CHAPTER 2: The Confession She Would Not Sign
The paper Celeste placed on the coffee table was already prepared.
Naomi could see the words even through the blur of tears: theft, resignation, no claim, no contact, voluntary departure. Each sentence was a trap dressed in legal language. At the bottom, Celeste had left one empty line for Naomi’s signature.
Naomi stayed on the floor, one arm wrapped around her stomach. The baby kicked once, sharp and frightened, and she pressed her palm there as if she could shield him from the room.
“I told you,” Naomi whispered. “I didn’t take your bracelet.”
Celeste crouched just enough to keep her white suit from touching the soup-splattered marble.
“My bracelet doesn’t matter,” she said. “What matters is that Adrian believes you took it.”
Naomi looked up.
The name still hurt.
Adrian Blackwood had once promised her that no one in his world would ever make her feel small. He had said it in a courthouse hallway two years ago, after they signed a private marriage license before he left for a long acquisition deal overseas. He had kissed her hand and called her his wife.
Then he vanished behind lawyers, canceled calls, and letters that never reached him.
When Naomi came to the mansion looking for answers, Celeste met her at the gate and called her a liar. A month later, desperate and pregnant, Naomi accepted a housekeeping position under a fake last name just to stay close enough to learn the truth.
Now the truth was kneeling in soup.
“You forged the divorce papers,” Naomi said.
Celeste’s smile faded for only a second.
Then she slapped the confession down in front of her.
“Sign it, or I’ll tell everyone you tried to trap my husband with another man’s child.”
May you like
Naomi’s fingers trembled.
But she did not reach for the pen.
