know what she wants or if she can be trusted. This could be….”
“She’s my aunt, Hunter.”
“She’s someone you haven’t seen since you were sixteen.” His voice grew sharper. “Given that you’re no longer in contact with your family for very good reasons, I can’t allow you to…..”
“Allow me?” The words came out harsher than I nned. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you make decisions for me and call it being in my best interest.”
Hunter set his ss down with a sharp clink. “It is in your best interest.”
“No, it’s not.” Frustration bubbled up in my chest, hot and overwhelming. “You’re living my life for me, Hunter. I have no say in anything. You
either want something or you don’t, and I just have to go along with it.”
“That’s not…..
“It is!” The words exploded out of me. “It’s suffocating, and I can’t take it anymore!”
I mmed the mayonnaise jar down on the counter with more force than necessary. The ss shattered on impact, and I felt a sharp pain slice across my palm.
“Shit!” I jerked my hand back, staring at the blood already welling from the cut.
“Jesus, Celine!” Hunter was beside me in an instant, his hands reaching for mine. “What the hell were you thinking?<b>” </b>
“I wasn’t….” I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.
“Stay still,” he ordered, his voice rough with anger he was barely controlling. “Let me see how deep it is.”
“Mommy?” Caesar’s small voice cut through our tension. “Are you okay?”
I looked over at him, seeing the worry in his big blue eyes, and felt shame wash over me. I’d lost control in front of my three–year–old son.
“I’m okay, sweetheart,” I said, forcing a smile even as Hunter examined my bleeding palm. “Mommy just had a little ident.”
Hunter moved to the cab where we kept the first aid kit, He moves sharply and efficiently. “Caesar<b>, </b>go back and finish your breakfast while I take care of Mommy.”
Our son hesitated, clearly sensing the tension between us, but finally turned back to his toast.
Hunter worked in silence, cleaning the cut with gentle but firm hands. The antiseptic stung, but I bit back any sound of difort.
His jaw was still tight with anger, but his touch was careful, almost tender.
When he finished wrapping my palm in gauze, I stared down at the white bandage, feeling hollow and defeated.
<b>15:09 </b>Sat, <b>9 </b><b>Aug </b>
<b>“</b>Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond. <fn1b11> Chapters first released on find?novel</fn1b11>
I ran my uninjured hand through my hair and turned toward the door. “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
Hunter didn’t try to stop me.
<b>44</b><b>% </b>
I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at my phone. I had memorized Margaret’s number from Hunter’s messages, my finger hovering over <b>the </b>screen as I debated whether to call.
I was curious–desperately so.
Why was my aunt watching me? Had my mother and Jesse sent her? What could she possibly want after all these years<b>? </b>
I bit my lower lip, my thumb moving toward the call button, when a soft knock on the doorframe made me look up.
Hunter stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest<b>, </b>his expression unreadable.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voiceing out more defensive than I intended. “You already told me I can’t go. There’s no need to keep watching me.”
He was quiet for a long moment, just studying my face. “I’m angry with you,” he said finally.
“I know.”
“Not for wanting to <i>see </i>your aunt.” His voice was carefully controlled. “I’m angry because you hurt yourself over people who don’t give a damn if you’re alive or dead.”
I looked away, shame burning in my chest. He was right, and we both knew it.
“I’m angry,” he continued, stepping into the room, “because you’d rather put yourself in danger than trust me to protect you.”
“Hunter….”
“But I’m also wrong.” The admission stopped me cold. “I’m wrong to make decisions for you like you’re a child who can’t think for herself.”
I stared at him, not trusting my ears.
“You’re not a kid, Celine. You’re a grown woman who’s capable of making her own choices, even the ones I disagree with.” He moved closer,
his expression softening slightly.
“I just… the thought of someone hurting you again makes me lose my mind.”
“I know you want to protect me,” I said quietly. “But sometimes your protection feels like a cage.”
He flinched as if I’d pped him. “That’s thest thing I want.”
“Then trust me to make my own mistakes.”
Hunter was quiet for a long moment, his inner struggle ying out across his features. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his <b>dark </b>hair.
“If you’re determined to meet with her,” he said slowly, “then I can’t stop you. But I have conditions.”
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Traised an eyebrow. “Conditions?”
“Public ce. Daytime. And I’m nearby, even if I’m not at the table with you.”
“Hunter…..”
“Those are my terms, Celine. Non–negotiable.” His blue eyes were steel. “Your aunt has been stalking us for a week. She’s up to something, and I won’t let you walk into whatever trap she’s set without backup.”
I considered his words. The conditions were reasonable, even if the protective instinct behind them still chafed.
“Fine,” I said finally. “But you stay out of sight unless I signal that I need help.”
“Deal.”
Two hourster, I sat across from Margaret Torres in a crowded café in Midtown, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea I hadn’t touched.
She looked older than I remembered–harder somehow, with deep lines around her eyes and a bitterness in her expression that hadn’t been
there when I was a teenager.
“Well, well,” she said, stirring sugar into her coffee with sharp, decisive movements. “Look at you. Finallynded yourself <b>a </b>real hotshot,
didn’t you?”
“Aunt Margaret….”
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” She leaned back in her chair, studying me with calcting eyes.
“Your mother always said you were the smart one, despite all herining. At least you turned out better than that stupid, foul–mouthed
brat Jesse.”
The rxed cruelty in her voice made me flinch.
This was what I had fought with Hunter for? To sit here and listen to my family tear each other apart with the same venom they had always
used?
“You always acted like such a little saint,” Margaret continued, “but you were always this clever, weren’t you? Using a pregnancy to tie down a
man like Hunter Reid. Brilliant strategy.”
“It’s not like that,” I said quietly.
<b>“</b>Oh, please.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t y innocent with me, Celine. I know how these things work.”
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I stared at her, feeling something cold settle in my stomach. This was my family. This was what I’d been hoping to reconnect with.
“What do you want, Aunt Margaret?”
Her smile was sharp and predatory. “Two hundred thousand dors.”
The number hit me like a physical blow. I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“You heard me. <i>Two </i>hundred thousand. J’have some debts that need settling, and your boyfriend has more money than God.”
“I can’t…..” I shook my head, speechless. “How would I even get that kind of money?”
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1500 Sat, y Aug
“Ask him.” She shrugged as if we were discussing the weather. “You’re carrying his child, living in his penthouse. Surely you have some influence.”
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. “This was a mistake. I thought… I hoped this might be some kind of family reunion, but…..
“But what? You thought i would wee you with open arms and pretend the past twenty years didn’t happen?” Margaret’sugh was bitter.
“Grow up, Celine.”
I stood, reaching for my purse. “I’m leaving.”
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist with surprising strength. “Sit down. We’re not finished.”
“Let go of me.” I looked down at her grip, a frown creasing my brow. “What are you doing?”
Margaret’s eyes glittered with malice. “You know, it’s no surprise your mother treated you like dirt. It’s no surprise she hated you all these years.”
“Aunt Margaret….”
“I don’t me my sister for the way she acted.” Her voice turned venomous, each word carefully chosen to inflict maximum damage.
“After all, you’re not her biological daughter. You’re just the bastard child from some affair your father had.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
The café around us seemed to fade, the chatter of other customers bing a distant buzz as her revtion sank in.
“What?” The word came out as barely a whisper.
Margaret’s smile was triumphant and cruel. “Oh, you didn’t know? How delicious. Your precious daddy had a little fling, and you were the unwanted reminder of his betrayal. No wonder my sister could never stand the sight of you.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me, my entire world tilting on its axis. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about why my mother had always favored Jesse, about why I’d never quite fit in…
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Margaret leaned forward, her grip on my wrist tightening. “Why do you think you look nothing like Jesse? Why do you think your mother threw you out the second she had an excuse?”
My vision blurred, and for a moment I thought I might be sick. Twenty years of feeling like an outsider in my own family suddenly made horrible, perfect sense.
“Now” Margaret continund harunion almost pleasant about that mannu
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AD
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