Chapter 30
Céline
Sophia opened the door right as I lifted my hand to knock.
She stood there in her soft baby blue sweater, her face already pulled tight with worry.
Behind her, Anya paced the living room floor with her phone gripped in one hand and Miss Astoria tucked under her other arm.
The cat looked perfectly content to be carried like that.
The second Miss Astoria spotted me, she let out a scream.
Anya glanced down at her.
“Yeah, your mom is making some terrible choices right now. We all see it.”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind us.
The latch clicked, and the whole suite felt smaller with Vincent standing just inside the entrance.
Sophia’s eyes moved over me in one quick sweep—my face, my coat, my hands, the faint red mark across my palm where I had slapped my father.
Then her gaze landed on Vincent behind me, and her expression changed.
“Professor Moreau,” she said.
“Miss Sophia Kwon,” he answered, calm and polite.
I shot him a sharp look.
He met my eyes like he was simply stating a fact he already knew.
Anya stopped pacing. “Absolutely not.”
No one asked her to explain. We all understood.
Sophia folded her arms across her chest.
“What happened out there?”
“My father… Daniel came to campus,” I said.
Anya’s voice came out tight. “We heard that part already. He called you Selena right in the middle of the courtyard, and then Professor Moreau appeared like he had been waiting for the exact right moment.”
Vincent’s mouth almost moved into a smile.
I pointed at him without turning around.
“Don’t even start right now.”
He stayed quiet.
Sophia kept her eyes on me.
“And now you’re moving in with him.”
“For a while,” I said.
“No,” Anya cut in right away.
“Anya.”
“No. I love you, but this is insane. Not the fun kind of insane. This is the kind where girls end up in true crime documentaries, saying they thought they could handle it.”
Miss Astoria screamed again as if she agreed.
I reached out and took the cat from Anya because I needed something warm to hold that would not demand explanations. Miss Astoria climbed straight up my chest, claws hooking into my coat, and pressed her face under my chin. I slid one hand into her fur and felt her small body vibrating.
“It’s temporary,” I told them.
Sophia looked straight at Vincent.
“Is it?”
He met her gaze without blinking. “Yes, of course. Just until we make sure she stays safe from any harm.”
I let out a short laugh under my breath.
Everyone turned to me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t expect a man to lie that smoothly while standing in my living room.”
Vincent’s eyes shifted to me.
I looked away first. Anger still burned in my chest, but underneath it sat something heavier—relief that he was here, relief that my father had left.
I still hated him for bringing Daniel back into my life, yet I saw the regret in the way his shoulders sat a little lower than usual.
Maybe my attraction clouded everything, but right now, Vincent felt like the only person who could stand between me and the mess I had created in my life.
Sophia stepped closer.
“You can stay here with us.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
I glanced at the locked door, then the windows, then the thin hallway outside our suite.
Anyone could walk up, knock, listen. The dorm had felt safe because Sophia and Anya lived here, because Miss Astoria slept on my bed, because the three of us had built something small and steady out of late-night takeout and borrowed clothes.
Now my father knew exactly where to find me.
Worse, the rest of campus had heard him call me by the wrong name in public.
Secrets I could manage. Gossip that gathered in groups I could not.
“He came to campus,” I said quietly. “He will come here next.”
Anya’s face tightened with anger before she smoothed it out.
“Then we call campus security.”
“And tell them what?”
“That your abusive father is harassing you.”
The word hung there between us.
I felt Vincent’s eyes on me—guilt, concern, and something protective all mixed together.
Sophia’s voice softened. “That is what happened, right?”
I looked down at the white fur under my fingers. I could have said yes or no or tried to explain in a way that made me sound less reckless for handing my life over to Vincent right now.
Instead, I said, “Security keeps records. Records create questions I don’t want to answer.”
Sophia understood right away.
Anya took a second longer, then her anger shifted into something helpless.
“Céline.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you do.”
“I do.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to.
“I know exactly how this looks. I know moving in with him is probably stupid. I know you both hate it, and I would hate it if either of you tried the same thing. But Daniel will come back, and Vincent is the only one who can make him think twice before he does.”
Vincent stayed perfectly still.
Sophia looked at him again.
“That had better be true.”
“It is,” he said.
“And if she wants to leave at any point?”
“She leaves.”
Anya gave a short laugh that held no humour. “None of us believe that, Mr I-broke-into-your-ex’s-apartment.”
“Ah, so she did tell you about that,” Vincent answered with a smirk.
I touched Anya’s arm before she could keep going.
“I made terms with him.”
“Terms don’t make a prison any less of a prison.” Anya’s eyes flashed.
“No,” I said. “But they make it harder to pretend I walked into it blind.”
I had walked into rooms before and pretended not to see the exits.
I had stood on a terrace with Katherine and acted surprised when the wind turned dangerous.
I had held her hand over the ledge and told myself the choice had not already formed inside me.
I had stopped walking into anything blind a long time ago.
Sophia reached for my free hand and turned it over gently. The palm was still red and beginning to swell from the slap.
“You hit him,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Anya said.
I smiled a little.
Sophia ran her thumb lightly over the sore spot. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Good,” Anya repeated. “Means you made some solid contact.”
Vincent made a soft sound in his throat.
I looked at him. “Don’t laugh.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“You absolutely would.”
The easy back-and-forth made Sophia’s eyes sharpen.
She noticed almost everything, but not quite everything.
If she had, she would not still be standing here trying to protect me.
She would know there were things protection could not reach.
She would know Katherine had begged me not to let go.
She would know I had looked at my best friend’s face and chosen the version of my life that would survive over the hand I held.
Sophia released my hand. “We are packing with you.”
“I know.”
“And we are coming with you to see where you will be staying.”
Vincent’s gaze shifted. “That is not necessary.”
Anya smiled at him with every tooth showing.
“Unfortunately, I was not asking you.”
Sophia did not smile. “We are checking the room. We are checking the lock. We are writing down the address, the floor, the building security, and the nearest exit.”
Vincent looked almost amused.
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I have not finished yet,” Sophia said.
“I assumed as much.”
“You do not isolate her from us.”
“Sure.”
“You do not answer her phone.”
“I have no intention to.”
“You do not speak to her mother,” she continued.
“She already made that term clear.”
“And I am making it clear again.”
The room went quiet for a moment.
Then Vincent gave a small nod. “Understood.”
Anya narrowed her eyes. “I still hate him.”
“I know,” I said.
“I am saying it right in front of him. I don’t care.”
“I gathered.”
Vincent looked at her. “That is also understood.”
“Good. I hope it makes the dorm feel uncomfortable for your brief stay.”
“It likely will.”
“Excellent.”
For some reason, that was the moment my throat tightened.
Not when my father called. Not when he showed up on campus.
Not when Vincent admitted what he had done.
It was Anya threatening to make him uncomfortable and Sophia planning to check every lock with that calm, careful voice.
It was Miss Astoria’s small heartbeat against my chest. Their practical way of loving me always hit harder than anything soft.
We started packing. Anya muttered insults under her breath while she tossed clothes into open suitcases like she was clearing out a palace under siege.
Sophia folded everything neatly and said panic packing only created wrinkles, and wrinkles created more panic.
I moved more slowly, touching things that already felt like they belonged to someone who had left.
My sketchbook went in first. I almost hid it under sweaters out of old habit, then stopped myself. Vincent’s eyes followed the movement, but he said nothing.
The prescription bottle went into the inner pocket of my bag. I zipped it shut. Vincent noticed, but he kept quiet.
Miss Astoria climbed into the first suitcase and refused to leave.
Anya stared at her.
“She thinks she is luggage now.”
“She thinks she owns the luggage,” Sophia said.
“She is right,” I answered.
Miss Astoria blinked slowly as if she accepted the compliment.
We kept working. Zippers slid, hangers clinked, and rain started tapping against the window again. Anya opened drawers without hesitation. Sophia asked whether I needed both black coats and then answered her own question before I could speak.
Then Anya pulled a silk blouse from the closet and went still. It was one of Katherine’s favorites she wore often and had grown tired of—white with pearl buttons.
I knew it right away. So did she.
Anya looked at me. “Do you want this one?”
The question came out gently.