Chapter 3 - Celestine Hides The Bleeding Wrist From Prying Eyes
Celestine pulled Elodie's sleeve down lower over her small hand, trying desperately to conceal the injured wrist from view. The morning sunlight caught the jagged tear in the fabric where the silver identification tag had recently been ripped away.
"Show me her wrist, Celestine," Maren demanded again, his voice dropping into a dangerous, steady register. "I saw the blood on the bracelet, and I know something terrible is happening in this house."
Celestine’s lower lip quivered as she looked down at the four-year-old child shivering in her arms. "The Mercer family demands perfection, Maren, and perfection leaves scars that money can't hide," Celestine whispered bitterly.
"She's four years old, Celestine! Perfection is supposed to be playing with dolls, not bleeding on ballroom floors," Maren shouted angrily. Elodie let out a frightened sob at the sound of raised voices, squeezing her eyes shut.
"If Viktor finds out she has a physical blemish, he will take her away just like he took you," Celestine warned frantically. Maren stopped in her tracks, the name Viktor Mercer hanging like a dark cloud over the cliffside.
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Viktor Mercer was the patriarch of the shipping empire, a man whose word was absolute law across the entire Eastern seaboard. He was the one who had engineered Maren's forced disappearance three years ago with ruthless corporate efficiency.
"Viktor can't touch either of us anymore," Maren lied, though her own knees felt weak beneath her silk dress. Celestine shook her head violently, backing up another dangerous inch toward the edge of the limestone drop.
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