Chapter 25 – An Inescapable Fate

Celeste remained frozen in place, her breaths short and uneven. Her eyes were locked onto the now-black screen, as if her mind refused to accept the reality that had just unfolded.

Malcolm tried to kill her.

The man she had once been arranged to marry, the man whose presence still lingered in the fractured pieces of her memory… had wanted to ensure she did not survive.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk, trembling.

"No… no, he wouldn't—" she whispered.

"But he did."

Alistair's deep voice filled the room, reverberating against the walls that suddenly felt like they were closing in on her. Celeste lifted her gaze to him, her eyes brimming with confusion, fear, and despair.

Alistair's face remained unreadable, but his piercing stare stripped away every emotion she tried to conceal.

"I don't remember anything," Celeste murmured. "I don't even remember how I met him… or how I ended up engaged to him."

Alistair stepped closer, his towering presence exuding something dangerous.

"That's exactly what he wanted," he said quietly. "He didn't want you to remember anything. Because if you did… you would have rejected him. You would have chosen me."

Celeste's breath caught. "What are you saying?"

A faint smirk curled at Alistair's lips—one that was almost a sneer.

"You don't remember, do you? How you refused that engagement? How you chose me? How you came to me?"

Celeste stiffened.

She swallowed hard. "I… I don't remember."

Alistair raised a hand, his fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"But your body remembers, Celeste," he murmured. "Your heart knows. You could never belong to anyone else."

A shiver ran down her spine.

There was something in his voice—so absolute, so commanding—that left no room for denial or escape.

"Don't try to run from me," he continued, his tone dipping lower, darker. "Because I won't let you go. I won't let Malcolm touch you again. You belong to me."

Celeste struggled to take a breath, but her chest felt tight.

Everything about this felt wrong. And yet…

Something about it felt undeniably right.

Something that tethered her to this man.

Alistair leaned in, his lips barely brushing against her ear.

"You can lie to yourself, Celeste… but you can't lie to me."

Celeste bit her lip, trying to suppress the storm raging inside her.

What truly happened in her past?

And more importantly…

If Alistair was telling the truth, then that meant…

They had been bound together long before she lost her memories.

Celeste felt as if her body was frozen in place. Alistair's piercing gaze held her like invisible chains, keeping her rooted where she stood. His words still echoed in her mind, throwing her thoughts into further disarray.

"You can lie to yourself, Celeste… but not to me."

Had she really chosen Alistair before the accident? Had she truly rejected Malcolm? If that was the case, why was this fear wrapping around her—something far deeper than just the fear of losing her memories?

Alistair touched her chin, tilting her face up so their eyes met.

"What are you thinking right now, hmm?" His voice was low, a whisper against the dangerously close distance.

Celeste swallowed hard.

"I just want to know…" her voice trembled. "If I really chose you, why don't I remember how I felt about you?"

Alistair smirked, but there was no warmth in it—only a deep, unwavering dominance.

"Do you think I care whether you remember or not?" he said. "To me, you've been mine from the very beginning. Whether you remember it or not doesn't change that fact."

Celeste's heart pounded faster.

Alistair wasn't just claiming her. He was treating her as something that had been decided long ago, as if their fate had been locked in place with no room for change.

He turned away, allowing the cold air to replace the fleeting warmth of his presence.

"I could tell you everything," he said as he walked to the small bar in the corner of the room, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. "How you came to me, how you begged me to free you from that ridiculous engagement."

Celeste clenched her fists. "I won't believe it so easily."

Alistair chuckled, the sound deep and haunting. "I'm not asking you to believe it. I just want you to understand, Celeste…" He turned back to her, his eyes darker than before. "That no matter what happened in the past, I will never let you go back to him."

A chill ran down Celeste's spine.

"What do you mean?"

Alistair stepped closer, standing right in front of her. "I can make sure Malcolm never touches you again."

Celeste's breath hitched.

"You wouldn't…"

Alistair cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with a dangerous gentleness.

"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Celeste. Even if that means erasing every possibility of you ever leaving."

Celeste's eyes widened.

The unspoken threat was clear.

Alistair didn't just want to have her—he wanted to make sure there were no other choices left.

No way back.

No chance for Malcolm to reclaim her.

Celeste felt her throat go dry.

She was trapped.

And maybe… she had been trapped from the very beginning.