“A scene?” He looked at her so coldly that she stepped back. “My son has just recognized the mother I believed was dead. And you call this a scene?”
One of the guards moved toward Celeste, but she suddenly laughed.
A nervous, loud, ugly laugh.
“You are all fools. Especially you, Damian. For two years you were a broken man. I put you back together. I was there. I endured his tantrums. I endured this house, where everything still smelled of her!”
She pointed sharply at Eliza.
“And now she simply walks in here wearing a maid’s uniform, and you look only at her again?”
Damian went pale.
“What did you do?”
Celeste fell silent.
And that silence was enough.
Later, when the police took her away from the mansion, the house still smelled of rain, fireplace smoke, and shattered crystal.
But the truth was only beginning to emerge.
In the library, Eliza sat on the sofa wrapped in a blanket. Oliver was asleep on her lap, holding her hand even in his sleep. Damian stood opposite her, afraid to come closer.
“I searched for you,” he said at last. “For months. I hired people. I checked every hospital. I did not want to believe you were dead.”
Eliza lifted her eyes to him.
“But eventually, you did.”
Those words hurt worse than a slap.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I did. Because everyone around me kept telling me there was no hope.”
“And Celeste helped you survive your grief.”
Damian closed his eyes.
“I was weak.”
“You were broken.”
“That is not an excuse.”
Eliza looked down at their sleeping son.
“I did not know if you would believe me. I had no documents. No proof. Only a face everyone thought belonged to a dead woman.”
At that moment, a heavy thud sounded above them.
Then another.
The lights flickered and went out.
Oliver woke with a scream.
From the hallway came the shriek of the security alarm.
A maid ran into the library.
“Sir! The back door has been forced open!”
Damian changed instantly. The man crushed by guilt became the master of the house, ready to protect his family at any cost.
“Lock the doors. Let no one in.”
But before he could finish, a gunshot thundered upstairs.
Oliver screamed.
Then Celeste’s voice came through the security speakers.
“If this family will not be mine, it will belong to no one.”
Damian ran toward the staircase.
Eliza grabbed his hand.
“Do not go alone.”
“Stay with Oliver.”
“I have already lost two years. I will not lose you too.”
But he had already disappeared into the dark corridor.
Upstairs, the mansion had turned into hell. Red emergency lights flashed against the walls. Smoke crawled along the ceiling. Somewhere, guests were screaming. Celeste stood in the west wing near the old nursery, a gun in one hand and a lighter in the other.
At her feet, liquid gleamed.
Gasoline.
“You chose her,” she said when she saw Damian.
“You destroyed everything yourself.”
“I loved you!”
“No. You wanted to own me.”
Celeste smiled through her tears.
“And her? Do you think she is just some poor victim? You do not even know why her car went off the road.”
Damian froze.
“What did you say?”
Celeste lowered her eyes.
“I was only supposed to scare her. The car was supposed to stop. She was supposed to disappear from your life for a while. But the brakes failed worse than I expected.”
Damian’s face turned deathly pale.
“You staged the accident?”
“I did not mean to kill her!”
“You took my son’s mother from him.”
Celeste began to tremble.
“I wanted to become her.”
For one second, something almost human appeared in her eyes. Then the madness returned.
She opened the lighter.
“Then we will all burn together.”
The flames spread instantly.
Fire raced across the carpet, climbed the curtains, and licked the wooden panels. Damian lunged forward and knocked the gun from her hand, but the ceiling above them was already cracking from the heat.
Downstairs, Eliza heard the explosion.
“Daddy!” Oliver cried. “Daddy is up there!”
Eliza did not think. She handed her son to the maid and ran upstairs.
Smoke burned her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears. But she followed Damian’s voice until she saw him through the fire.
Celeste was trapped beneath a burning beam.
Damian was trying to pull her free.
“Leave me,” Celeste rasped.
“I will not let you die.”
She looked at Eliza.
“He never forgot you.”
Eliza said nothing.
“I hated you for that,” Celeste whispered. “Even when you were gone, you were still here.”
The ceiling groaned.
Eliza grabbed Damian.
“We have to go!”
“I cannot leave her.”
Celeste suddenly gave a weak smile.
“You can. For once, choose correctly.”
The flames rose like a wall.
Damian made one last attempt, but the beam would not move.
“Go,” Celeste said. “Save her. Save the boy.”
One minute later, the west wing collapsed.