Chapter 6 - A Daughter’s Choice
The Harrington mansion in Chestnut Hill was drowning in darkness.
In the master study, Vivian Harrington paced behind her massive glass desk like a caged tiger. Her silver hair was unstyled, her silk blouse unbuttoned at the collar, her eyes bloodshot with rage and panic.
On the television mounted on the wall, a local news anchor was speaking in hushed, dramatic tones:
“...breaking news regarding the abrupt cancellation of the high-society wedding between Grant Whitmore and Celeste Harrington today at the St. Regis. Sources confirm allegations of grand-scale fraud and forged paternity documents involving prominent Boston families...”
Vivian grabbed a crystal glass from her desk and hurled it at the television screen. The glass shattered, spider-webbing the display before the screen went black.
“Useless fools!” Vivian spat, gripping the edges of her desk.
The door to the study opened slowly.
Celeste stood in the doorway, wearing a simple black dress, her eyes swollen and dark. She held a small, silver USB flash drive in her hand.
Vivian spun around. “Celeste! Where have you been? The attorneys have been calling for three hours! We need to release a press statement immediately claiming that Elena Mercer fabricated those documents!”
Celeste walked into the room slowly, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. She didn't look afraid anymore. She looked hollow.
“It’s over, Mother,” Celeste said quietly.
“It is not over!” Vivian shouted, coming around the desk. “The Whitmores need our voting proxy for the Q4 board meeting! Grant is emotional right now, but once his mother talks sense into him—”
“Grant isn't going to talk to you ever again,” Celeste interrupted, her voice entirely flat. “Neither is his family. Neither is the city.”
Vivian stepped into Celeste’s space, her fingers digging painfully into her daughter’s shoulder. “You listen to me, girl! I built this empire for you! Every lie I told, every contract I altered, every dollar I moved, I did so you would sit at the top of Boston society!”
Celeste looked down at her mother’s hand on her shoulder.
“You didn't do it for me, Mother,” Celeste whispered. “You did it because you couldn't bear the thought of anyone having more power than you.”
Celeste lifted her right hand, showing Vivian the silver USB drive.
Vivian’s eyes narrowed instantly. “What is that?”
“It’s the backup drive from your private safe,” Celeste said smoothly. “The one behind the oil painting in the library. The one containing the original wire transfer receipts to Dr. Harrison, the encrypted emails, and the stolen Mercer Maritime contract.”
Vivian went deathly pale. “Give that to me.”
“No,” Celeste said.
Vivian lunged forward, her hands clawing for the drive. “Give it to me, you ungrateful brat!”
Celeste stepped back swiftly, dodging her mother’s frantic reach. She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it up.
“I’m on a live call with Daniel Whitmore,” Celeste said, her voice trembling slightly, but holding firm. “He’s sitting outside our gate right now with two federal investigators.”
Vivian froze, her hands hovering in the air, her breathing ragged and wild. “Celeste... you are my daughter... you wouldn't destroy your own mother...”
Tears welled up in Celeste’s eyes, but she didn't step backward.
“You destroyed me years ago, Mother,” Celeste said softly. “You taught me that love was something you buy, manipulate, and trade. I lost the only man I ever cared about because I was too weak to stand up to you.”
Celeste turned toward the study door.
“Celeste! Come back here! Celeste!” Vivian screamed, her voice echoing through the empty halls of the mansion.
Celeste walked down the grand staircase, opened the front doors, and stepped out into the pouring rain.
Waiting at the bottom of the steps was Daniel Whitmore, standing beside a black sedan.
Celeste walked up to him, held out the silver USB drive, and placed it into his hand.
“Take it,” Celeste whispered, her shoulders sagging as if a crushing weight had finally been lifted from her soul. “Make sure Elena gets her family’s legacy back.”
May you like
Daniel looked at the flash drive, then at Celeste’s soaked, shivering frame. He reached into his coat, pulled out an umbrella, and held it over her head.
“Thank you, Celeste,” Daniel said quietly. “You did the right thing.”
