TEN
Cece
I take off my rings, staring into the bathroom mirror.
This evening is not going as planned. My mom’s barbs were landing straight where they were meant to.
‘Will you make more time for Vivi’s short visit?’
‘Are you sure you don’t have other things in your head? She won’t be here long, Celestine?’
Meaning, will I be able to unfocus myself long enough to entertain my own sister?
Also, if she can be Vivi, then why am I Celestine? Why can’t she call me Cece even through her pointed remarks?
And then she sounded awfully upset with Levi drifting away from me earlier in the evening. Doesn’t she know we usually split up to gather everything we can?
Then again—this is less of an anniversary and more of a merger celebration for them. And in her mind, Levi and I are the faces of it.
I sigh, grabbing a towel from the basket. Forcing the ‘V’ on my forehead to relax. Then I practice the smile again—the one I need to wear to get through this evening.
Crap. I’m already itching for my bed and it’s only 9:26 p.m.
I step outside the bathroom, hallway empty. That’s when I hear it.
“Oh hey, it’s you.”
The voice comes from behind me. I don’t freeze—at least I try not to—before I turn to face the person I haven’t interacted with much. “Hey, Uncle Gareth.” I paste a smile I practiced back on my face. “Uh… Thank you for coming tonight.”
He chuckles and takes a healthy gulp of his drink. I wonder how many of those he’s had already.
“It’s Gareth for you. I’ve told you so many times, Cece.”
He hasn’t. Maybe once. I also don’t like the way he says my preferred name so patronizingly. But I smile politely and nod. “Sorry… Gareth.”
One more gulp and his glass is empty. I frown at the distance he’s casually closing between us.
“I heard you’re in charge of the financial restructuring for the merger.” He sets his glass on a nearby console table that is absolutely not meant for used dishes.
“I am.” I stand my ground.
He nods thoughtfully and shrugs. “Makes sense. So, you’re looking into the Astor Capital Funds?”
God. Does he know we know? Or that we suspect?
“Uh, yes. We’ve been doing some preliminary audits to understand how we can start the merger process.” I give him an answer I hope he’ll like. But the fact that he’s now only two feet away doesn’t inspire confidence in that statement.
“Mmm.” He smiles, but just as quickly, it drops. “I’ll tell you this once, Cece. It’s not your business poking around such… confidential information—”
Except it’s literally my job.
“—Let us handle the Astor side. And you can handle the Wentworths’. Understand?”
This is a threat, isn’t it?
Jesus.
I didn’t realize he’d be bold enough to do this. At a party. My parents’ party. But I guess alcohol has loosened his tongue.
I exhale sharply, stepping back half a foot, and proceed with a calm I absolutely don’t feel. “We need to do what is required, Gareth. This merger is a major undertaking and I am responsible for overseeing the Astor Capital Fu—”
Suddenly his face twists. He doesn’t even afford me a second to flinch as he lunges.
His fist grabs a handful of the fabric of my dress—right between my breasts. Then he slams me back into the wall. My head snaps against it, pain blooming behind my eyes.
What the fuck? What—
My breath catches. Shock and panic taking hold. I need him off me. My eyes dart around the still empty hallway.
“When I say, mind your business, little Cece, I mean it. Don’t make that mistake, or else.” His voice is low and venomous, almost slurring. His breath is thick with alcohol and cigarettes, enough to make me struggle against a gag.
He shoves me again, harder. My back aches against a random framed painting hanging behind me, and I feel his palm—sweaty, clammy—pressed against my chest.
In a blink, he’s gone. Mumbling something incoherent, he stumbles away, gait swaying enough that he can barely walk in a straight line.
But I’m frozen in place. Still pinned to the wall. Still trembling. Heart racing, breath shallow. My entire body is screaming with pain.
What the hell just happened?
My fingers shake as I adjust my short hair. It’s easily tamed, usually. But now, every movement feels jerky and unnatural. My vision is blurring. And the hot tears? They’re already spilling down my cheeks.
Shit.
I can’t go back there. I can’t go back to forced smiles and champagne flutes and Odette fucking Astor pretending the world revolves around her.
Not when my skin is still crawling from being shoved into a wall by a man of his stature.
Not when my head is pounding from the hit my head took.
Not when my body still remembers the pressure of Gareth’s hand—on my breasts.
My ears are ringing. My breath stutters.
I fumble through my purse, desperate for something to ground me. My keys. I just need to get in my car and breathe and—
Wait. Levi drove me here.
I freeze, a sharp wave of dizziness rushing through me. I shouldn’t be driving like this anyway. I know that. But I also can’t stay here. I can’t go into that room full of people and pretend I’m fine. I can’t do the polite head tilts and glass clinks when I can’t even see properly.
I can’t see, dammit.
My eyes refuse to focus on anything, darting around like I’m underwater. My chest is tightening. That familiar, awful pressure is closing in.
No. No. Breathe.
Only until you get home, Cece.
I stumble forward, clutching my phone, barely able to hit the Uber app. The ride confirms in under a minute, but it feels like a year before it arrives. When it does, I almost crumple with relief.
The car slows to a stop and I rush forward like it’s a lifeline. I yank the door open, voice barely audible. “For Cece?”
The driver nods. That’s all I need.
I slide into the backseat like someone’s chasing me. Like terror itself is clawing at my heels. But I know better. It’s already here. In my chest. Clenched around my lungs. Digging its claws into my breasts.
I can’t have myself fall apart in front of hundreds of people. Especially not the one whose entire career depends on making niceties with this crowd.
So I leave. That’s all I can do.
??????
I stare at my phone listlessly. The chat thread with Levi becoming increasingly loud. There’s a buzzing sound in my ear that won’t go away.
Me: I have to go home. Something urgent came up.
That was thirty-five minutes ago. And since then—
Levi: What? You just left?
Levi: Baby, are you home now?
Levi: Your parents just asked for you. Vi is concerned. Tell me you’re okay at least?
Levi: Please answer me.
One missed call. Two.
Levi: Fucking hell, Cece. Answer me!!!
Levi: This is ridiculous. People are asking me where my fucking fiancée is. We do these things together, Cece.
I know. God, I know. But I couldn’t stay.
I didn’t even realize I had so many messages from him. He’s done this before—left for emergencies, for stress, for family interference. And I’ve always understood. But I’ve never had to do it. I thought he’d understand.
Levi: I’m coming over.
No.
No, no, no.
Shit. He can’t come over now. Not tonight. I haven’t explained everything to him yet. I thought I could hide behind medication and my carefully crafted routine. How the shame of being diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder is larger than any other secret I’ve shared with him.
I can’t. Not yet. Only my sister knows.
I know I’ll tell him. One day I will tell him, when my brain isn’t burning a path out of my skull.
But perhaps I’ve calmed down enough to fake it tonight. Take one breath at a time until I’m in his arms long enough to calm down.
So I wash the makeup off my face, though my blue headband is still stupidly holding my hair back.
Then the door clicks and I can’t help the flinch from locking my muscles.
He’s here.
But unlike the soft click of the door closing, there’s a bang. It’s faint. Echoed. But my ears don’t know the difference anymore. My eyes lose focus suddenly.
“Cece?” His voice is rough with concern—but I can hear the rage behind it. That quiet simmering kind that I’ve only ever heard directed at his parents or Gareth.
Oh God. Gareth. I’ll have to tell him about that too.
I’m sitting at the edge of my bed when the door creaks open. Levi appears in the frame. A picture of control, but his eyes? They’re fire.
He stares at me, taking in the pajamas. My flushed face. The damn blue headband I forgot to take off.
“Wow.” His voice comes out flat. “You needed to do your skincare on time?”
I blink at him.
He frowns harder. “Really, Cece? I know you’re anal about this but… Hell, Uncle Gareth asked me to put a leash on you after you disappeared. In front of both our parents.”
I can’t process what he’s saying. Not yet.
His words are sharp now. Sharper with each syllable he emphasizes on.
He doesn’t know. And I can’t breathe. Not again. Not while he looks at me like I just humiliated him.
I gingerly get up. My knees are stiff from sitting too long and my body feels like it doesn’t quite belong to me. There’s a thick buzzing in my skull—like white noise pressing against the back of my eyes.
I hope my face shows it, what I’m feeling. But I know it doesn’t. It probably just looks blank. Tired. Maybe even irritated.
Levi steps further into the room. “Christ, Cece. Say something! What the fuck happened?”
I walk up to him, slowly. Trying to ground myself in every step. All I want—all I need—is a hug. Just warmth. Just stillness. Just silence wrapped in his arms. So I do the signal.
My fingers reach out and tug gently at the hem of his suit jacket. The same signal I’ve always used. The one he knows. A small tug. A small plea.
Just please hold me.
But… he steps back.
His arms don’t open. His chest doesn’t move forward. There’s no warmth. No quiet. Instead—“Did you have some kind of conversation with Gareth? I don’t think he’d bring you up like that so randomly.”
No. No, no, no. Fuck. That wasn’t what I asked for. That wasn’t what I needed.
He doesn’t know the signal. He doesn’t remember. Or maybe it was never the signal to him. Just a coincidence that made me think he had somehow learned that about me.
I was stupid. So fucking stupid.
He’s still talking. His mouth is moving. The room is moving. My heart is sprinting. And nothing—nothing—is slowing down. The words tangle into themselves.
I hear him, but I can’t hear him. I try to speak. But he is still speaking. And I want to stop the noise. “Stop,” I whisper.
He doesn’t.
“Leave,” I say a little louder.
But he doesn’t move. He’s pacing. Talking. Breathing too loudly. His shoes scrape the floor. The sound vibrates in my skull. The light overhead is buzzing. My phone lights up again—someone’s calling me.
He’s still talking.
So I yell. “Stop. Stop talking. Stop moving. Stop—” My throat clogs. “Stop breathing.”
He jolts like I hit him. “Stop breathing? What the fuck, Cece? Don’t you see—”
Please. No dammit, no.
I can’t take it. The floor feels like it’s spinning. And I can’t seem to find enough air to clear the blackness at the edges of my vision.
His voice—his voice—won’t stop.
I clutch my ears tightly. My fingers press into the side of my head, and I try to curl in on myself on the floor. My body starts to shake, and I know it’s only because the floor is trembling beneath my bare feet.
His voice. The buzz. The light. The call. The sound of my own damn heartbeat.
“Please,” I sob. “Please, please, please stoppppp—”
Finally, he stops. I don’t know when. I only realize it when he crouches in front of me, hands on my shoulder, voice low and panicked now. “God, Cece. Baby… shit. Are you okay? What do you need? What can I do?” He’s still speaking. He’s still talking.
I scream. Not from rage, but from sheer desperation. My hands fly out and I shove him through the doorway. I use all the strength I have left before slamming it shut.
Silence. Yes, silence.
I stumble back. Hands over my ears. Pressing. Shaking. Crying. I don’t want to hear my own sobs. I just need it all to stop.
Please stop.
But then—
Knock.
Knock.
Soft. Too soft.
But it’s loud. It’s so loud.
I whimper. Curling tighter into myself. “S-Stop.” I don’t know if I say it aloud or not. I just want everything to stop moving. For the world to stop spinning. For my eyes to stop seeing. For the sounds to disappear. For everything to reach zero velocity. But it doesn’t.
And all I can do is wait until it does. Hoping the nothingness persists for just a little longer.