TWENTY-SIX
Cece
This has been the longest time I’ve spent not sparing Levi a single glance.
But the moment he enters the living room again, I can’t help but lift my gaze. He looks haggard. Like someone stripped him ruthlessly of his own weight.
I can’t seem to look away from the helplessness lining every wrinkle of his face. He isn’t looking at me. But I notice how his body language is closely attuned to my every move.
“I’ll go fucking talk to him,” Vi says, making me flinch immediately in her embrace.
“Vi—”
I try to stop her, but she’s already striding toward the wreckage that Levi looks. I don’t understand it. But I know something must have happened to have him drowning like this.
“Levi,” Vi says coldly.
He startles for half a second before swallowing hard and nodding to her. “Vi—Vivienne. How are you? How’s school?”
“Fantastic,” she chirps, before plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to her.
I numbly take a seat in the armchair, watching him stumble at my sister’s borderline rude command. She used to idolize him. I’m hoping she still does.
He looks over at me, but not my face. It’s almost as though he can’t bring himself to actually look at me.
“Listen, Vi—”
“Oh, I’ll be doing the talking,” she says firmly in her very young, overly confident voice. “First, where’s your girlfriend? She disappeared pretty much immediately after that photoshoot you both had.”
My God.
He blinks rapidly, frowning. My heart goes out to him. But I can’t help but lower my gaze. Words have been failing me in his presence, and I’m usually able to put up a front with everyone. But with him, my whole body collapses into what it’s meant to do.
My masks fail.
And I know why. It’s because there’s nowhere for me to escape to. Home was something where I’d let myself be somewhere between the medicated poise and undiluted carnage.
Now he’s in all of those spaces.
How did I ever think I’d be able to live with him without letting him see the real me?
I hear his fierce voice. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
I finally look up at him. His intent gaze pinned on me.
“She’s your ex-girlfriend, though,” Vi points out. “So, where is she?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. She left Canada and quit her job. According to Taewon, she’s in LA.”
My eyes widen. “She quit? Why?”
Vi pins me with a look that says why do you think?
Levi simply shrugs. “I didn’t ask. It wasn’t important.”
That’s when I notice his hands. Nervously pinching the hem of his shirt. Tugging and pulling—and wincing every time he does.
“Do you love her? Miss her? Think about her? Want her back?” Vi asks in a firm, rapid-fire manner.
He finally lets go of his shirt. “The answer to all those questions is no. No, I don’t. I love your sister. I miss Cece. I constantly think about Cece. I want Cece… back.”
Vi frowns at him even as he stares back at her with an intent gaze. I almost feel like my facial muscles would allow me a smile. But all I feel is a twitch on my nose.
The sheer uncertainty emanating from Levi has me on edge. He isn’t his usual self, and I find myself wanting to hug him all the same.
My stomach sinks when a random thought hits me. Does he also have a signal? Did I miss it because I was too selfish to realize it?
Is it disgustingly hypocritical of me to hold something against him when I might have missed something so crucial about him?
I gulp hard, almost audibly, that both of their heads snap to me. My whole body itches as I shoot up, unable to stay in their vicinity. Whatever semblance of a mask I have, I’ll use it.
If only to get through this dinner I had no plans to attend.
Before I head to the dining area, walking past Vi, I mumble. “Behave, alright.”
She rolls her eyes. “I will.”
“I promise,” Levi says at the same time.
If I were even remotely in the mood, I’d be amused. Maybe even manage a chuckle at his immediate response. But nothing is getting past this fog that keeps rising up.
Half an hour later, we’re all sitting around the massive dining table, Levi right next to me. The clink of silver cutlery is all I can hear. Occasionally, my father would make a remark that forces me to join in. But I remain quiet for the most part.
If it wasn’t for the three glasses of wine thrumming in my veins, I’d probably be screaming at everyone to shut the hell up.
Thank you, Cabernet Sauvignon.
A slight warmth has taken over my face. Enough that I don’t even mind the errant strands of my too-long hair that keep bugging my eyes.
“When are you holding the press conference?” Dad asks, the question clearly directed at Levi.
He clears his throat, gently squeezing my thigh under the table. “By the end of this week, Samuel. I wanted to have some alignment with you before I arrange it.”
My body locks up. Here it comes.
“Alignment?” Mom asks, her confused gaze darting between the two of us.
“There have been some changes since…” Levi begins. “Well, since the arrests were made. My lawyers and I have talked at length and—”
“I know you’re trying to get rid of the clause,” Dad cuts in smoothly. “But that doesn’t… does it affect anything else?”
A weighted silence takes over. I have half a mind to join in. Perhaps the blow would be lessened if it came from me. But I don’t get a chance to even form a sentence in my head and gather any courage to make my lips move. Because Levi answers in his practiced, smooth voice.
“We’re holding off on all capital transfers, Mr. Wentworth. That means—”
My father lets his fork clatter on his plate. “Are you saying you’re backing off on the merger?”
I’ve never heard my father sound this enraged. His jaw is clenched, hands gripping the edge of the table. Mom immediately steps in, squeezing his shoulder gently.
“Levi, are you… are you seriously considering canceling the merger? The thing you’ve been working on for a year?”
“Not canceled, Mrs. Wentworth. Just postponed—”
My father scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Postponed. Right. You think we don’t see what’s happening? You think we’re blindly letting your company consume ours? The merger was to ensure that Wentworths take over your broken management and fix your goddamn real estate vertical.”
God. That’s not even remotely close to the truth. I guess their pride has made them reframe reality to whatever was palatable to them. Enough for them to hand over their life’s work to a business that’s known to acquire rather than merge.
And now, that same business is buried under a scandal that might take Wentworths down with them.
Why aren’t they relieved?
My thoughts halt immediately as another one comes crashing through. A smirk pulls at my lips, and I continue decimating the pasta in front of me, shaking my head.
“Anything to say, Celestine?”
I flinch, but not vigorously enough to give my mother any satisfaction of her barb hitting the mark.
“It’s just…” I mumble through a mouthful of food, completely ‘uncouth’ as Odette Astor would say.
“Your disappointment is valid, Dad. Because now you can’t take advantage of the situation, have the power lie firmly with the Wentworth Group instead of Astor Holdings. I get it. I’d be disappointed too.”
Gasps. All around the table. But Vi simply stares at me wide-eyed, her lips twitching into a smile she’s trying desperately to curb.
“My word, Cece,” my mother says, gaping at me.
Oh, so you are capable of using my preferred name.
I simply shrug, taking a large gulp of my wine.
She clicks her tongue. “You’re too drunk to make sense anyway. Sam, you shouldn’t—”
Before I can respond, my father jumps in.
“She’s right, Elle,” he says gruffly. “It’s… yeah, she’s right.”
I startle at my father’s immediate submission. It’s not like him to agree so quickly to his failings. And I realize it’s something I’ve always admired in him. Even if he miserably failed to see my failings.
“Honey, ignore her. She’s not doing that well and—”
I bristle at my mother’s sugary sweet voice and end up refilling my glass to the brim.
“Mrs. Wentworth, she’s doing absolutely fine,” Levi snaps, his voice low and measured. “But yes, we’ll be postponing this merger. And revisit the terms when everything is… more stable.”
My father nods defeatedly. “That’s… fine, I guess.”
Then he looks at Levi with a firm, unrelenting stare. “I’m assuming this means the wedding is off?”
Vi sputters, coughing and failing to keep her wine inside her mouth.
Levi stiffens beside me, glaring back at my father.
And I? I raise my brows, nodding as I shrug. Because it makes sense. What’s the point of marriage when the merger isn’t running the show?
My reaction seems to push Levi further down the edge he was already dangling on. I can feel his frame vibrating with so much fury that I have half a mind to pull him into a hug.
His heart rate must be through the roof.
“That is not up for discussion, Mr. Wentworth,” Levi grits out, his jaw clenched. “I’m marrying your daughter with or without the merger.”
Oh, of course. The clause isn’t gone yet.
But Vi lets out a poorly-timed hoot, which my parents promptly ignore.
“But… there’s no need to—”
I laugh harshly, effectively cutting off my mother’s stammering words. The bitterness in my voice needs to be studied. It’s not something that has ever surfaced in front of my parents. Let alone in the presence of ‘company’.
“The wedding has nothing to do with the merger, Mom,” I say, still chuckling. Still drinking between every syllable. “Honestly, don’t concern yourself about it. I’m sure the arrangement will die a natural death.”
I have no idea why the words spill over. But they do. And now it’s too late for me to take them back.
I can feel Levi’s heated glare on the side of my face. His frustration is palpable as he lets out a harsh exhale. “I think we’ll head home.”
“Why?” I ask belligerently. “This was just getting good.”
I’m not sure if I’m talking about the conversation or the wine. But both are giving me the buzz I want to drown in.
“Baby,” he sighs, exasperated. “You’re drunk. Let’s just… let’s go home, yeah?”
“What—wait!” my mother snaps. “You can’t leave dinner. I’ve been planning this for a week.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh, tipping my head back toward the ceiling. “And you told me about it yesterday, huh? Well, I showed up anyway. Mission accomplished.”
“Cece—” I swat Levi’s hand away when he tries to steady me when I shoot up from my chair. The movement sends it scraping harshly against the floor.
My ravioli sits forgotten on the table while another laugh tears out of me—too sharp, too brittle to sound sane.
“My God, Mom.” I shake my head slowly. “What? You thought you cracked some code? Found the perfect loophole to make me comply while conveniently dismissing everything I struggle with?”
Both my parents rise immediately.
Vi moves closer to me without hesitation, silently sidling up to my side before I even ask.
Fuck you, Seroquel.
Fuck you for flattening this part of me for so long. The part that can finally look my parents in the eye instead of quietly folding.
Because I’ve known about my mother’s little tactics for years. I just let them happen because somewhere along the way, they started sounding reasonable.
Yes, if she gave me too much notice, I’d spiral over an event until I found a way to avoid it.
Yes, I carefully controlled my schedule because unpredictability made my skin crawl. Anxiety rising through the roof.
But none of that gave my own damn mother the right to manipulate me into attendance like I’m some difficult child she has to outsmart. Especially when that schedule has completely fallen apart since I stopped taking my meds.
I’m done. I’m fucking done. Done pretending everyone gets to dance around my mental health while I politely absorb it.
“I was diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder eight years ago,” I say flatly.
Every expression freezes.
Every breath stills.
Good.
“I also have an avoidant attachment style and symptoms that overlap with several other disorders.” My voice sounds detached even to me. “I was on Aripiprazole for a year before switching to Seroquel. They’re antipsychotics, by the way.” I smile. “You know. Psychotic.”
My mother visibly flinches.
“You called me that once, remember?” I let out a soft laugh. “Hah.”
Shock floods both their faces quickly. My father looks horrified. My mother just looks… lost.
And suddenly, I can’t tell if they’re disgusted, ashamed, guilty, or simply stunned that the daughter they ignored to build their empire, the one they curated so carefully, turned out mentally ill anyway.
Vi’s hand tightens around my arm.
Levi’s arm circles my waist again, carefully, like he thinks I might collapse if he lets go.
I manage not to sway.
But now that the words are out there, I feel myself shutting down in real time.
The anger drains first.
Then the alcohol I was leaning on.
Then everything else.
I step back before anyone can say anything. Before anyone can pity me.
Before anyone can try to fix this.
“Cece—” my mother whispers brokenly.
But I don’t stop walking.
“Have fun on WebMD,” I mutter and leave the room.