Chapter 23 – The Hidden Secret

Celeste sat at the edge of the bed, her gaze empty. The room was so silent that the only sound she could hear was her own unsteady breathing. After what had happened earlier, Alistair had disappeared without a word, leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts.

Who was that man? Why did he look at her as if he knew her? And more importantly—why was Alistair so furious?

She clenched her fingers, trying to remember something—anything—that could explain this situation. But her mind remained blank. Her past was still hazy, as if something had been erased, something missing from her memory.

The door suddenly opened.

Alistair entered with slow steps, but his expression remained the same—cold and sharp. He approached, looking down at Celeste as if trying to read her thoughts.

"You're still thinking about it?" he asked, his voice low yet filled with warning.

Celeste lifted her face. "How could I not?"

Alistair's expression hardened. "I told you to forget about it."

Celeste clenched her fists. "But I can't!" The words came out louder than she intended. "I can't just forget someone who clearly knows me while I can't even remember who I was before I ended up here!"

Alistair didn't answer right away. His eyes searched Celeste's face, his gaze unreadable.

Then, he crouched in front of her, his hands resting on his knees, and looked at her deeply.

"You want to know the truth?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper.

Celeste held her breath, her body tensing.

"There's a reason why you can't remember your past, Celeste." His fingers lifted, gently touching her chin. "And believe me… not knowing is the best thing that could happen to you."

Her heart pounded faster. "What do you mean?"

Alistair sighed before standing up again. "I mean, if you dig too deep, you might not like what you find."

Celeste bit her lip. "So, you know something. You know who I was before all of this happened."

Alistair didn't answer. But his silence was answer enough.

A wave of emotion crashed over Celeste.

"Was I… someone bad in the past?" she asked, her voice weaker than she wanted it to be.

Alistair looked at her, then shook his head slightly. "No," he finally said. "But someone tried to make you believe that you were."

Celeste fell silent. His words hung in the air, creating more questions than answers.

"Get some sleep," Alistair said at last. "I'll take care of everything."

Celeste wanted to protest, to ask more. But she knew Alistair. If he didn't want to talk, nothing could make him.

So, for now, she could only do one thing.

Wait.

Wait until the hidden secret revealed itself.

Celeste fell silent, her heart pounding. Alistair's words still hung in the air, swallowing her in a suffocating silence.

But someone tried to make you believe that you were.

Who? Why?

She stared at Alistair, hoping he would explain further, but he only looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"Alistair… please tell me," her voice trembled. "What really happened to me?"

The man let out a long sigh, as if debating whether he should answer or not. Then, he walked over to a small cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled something out. A worn-out cream-colored envelope, its edges slightly torn and aged.

He tossed it onto the table in front of Celeste.

"Open it," he ordered.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the envelope and pulled out its contents. Inside were several photographs, seemingly taken years ago.

She looked at them.

And her world came to a sudden halt.

In the photo, there was her. She still looked like herself, but with a different aura—softer, more innocent. She wore a simple white dress, standing beside a man who was smiling at the camera.

That man—Celeste knew him.

Malcolm.

Her heartbeat quickened as she picked up another photograph. This time, it was an invitation. The paper had yellowed with age, but the golden lettering was still clear.

Engagement Invitation

Malcolm Everhart & Celeste Laurent

Her head spun. She looked up at Alistair, eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.

"I… I was engaged to Malcolm?" she whispered.

Alistair didn't answer. His jaw tightened, his expression colder than before.

Celeste felt her legs weaken. She couldn't believe this. If she had been engaged to Malcolm, why couldn't she remember? Why was she here, with Alistair?

Her mind was clouded, but faint fragments of memory began to surface—the sound of laughter in a garden, the warmth of a hand holding hers, a pair of gray eyes gazing at her with tenderness.

But then—

Blood.

Darkness.

Pain.

Celeste stumbled back, clutching her head. Something was trying to break free from her mind, but every time she tried to remember, the pain grew unbearable.

"What happened to me…?" she asked hoarsely.

Alistair remained silent for a few moments before finally speaking, his voice low and sharp.

"An accident," he said. "An accident that nearly took your life."

Celeste's eyes widened.

"An accident?"

Alistair nodded. "Someone wanted to make sure you would never remember who you are or who was supposed to be your husband."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. This was too much. Too overwhelming.

"But…" her voice was weak. "That engagement… does it still stand?"

Alistair smirked, but there was no warmth in it. "Do you think I would ever let that happen?"

Celeste froze.

"I don't care who you were before, Celeste," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "What I care about is who you are now. And right now, you are mine."

His.

Her chest tightened.

But one question still echoed in her mind.

If the engagement no longer stood, why was Malcolm still looking for her?

And if she truly had an accident… who was responsible for all of this?