The Love That Came Too Late

Chapter 7 Outside the Door

The clamor downstairs gradually faded. The banquet must have ended.

Just as Celia prepared for bed, her phone buzzed with a message from Iris.

Iris: Celia, come to my room. I have got something special for you.

Stepping into the hallway, she froze outside Iris's door. Murmurs and breathless laughter leaked through the wood, a man's low voice entwined with teasing whispers.

"Iris, stop. Celia is right next door."

"She is asleep," Iris purred. "You have not touched me once since she came back, Xavier. I have missed you."

"If she hears."

"Since when do you care?" A wet sniffle followed. Iris's voice thickened with fake tears. "Tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her again? You promised it would only be me."

Xavier sighed, torn between irritation and indulgence. "I did not. Iris, quit the drama."

"Look at that ugly scar on her forehead. Do you think I would want her with that staring back at me?"

A giggle, honey-sweet and triumphant, escaped her lips. "I knew you would choose me. Let me show my gratitude."

The creak of furniture sounded. Fabric whispered against skin.

"Just sit still, Xavier. Let me take care of you."

"Iris, you do not have to."

"I want to," she breathed, her voice dripping with false devotion. "I live to please you."

The room pulsed with hushed moans and the rhythmic creak of the bed.

"Who is prettier? Me or her?"

"You."

"Who feels better?"

"You."

"Then who do you love more?"

A groan escaped him. "You, Iris. Do not stop."

Celia's body locked up, muscles rigid as frozen steel. Her nails bit into her palms as she stumbled back to her room, the night swallowing her whole.

She had thought even a scoundrel like Xavier had some shred of decency left.

The truth hit like a knife twist. The bastard had no bottom line at all.

Dawn had not broken when her phone vibrated with Iris's venomous taunts.

Iris: You heard everything, did you not? Your bed, your man, they are mine now.

Another message followed.

Iris: While you rotted in prison, he warmed my sheets every night.

Iris: Pathetic. You could not even keep him interested. No wonder he devours me like a man possessed.

The final message cut deepest.

Iris: Your career, your father, your man, they all belong to me now, Celia. I will make everyone see the only edge you ever had was your rich mom. You never outshone me.

Celia's hands trembled violently, her fingers clenched around the phone with white-knuckled fury. She barely restrained herself from smashing it against the wall. Minutes crawled by in the suffocating darkness as she forced slow, steady breaths. The red haze of anger slowly cleared from her vision.

Iris was right about one thing. She did have a wealthy mother. But her half-sister remained blissfully unaware that her own lavish lifestyle was not funded by their good-for-nothing father. No, every luxury she paraded came from Celia's mother's inheritance.

Her mother had been as foresighted as a chess grandmaster. Fearing her daughter might one day be wronged, she had planted a legal landmine in her will. And tonight, that clause had just been activated.

With icy precision, Celia scrolled through her contacts and tapped Victor Cross's number. The lawyer answered on the second ring, obedience oozing from every syllable.

"Ms. Hartwell, how may I assist you?"

"Activate the special provision in my mother's will."

"Are you certain, Ms. Hartwell?"

"Absolutely."

The call ended with a decisive click.