Chapter 1

"Be a decent person. Don't repeat the same mistake." The guard's final words echoed in Celeste Morin's mind as she stepped out of the prison that had consumed three years of her life.

The sunlight hit her skin, warm but unfamiliar.

A short distance away, a sleek Maybach idled. From it, two figures approached—one tall, one short.

"Celeste, I've come to take you home."

Celeste looked up, and her gaze settled on the pair. It was her husband, Damien Wrenford, and her son, Lucian Wrenford.

When their eyes met, Damien froze. Was this really Celeste? Three years apart had transformed her.

She was thinner—almost skeletal. The vibrant, confident woman he once knew now stood before him—frail, hollow-eyed, and visibly broken.

But why? He had made sure she'd be treated well inside. Was this all an act?

Memories from three years ago flooded his mind, and his expression hardened. Even if this was real, she had brought it on herself.

His voice was cold and detached. "Get in the car. You've spent three years in there. That should've taught you something. Don't make the same mistakes again."

Lucian was taken aback too. He remembered Celeste differently. She was gorgeous and elegant. Her smile used to light up any room.

But now… he could barely recognize her.

After a beat, Lucian snapped out of his daze and said coldly, "Dad's right. Lucy is kind. She forgave you. But Mom, if you ever hurt her again, Dad and I will never forgive you."

"Forgive me?" Celeste's face was a mask of numbness. She stared at them in silence for what felt like an eternity, then a bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips.

"The man who threw his wife into prison, and the son who helped him—do you really think you have the right to talk about forgiveness?"

These two—the husband and son she had once loved more than life itself—had been the very ones to condemn her to prison three years ago.

Damien had once saved her life. That was why she'd been so determined to marry him.

Back then, the Wrenford family wasn't nearly as powerful as the Morins. She brought wedding gifts, her family's influence, and even went against her mother, Judy Beckham, to marry beneath her status.

After the wedding, she gave up everything for the Wrenford family. Though she was gifted in traditional medicine, she set it aside, devoting herself to cooking, cleaning, and gradually fading into the role of an overlooked, exhausted housewife.

She had believed, in time, she'd earn their respect. But Damien remained distant and indifferent.

Even Lucian, her own son, barely cared. He would say things like, "Mom, you don't even have a job—you have no right to tell me what to do."

She had convinced herself that they were just naturally aloof and emotionally distant. That was, until Damien's first love, Lucy Vale, returned.

In front of Lucy, Damien was a different man—gone was the cold, aloof elegance. He smiled, and for the first time, Celeste saw the softness in his eyes—the gentleness she had never received.

That was when she realized—Damien could smile like that. Just never at her.

Even on their anniversary, when Celeste collapsed from complications related to childbirth, he ignored her desperate calls. Instead, he stayed at Lucy's birthday party.

She barely survived the surgery, receiving multiple critical condition notices. But neither Damien nor Lucian came to see her.

When she was finally discharged and came home, all that awaited her was a messy house, an ungrateful son, and a husband who didn't care.

Lucian had even sneered. "You're not a good mom. You were gone for so long, and you didn't even clean! You'll never be as great as Lucy!"

Clean? She'd been on the brink of death.

And yet, she'd still tried to understand. Kids could say cruel things. As for Damien, he'd always been cold. Maybe, in time, things would change. So she endured.

That was how the days went by—barely held together. They had a child. What was she supposed to do? Get a divorce?

Then came the party—the night Lucy fell from a raised platform and immediately pointed the finger at her.

Damien and Lucian didn't even bother to check the surveillance footage. They stood by Lucy without question, backing her story.

Celeste had dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach, begging Damien to believe her. The gravel dug into her palms, drawing blood.

But Damien didn't even flinch.

Expressionless, he merely frowned and took out a handkerchief, brushing the dust off the hem of his custom-tailored suit— as if the only thing that mattered was how dirty she'd made him.

Lucian shoved her, sneering, "You're a horrible woman! You don't deserve to be my mom! I wish you had died giving birth to me. Then Lucy could've been my real mother!"

Celeste had collapsed in that moment, not just from the pain, but from the weight of it all. And somehow… she laughed. She laughed at how blindly she had loved them and at how foolish she'd been.

In the end, they had her convicted of assault and sent her to prison. She spent three years there—three years surrounded by the most dangerous, vicious criminals—where every day was hell. Each day was a fight for survival; cruelty was a routine occurrence.

And in all that time, Damien and Lucian never came to see her. Not even once.

If it hadn't been for…

She might've died there.

Now, Damien's cold voice snapped her back to the present. "Lucian and I are willing to overlook the fact that you've been imprisoned and take you back. That's more than generous.

"Lucy is waiting for us at home. Don't waste our time."

Lucian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mom. Stop being so dramatic. Lucy's making teddy bear cookies for me tonight. If we don't get home soon, the ice cream cake I bought her will melt."

Celeste stood there in silence as bitter irony surged over her.

Teddy bear cookies?

Lucian must've forgotten—she was the one who first came up with that tedious little recipe, just to make him smile.

Lucy had stolen it later. And yet, when Lucy made them, Lucian insisted that they tasted better.

And now here they were, standing outside a prison, thinking only of Lucy—bringing her gifts, offering her affection, not sparing Celeste even a kind word or a gift.

Between her and Lucy, they had always chosen Lucy. They always believed in her and protected her.

Even her own son, whom she had given birth to—Lucian's name was just a breath away from Lucy.

Celeste raised her head, her voice calm and emotionless. "I'm not going back with you."

Damien's eyes darkened. Irritation flared across his face. "You're not going back with us? With your record, where else could you possibly go? Celeste, it's been three years. You still haven't learned?"

"That's my business. You don't want a wife with a criminal record, and I don't want a husband or a son who dragged me to hell."

People would rarely learn from lectures, but from life? One hard lesson was more than enough.

Three years ago, she had loved Damien and Lucian with all her heart. So even when they ignored her, resented her, and chose Lucy over her, she waited, hoping that one day, they'd come back to her.

But now, after three years in hell, whatever was left of her heart had long since turned to ash.

Her husband, Damien. Her son, Lucian. She couldn't afford to love them anymore—and she no longer wanted to.

Celeste's voice was flat, distant. "Let's get a divorce."

Chapter 2

"Mom, you've been to prison and now you want a divorce? What do you think people will say about you?" Lucian blurted out without a second thought.

Even Damien was caught off guard. He had expected Celeste to play the victim and beg for compensation—after all, she had only married into the Wrenford family for the wedding gifts.

But divorce? That was the last thing he expected. Especially not from the woman who, three years ago, had done everything she could to stay by their side. And now, after spending three years in prison?

Clearly, this was just another ploy to get them to feel sorry for her.

Damien's voice turned cold. "Lucian's right. If you leave the Wrenford family, where else could you possibly go? Keep this up, Celeste, and you're just making a fool of yourself."

Celeste didn't even flinch. She calmly hailed a cab, ignoring the curious glances from the driver. Before getting in, she turned back to face Damien and Lucian.

"That's my business. I'll send over the divorce papers soon. Congratulations—now that we're divorcing, you're free to have Lucy as your wife and his mother." Her voice was icy and detached.

With that, Celeste got into the cab and never looked back.

Damien stood there watching her slight, unsteady figure disappear into the distance. For some reason, an unfamiliar irritation crept up his chest.

He'd only come because Lucy and Alaric Wrenford had insisted. And this was what he got? A divorce? The old Celeste would've fallen to her knees in gratitude.

Now, he would just wait and see how far a woman with a criminal record thought she could go.

…

Celeste slid into the back seat. As luck would have it, the cab's small screen flickered on, playing Lucy's interview video.

"Lucy, you've quickly risen to become one of the top-tier actresses of our time. Have you given any thought to your love life?" the reporter asked with a playful smile.

On screen, Lucy's eyes drifted toward the audience where Damien and Lucian sat. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

"I'm happy with everything I have right now. After all, I've had two amazing men by my side for the past three years, supporting me through it all."

The camera cut to Damien and Lucian, the perfect picture of a warm, supportive family.

The driver, clearly familiar with the gossip, glanced at Celeste in the rearview mirror and said casually, "Guess you've been away too long to know what's going on, huh? That's Ms. Vale on the screen.

"The guy and the kid from Wrenford Corporation are her husband and son. On her birthday, Mr. Wrenford lit up the whole night sky with fireworks. Real golden family, that one—can't miss 'em."

Celeste finally looked up. She seemed swallowed by her oversized clothes, with her thin frame nearly lost in the fabric.

Her eyes lingered on the screen for a long moment. Then, in a voice hoarse from disuse, she murmured, "Golden? All I see is garbage."

While she'd been beaten and humiliated behind bars, they were out celebrating, building Lucy up, and watching fireworks light the night sky.

Even after everything—even after going numb from their coldness—it still felt like a slap in the face.

The driver opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd picked her up right outside the prison gates, or maybe it was the way she looked like a stiff breeze might knock her over—either way, he stayed silent.

Celeste closed her eyes and leaned back, pretending to rest.

The cab pulled up in front of a house—one of the few properties still under Celeste's name.

She went inside to get cash for the fare, then headed to the nearest supermarket to pick up some essentials.

When she'd been arrested three years ago, all her assets had been frozen. Now that she was out, she could at least afford the basics.

But it had been too long since she'd been around people. Everything felt unfamiliar. Even when the cashier reached over to scan her groceries, Celeste instinctively flinched.

"Miss, are you okay?" the cashier asked gently.

Snapping back to reality, Celeste gave a bitter smile and shook her head. She was fine. She was just used to being hit.

On her way out of the store, her phone buzzed. Her best friend, Annie Cooper, came through the line.

Her voice was emotional and full of warmth. "God, Celeste—I wanted to fly back sooner, but the typhoon grounded all the flights. Are you still at the Wrenford residence, or..."

"I'm at Aviso Tower," Celeste said.

Annie frowned. "Didn't Damien pick you up? You're still married, after all—he should've—"

"Annie," Celeste cut her off. "I'm divorcing him."Her voice was soft while her fingers clenched around the phone.

Before prison, Annie had been her closest friend. She'd warned her more than once not to lose herself in a husband and a child and encouraged her to get a divorce.

But Celeste had kept waiting for Damien to come around.

"What happened to you in…" Annie's voice cracked, and the question hung unfinished in the air.

Annie visited frequently in the beginning. But she'd later been sent abroad to report on war zones. And now, three years later, the woman who once clung to hope was insisting on a divorce. What had broken her?

Celeste didn't answer. But in her eyes, pain flickered—sharp, then dull, then buried.

Annie switched the subject. "After your arrest, your aunt took over Maple Hill Estate and even turned it into a tourist site. And Lucy… well, there's a lot. I'll tell you everything once I'm back."

"Okay," Celeste said slowly.

Her father, Bruce Morin, had died the second year after her wedding.

While she was in prison, Judy had cried herself blind, then fallen gravely ill. Celeste had begged Damien for help and pleaded with him to save her.

She waited and waited, but all she received was a death notice. And now, even her inheritance had been taken.

Her expression turned icy, but the pain was quickly masked by a calm that was too still to be natural.

Three years behind bars had changed everything. She'd been through hell in prison, and if she wanted to reclaim what was hers, she would need some time.

Chapter 3

When Damien and Lucian returned to the Wrenford residence, Lucy was already waiting with a full table of home-cooked dishes.

Noticing Celeste was nowhere in sight, Lucy quickly got the full story. She sighed. "Damien, is Ms. Morin refusing to come back because she's still bitter about what happened three years ago?

"After all, she did serve time. But where else could she possibly go if not here?"

"Let her be," Damien replied with a chilly tone.

Still, he couldn't shake the image of Celeste from his mind. She'd lost so much weight, and even her whole demeanor had changed.

Her eyes practically burned with resentment. Could she have really suffered that much in prison?

No. Absolutely not. He dismissed the thought immediately. Lucy had told him before that the women's prison was a friendly, decent place.

Besides, he'd pulled strings to make sure she was taken care of. She had food, clothes, and a roof over her head. For someone guilty of a crime like hers, three years inside was little more than being grounded.

Even so, Lucy looked worried. "Still… if she doesn't come back, what are we supposed to tell Mr. Wrenford Senior if he asks? He specifically told you to pick her up from prison."

Celeste had once saved Alaric's life. Since then, he had shown her nothing but favor. He'd even pushed Damien to marry her, going so far as to give lavish wedding gifts to make it happen.

Even after she was imprisoned, Alaric never changed his stance—Celeste was the only granddaughter-in-law he would ever acknowledge.

But Damien was unfazed. "Don't worry. She won't stay away for long. She's mad at me, not Lucian. His graduation is just a few days away. She won't miss that."

Lucian had skipped three grades and was graduating from elementary school at the age of nine. Everyone knew how much Celeste adored Lucian. There was no way she'd miss such a proud moment.

Lucian pouted and snuggled into Lucy's arms, murmuring, "But I want you to come to my graduation, Lucy."

Lucy tapped his nose with a smile. "Alright. As long as you can talk your mom into coming back, I will go with you. After all, with her criminal record, she's not exactly the best fit for that kind of event."

Lucian froze. Talk her into coming back? Was Lucy asking him to lie?

His eyes flickered with hesitation, but just for a moment. If his classmates found out that Celeste had been in prison, they might not want to be friends with him anymore.

And since Damien didn't object, Lucian nodded quietly.

Lucy smiled and glanced at the food she had prepared. "Such a shame, though. I made all this just for Ms. Morin, and now it's going to waste."

But two days passed, and there was still no word from Celeste. It was as if she'd made up her mind to get a divorce—and cut Damien and Lucian out of her life completely.

Damien's frown deepened. He finally picked up his phone and tried calling her.

But the number had been disconnected. He blinked, stunned, before it hit him—Celeste had been in prison for three years.

Of course, her old number was out of service. Even her social media had been deleted. He had no way to reach her. A flicker of unease stirred in his chest.

Damien immediately barked at his secretary, "Find out Celeste's current address and phone number! She's out of prison now—she can't go around tarnishing the Wrenford family's name!"

…

Meanwhile, Celeste had been busy redecorating Aviso Tower over the past two days.

Following her divorce from Damien, she would have been entitled to half of the marital assets. But until then, she had to support herself. So, she decided to return to an old passion—carving emeralds.

For the past three years, Aviso Tower had sat untouched, gathering dust. As she cleaned, something struck her—the guardian gargoyles she'd once placed were gone.

She called the property management.

"Three years ago, Ms. Vale was injured by a crazed fan. Mr. Wrenford and Mr. Lucian brought the gargoyles to Ms. Vale's villa. They said those gargoyles would protect her."

Celeste didn't even flinch. She had carved those gargoyles herself—painstakingly, with her own hands—for Damien and Lucian. They were meant to protect and watch over them.

Damien had tossed them aside, calling them vulgar and crude before giving them back without a second thought.

But what she hadn't expected was that they had actually given her guardian gargoyles to Lucy. They tossed aside her heartfelt gift, only to dress it up and repackage her love as if it were their own.

Without a second thought, Celeste hung up and dialed 911.

When the operator picked up, her expression was calm and steady. "I'd like to report a theft. Something was stolen from my home."

She hung up afterward.

By the time the police finished taking her statement, Celeste was utterly exhausted. Only after they left did she notice how hot her body felt.

She dragged herself to the hospital for some pills. But when the doctor saw her scars, his expression turned grim.

"You have far too many old injuries, and most didn't heal properly. This isn't just bruises and cuts.

"There are signs of repeated blunt force trauma, and what looks like needle punctures. Your body is worn down and fragile. I strongly suggest you stay here for proper treatment. If you don't—"

"That won't be necessary." Celeste cut him off. Her eyes were numb and distant. She knew her body better than anyone. She'd studied traditional medicine all her life.

The people in prison were vicious, and most of her injuries had been inflicted where guards wouldn't notice. If she hadn't known how to treat herself, she probably wouldn't have made it out alive.

She hadn't died in prison, so why would she let herself fall apart now?

But the cruelest part of it all was knowing these wounds weren't from strangers. They were gifts from the man she once shared a bed with and the child she carried for ten long months.

The irony was almost laughable. Celeste silently vowed never to return to the Wrenford family again.

As the doctor changed her bandages, Lucian spotted her from across the hall.

He tugged on Damien's sleeve and pressed his lips."Dad, why is she at the hospital? Is she sick?"

Only then did Damien look up and notice her. His brows drew together, and irritation flashed across his eyes.

Three years, and still the same old tactic? Sick? Please. He was convinced—it was all just another ploy to get his attention.

Chapter 4

"What are you doing here?" Damien's cold voice sliced through the air.

Celeste looked up to see Damien standing beside Lucy, with Lucian at their side. The three of them stood close, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Lucy blinked in surprise, then let out a sigh. "Ms. Morin, there's no need for this. If you wanted to see Damien, you didn't have to wait for him at the hospital.

"You just got out of prison—this kind of behavior won't do your image any favors."

She came all this way just to see them? Did that mean she regretted not coming home with them?

Lucian's heart gave a hopeful little leap, but then he remembered what Celeste had said before and pouted.

"Mom, you're such a hypocrite. You say you don't care, but you can't stay away from me and Dad. You clearly want to come home."

Damien let out a mocking smile. "And here I thought you finally grew a spine. You refused to return to the Wrenford residence, yet you couldn't even last two days before running after us. Still as pathetic as ever, Celeste—"

However, he didn't get to finish. "Ms. Morin, here's your medication," the doctor interjected, handing Celeste a small bag of pills.

He shot a sharp look at Damien and the others, clearly remembering her injuries.

"What are you all doing just standing here? Don't block the hallway—my patient needs to get her medication."

Celeste's cold gaze swept over them. "Do you understand plain words? I'm here to pick up my pills. You guys, on the other hand, might want to get your heads checked."

Damien's expression darkened, and he frowned slightly.

Celeste was sick right after getting out of prison? Could something really have happened to her in there?

Celeste turned to leave, but Lucian suddenly pursed his lips and reached for her hand.

"My graduation's in a few days. Even if you're mad, you should still come. After all, you're still my mom."

The last word came out in a whisper, and he stole a quick glance at Lucy, as if afraid she'd be upset.

But Celeste didn't even look at him. She pulled her hand away and said coldly, "You've got the wrong woman. I'm not your mother."

With that, she turned and started to walk off.

Lucy's voice rang out behind her. "Ms. Morin, I understand it's hard coming back after being in prison. But that doesn't excuse you from your responsibilities as a mother.

"You've abandoned your child for three years. Are you really going to keep pretending that Lucian doesn't exist?" Her voice was loud—deliberately so.

Immediately, countless eyes turned to Celeste.

The words "prison" and "abandoned" hung in the air like stains, sparking a wave of murmurs as people began whispering around them.

Then, from the edge of the crowd, a police officer stepped forward and approached Lucy.

"Ms. Vale, we received a report regarding two stolen guardian gargoyles. They're the same ones featured on a show about your home. Please come with us for questioning."

Gasps rippled through the corridor.

Damien frowned. Was Celeste back at Aviso Tower?

Lucy's face went pale, then flushed red. Before she could say anything, Celeste coughed. Her pale face was cold and detached.

She looked at Lucian. "He's nine. If he wants to choose someone else to call 'Mom,' that's his right.

But I also have the right not to be his mother."

The law required her to pay child support—nothing more. It didn't demand that she love him.

Then she turned to Lucy. "As for you, Ms. Vale... those guardian gargoyles are legally mine.

"Not even my husband had the authority to give them away. If you can't return them, then maybe you should get used to a jail cell."

Damien grabbed her wrist. The moment he touched her, he froze. Her wrist felt frighteningly thin, and her skin was burning hot. She was having a fever.

But quickly, he snapped out of his daze. "Are you done humiliating yourself? Yeah, you were in prison for three years—so what?

"That doesn't give you the right to get the cops involved. Those guardian gargoyles? I gave them to Lucy!"

"Yeah!" Lucian added. "If it weren't for Great-Grandpa and Lucy telling me to give you a chance, I never would've accepted you as my mom in the first place. And now you're treating her like this?"

She'd even refused to come to his graduation.

Lucian's chest burned with frustration. But beneath the anger, there was a flicker of doubt.

The mom he used to know would never have been this cold. She would've done everything to win him over—she would never have missed his graduation. It was as if she had become a completely different person.

As Celeste listened to their accusations, all she felt was a dull numbness and a bitter sense of irony.

Maybe, to them, those three years in hell meant nothing. Lucy's wounds seemed to matter more than anything she'd suffered.

The fever blurred her vision, and her legs barely held her up. Celeste yanked her wrist free and looked Damien dead in the eye—then laughed.

"You're disgusting, Mr. Wrenford. Since you think that prison's no big deal, why don't you try it sometime?" Her voice was sharp and bitter, nothing like the woman she'd been three years ago.

Damien stood there, stunned.

After leaving the hospital, Celeste wiped her hand where Damien had touched her.

Only one thought echoed in her mind. She needed to finalize the divorce as soon as possible. Every second spent tangled up with Damien was pure agony.

Lucy's interrogation lasted all night. Celeste, meanwhile, simply took her pills and went to bed.

When she woke up, still groggy, the first thing she saw was Annie, rushing in, looking travel-worn and worried.

"You just got out, and now you've got a raging fever?" Annie's face was exasperated. "You were burning up and almost hit 104 degrees. Luckily, it's gone down now."

She handed her a glass of water and some pills."If you need anything, just say the word."

Celeste didn't want to talk about what prison had done to her. But seeing Annie, unchanged after all these years, warmed her, just a little.

Damien and Lucian were no longer people she could count on. But at least, she still had a friend.

She swallowed the pills, then lowered her gaze. "Help me draft the divorce papers. And I need you to help me find someone."

Chapter 5

"Looking for someone? Who are you trying to find?" Annie's expression flickered with confusion, and her voice was tinged with curiosity.

"A death row inmate's daughter," Celeste replied softly. "That woman saved my life once, back when I was in prison. I promised I'd return the favor. So she asked me to look after her daughter after I got out."

Annie hesitated, then asked gently, "What's her name? How old is she?"

"Eloise Barker. She's six." Celeste's voice was barely above a whisper. Her complexion had improved just slightly.

"Alright. I'll start drafting the divorce papers for you as soon as I can," Annie said, then gently tucked the blanket around her.

"As for the little girl, I'll get someone on it. It might take a while, but once I hear anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you, Annie." A faint smile touched Celeste's lips, more a gesture of politeness than warmth.

Annie noticed the pallor beneath that fragile smile and felt a flicker of worry. She reached out, gently patting the back of Celeste's hand.

"Right now, what matters most is getting your strength back. Everything else can wait—especially Damien and Lucian.

At those names, whatever softness had touched Celeste's expression vanished.

Annie noticed but continued, "Honestly, if Damien and Lucian hadn't rushed in to defend that woman without even checking the surveillance footage, you probably wouldn't have ended up in prison.

"And you wouldn't be in this mess now…" Her voice trailed off as her thoughts were heavy with unspoken regret and sympathy.

Celeste, however, didn't respond. She simply smiled again.

She had already made peace with the past before stepping out of prison and facing them. Even if the footage had surfaced or proved her innocence, Damien and Lucian would have found a way to dismiss it and pin the blame on someone else.

One way or another, she still would've ended up behind bars.

After all, she'd already stared death in the face. Dwelling on the past was pointless now.

"Celeste..." Annie called her name softly.

Celeste snapped out of her thoughts. She was about to reply when her phone rang. It was the police. Apparently, the guardian gargoyles had been found, and she was asked to come in immediately.

After hanging up, Celeste threw back the covers and got up.

"What's going on? Why the rush?" Annie caught her slender wrist, worried.

Celeste quickly slipped on her slippers while her expression had visibly hardened. "The police said the guardian gargoyles were found. I have to go now."

"But you're still burning up with fever. You just took your pills. Your body can't handle this."

"Don't worry." Celeste gave a reassuring squeeze on the arm. "I can handle it.

Annie knew she wouldn't be talked out of it, so she sent her off.

…

30 minutes later, Celeste stepped into the police station and immediately spotted the three figures that were all too familiar. At a glance, they looked like a picture-perfect little family.

"Ms. Morin, your guardian gargoyles were found outside Ms. Vale's home. They're too large to move, so we need you to confirm the photos."

When the police officer handed her the pictures, Celeste frowned. No doubt about it—they were hers.

"Yes," she said, "they're mine."

"Celeste, I already gave those gargoyles to Lucy. There's no theft here. Don't make a scene. Just explain that to the officers." Damien's low, cutting voice came from behind her.

She turned and met his stony gaze.

"He's right," Lucian added grimly. "Dad gave them to Lucy. And they were ours to begin with. How can it be stealing?"

Celeste didn't respond to Lucian. She looked straight at Damien and said indifferently, "Those guardian gargoyles were mine before we got married.

"You had no right to give them away—especially not without asking me."

"Fine. Name your price. Let's just say I'm buying them. Will that settle it?" Damien offered an alternative.

Celeste frowned slightly. Fresh out of prison, no job, barely any stability—she couldn't deny she needed the money.

Damien kept pushing. "Besides, you keep insisting those gargoyles were yours before the marriage. But where's your proof?

"What evidence do you have that they belonged to you before we got married?"

Lucy stepped in, seemingly trying to smooth things over. "Ms. Morin, Damien has a point. You two were married. Doesn't that make everything shared property? It's hard to separate what came before and after."

"Mom," Lucian suddenly said, frowning, "those gargoyles aren't even cute. There's no use even if you get them back. Why do you care so much about them?"

Celeste looked at the three of them—so united, so rehearsed—as if they'd practiced ganging up on her.

Unbelievable.

She let out a cold laugh. "Even if they're worthless, I carved them with my own hands. How do you plan to deny that?"

Damien and Lucian both fell silent.

Off to the side, Lucy bit her lip in frustration. Her eyes were rimmed with red as she looked at Damien.

"Damien, it's all my fault. But those guardian gargoyles were shown on the show. It's not that I don't want to return them… It's just that…"

Returning them now would confirm the rumors—she'd be branded a thief.

Hearing this, Damien turned back to Celeste coldly. "Enough! They're just statues. Tell me how much you want. I'll pay you on Lucy's behalf."

Celeste let out a smile. "You want to pay? Fine. Three million dollars."

Her guardian gargoyles were priceless. Three million dollars wasn't even steep.

"Three million? Are you kidding?" Lucy's face flushed red with fury. "That's extortion!"

Damien sneered. "So that's what this is about. Money."

Celeste didn't bother answering. She needed to rebuild her career after prison, and that money would be the key to a new start.

"Give me your account number. I'll transfer it now," Damien snapped, barely masking the disgust in his eyes.

She was refusing to return to the Wrenford residence out of spite—and now causing another scene. She was as manipulative as always.

If it weren't for Alaric, he would've divorced her in a heartbeat.

Celeste didn't even blink. She scribbled the bank account number from memory and tossed it to him.

…

Outside the police station, Celeste was ready to leave when Damien called out behind her. "Wait."

She turned back slowly with an aloof gaze. "What now?"

Damien looked at her coldly. "Grandpa's been asking about you. And Adrian's flying back soon. There's a family dinner at Wrenford Manor the evening after tomorrow. Be there."

He hadn't planned on inviting her at first. After all, a woman with a prison record was nothing but an embarrassment.

But the timing was too perfect—Adrian Wrenford's return and her release. If she didn't show up, Alaric would have questioned it. Besides, with Adrian's power and influence, her absence would have left a bad impression.

Celeste froze as his words echoed in her mind. Adrian's devilishly handsome face flashed before her like a spark.

"Did you hear me?" Damien frowned, and his voice rose with irritation.

Jolted from her thoughts, Celeste tensed, then she answered softly. "I heard you."

But something gnawed at her. Adrian—why was he coming back now?