Ch. 44 A Fish In The Net
A delicious scent wafts to my nose, and I can't help but snuggle closer to the source. Arms tighten around me and warmth fills my chest.
A rhythm beats by my ear and a sense of calm and safety settles over me.
I inhale deeply... Marcus.
My eyes drift open. My head is against his chest, his beating heart so clearly audible.
I lift my head a little and study his face. He looks—peaceful. Content.
Nothing like when he was thrashing in bed tortured by nightmares.
His bangs cover his eyes, and I gently tuck them away.
His eyes slowly open, and his lips curve into a smile so happy, so open, my heart skips a beat.
"You're really here..." He whispers. I can't help but caress his face.
"Where else would I be?" I whisper back.
A shadow crosses his eyes before clearing out. "I thought I was dreaming...I didn't want to wake up..." He continues whispering, as if afraid to break the spell.
I peck him on the lips.
"I chose you. I'm not prone to changing my mind."
His eyes shine. "Me neither..." He inhales deeply. "Are you sure?"
I nod.
"Can I tell you something?" He's looking at me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen.
"Sure."
"I'm happy to be in debt to you. I'm grateful to you for saving me. I'm coming to realize...not all debts are bad."
I'm not sure what he's trying to say. He seems to get that. He smiles.
"Sure they can be painful... but sometimes, they also pull people together."
He caresses my hair. I can see it in his eyes—he doesn't mean just me, but also his found family.
"I think...we found our way to each other because of the debts between us—even the ones we couldn't see."
He looks like he's searching for the right words.
"To me, owing you means being irrevocably tied to you—and I wouldn't want to change that for anything. I just wish you'd never gotten hurt. That I'd had the wisdom to not hurt you."
His gaze is reverent as he kisses my temple and pulls me close.
Something clicks deep within me.
He's right...maybe...not all debts are bad. And maybe...some debts can evolve to become something greater... more meaningful—like a true connection.
A peace like I've never known descends over me.
I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off, not knowing what Coleman has in store for us.
—----------------------
Just this once, I allow myself to sleep in.
I don't dare move, in case I jostle Celeste and disturb her rest. At this moment, I wouldn't care if the world fell apart, as long as I got to hold her close.
Celeste eventually turns over, and a tsunami of emotions takes over. I have things I want to do for her, but that requires getting out of bed and stepping away from her.
Eventually, the desire to take care of her wins, and I get up.
The moment I'm out of the bedroom, I text Ella.
Ella's response is immediate.
I can't help but smile. I feel...at peace.
Three dots flicker. Stop. Flicker again.
The next few texts follow with a detailed recipe that even I'm unlikely to screw up.
So I get cracking.
But before that—
The fury that has been building within me demands to be acknowledged.
Every. Single. Thing.
I know what Kyle is asking, and it doesn't matter. Nothing matters other than the fact that they tried to hurt Celeste.
Three dots flicker. Disappear. Reappear.
I return to the kitchen and my pancake mix. Time to take care of my Celeste.
—----------------
This was the first time Marcus ever asked something from me, and I'll be damned if I don't deliver.
The truth's out now—well, at least we know it.
I know I have the most to make up for. I've been so embarrassed.
Ken comes over and pecks my cheek while I read through my chats—looking for anything we might have missed.
"Still hunting for that girl?" He drops down next to me on the couch.
"Yeah. It's like she disappeared off the face of the earth. One second she was working for Celeste, and the next, gone? It's really strange. Even her socials are silent."
Ken nods thoughtfully. "When people have nowhere to turn to, they generally find themselves back home. Where is she from?"
It's like a light bulb goes off. I scroll through her instagram—post after post—until I find it.
Her third post after opening her account.
She's standing in front of a cottage with a young lady who's making a huge splash in the modelling world.
Only one word in the caption—home.
Unfortunately, it's not geo-tagged. No sweat.
I pull up a contact I haven't spoken to in a long while—the head of the best modelling agency in London—and hit 'dial'.
After I hang up, I smooch Ken for his help.
Marissa Grey—come out and play.
—--------------
Digging into this man's records show he's just a pawn caught in a bigger game.
The amount paid to him matches the annual tuition and expenses for his daughter to keep attending the prep school she's currently in.
"Mr. Reid. I'm going to make this offer once—and only once. Tell me everything, and I'll see what I can do to help you with a reduced charge.
"Do you think your daughter wants you to end up in jail simply so she could attend a private prep school?"
Mr. Reid's eyes shine, and I feel like a slime ball for using his family against him.
"Mr. Lowell, please." His fear and grief make his voice shudder.
"Tell me everything."
"I asked Dr. Abernathy for a raise, because it was getting more and more difficult to manage my daughter's tuition in the salary I was being paid. It was Dr. Abernathy, who got her into the school, so I was hoping he might help.
"He refused the raise. A few days later, he called me into his office to tell me there was a way for me to make my daughter's tuition.
"He told me I had to take an envelope from the teacher's lounge and drop it into a particular locker. I don't even know who that locker belonged to.
"That's all I did. Ten times I couriered an envelope to a locker. That's all I know. I swear."
His voice breaks, tears streaming down his face.
"Do you remember the locker number?"
"346. It was different in the later years. But the first three years, it was 346."
"Thank you, Mr. Reid. Someone will be along shortly."
"Wait! Wait! I told you everything I know!"
I look at the one way glass window in the interrogation room. They'll already be looking into the locker assignments during those years.
I gather my papers and get up.
"Please wait here."
I step out, Reid's broken sobs echoing behind me.
I escape to an emergency exit, and lean against the wall. It never gets easier to deal with victims of circumstance.
John Reid was just trying to take care of his family. It's people like William Kent and Dean Abernathy who deserve to be broken in an interrogation room.
I steady my breathing and compose my expression before getting back to the main building.
A rookie officer heads towards me, a fresh print in hand.
"We checked the records. The locker belonged to Madison Kent."
My lips part in a sharp exhale. We did it. We found the smoking gun.
We have Madison dead to rights.
—-----------------
The sweet scent of pancakes invades my dreams. A soft sizzle reaches my ears, pulling me to the surface.
I stretch in bed, stomach growling.
When I open my eyes, the sun is much higher up in the sky.
For a few seconds, I can't make sense of where I am. I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes.
And then everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours hits me.
Marcus is my boyfriend now.
Heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks. And he's doing something in the kitchen.
I push back the blanket I don't remember needing and rush out.
The scent hits me so hard, I'm salivating by the time I get to the kitchen.
Two pancakes sit in a plate on the dining table—one's edges are a bit too crispy—but they look edible.
The kitchen is a mess. The counter looks like a bag of flour exploded. Marcus has flour on his face, clothes and hair.
There's a stack of nearly burnt pancakes by the sink. Marcus manages to flip the third one—barely burning it at all.
He has a goofy grin on his face. He's clearly having the time of his life.
He finally flips the pancake onto a plate and turns to bring it out—spotting me.
I already have one stuffed into my mouth.
"Thish ish gooood." I speak with my mouth full. My cheeks are puffed like a pufferfish and I don't care.
These pancakes are delicious.
He pulls out his phone with one hand and captures a picture.
"Hey!" I raise my hand to ask for his phone, but he hands me the pancake instead.
That also works. Then he walks to me and plants a floury kiss on my cheek.
I smile. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I can't. I even managed to mess up Ella's foolproof recipe. They don't look too bad though."
"Mmm. They're good. But maybe we should start by Marcus-proofing the kitchen."
He gives me a sheepish grin and goes back to cooking.
I fill my stomach with extra-crispy pancakes and head to the living room that's already been cleaned and tidied. I'm supposed to head to work. Sigh.
"I'll join you once I clean up the kitchen. Then we can get you home."
"I should get to work—at some point today."
"Yeah, about that—I called your boss and told them you were out sick."
"Oh? Is that right? Nice. Then I'll just vegetate at my boyfriend's today."
I splay my arms out and spread my legs wide. A laugh escapes his lips as he points at me with a sponge in hand. "Don't be giving me ideas, woman. I'll be there in a bit."
I raise my arm in a thumbs up, and pull his TV remote to me.
The screen is still broken from last night's...assault...but I decide to try anyway.
It powers on, still logged on the news channel Marcus was likely watching yesterday. The picture is completely fractured, and half the screen is static, but the audio seems to be working—mostly.
"....brought to my attention—Ms. Celeste Shaw was expelled from high school for framing a fellow student of cheating.
"A student that is now willing to destroy his company's reputation over her."
Reporters yell in the pause, but their questions dissolve in the static.
"Yes—you guessed it right. Marcus Holden is the student who was falsely framed of cheating by none other than the woman he gave up a deal with us for—Celeste Shaw."
Coleman's fragmented face on the TV twists even further.
"One has to wonder if Marcus Holden is truly unaware, or just plain stupid. And how devious does one have to be to try and ruin the same person twice?"
The remote slips from my fingers and the blood drains from my face.
This can't be happening.
Marcus rushes out of the kitchen, hands still wet.
He looks as shocked as I feel. He unplugs the TV and comes to sit beside me.
"Celeste. Celeste."
I slowly turn to him. My vision's blurry. Everything I worked for—lost.
"How did he even find out?"
"I think he already knew. Remember—you told me, Boon knew way back then. I think he was waiting for a chance to weaponize it."
He takes my hand in his. "We'll prove your innocence. I promise."
I pull my hand away. "How?"
My voice is a whisper I can barely hear. Marcus pulls me into his arms and holds me while I sob into them.
It's the constant buzzing of his phone that finally brings me back to the present.
Before he can answer, the call ends and a text pops up.