CHAPTER 36: A GIRL LIKE ME

It was rare for everyone to be home.

Dinner at the Moreau mansion was more like a press conference than a meal. The lights were perfect. The table immaculate. The family seated like royalty on a spread that could feed a small country.

Celestia sat in silence, pushing her steak around her plate like it personally offended her.

"Sit up straight," her mother said without even glancing.

Celestia didn’t move.

"You should really eat more," her father added, voice clipped. "You’re still a public figure, whether you like it or not. That dress you wore last week was tight around the waist."

She said nothing. Neither parent looked at her — they never did when they said things like that.

Damien, seated to her right, casually clinked his fork against his glass and muttered, "And once again, the Moreaus bring charm to the table."

Their mother ignored him.

"I ran into Charles Aldridge today," her father continued. "You remember him, don’t you?"

"Unfortunately," Celestia muttered.

"He’s grown. Quite well, actually. His father mentioned he’s looking for someone to settle with soon."

Her mother smiled. "You could do worse, dear. He comes from a strong family. Clean reputation. And he’s easy on the eyes."

"He looked at me like I was a product on a shelf," Celestia said flatly.

"Most men do," her mother said, sipping her wine.

Celestia blinked. "Seriously?"

} "You’re beautiful, Celestia. That’s an asset."

"Is that all I am? A pretty asset to be sold off to the highest bidder with a yacht and a trust fund?"

"Don’t be dramatic," her father sighed. "We’re not asking you to marry anyone. Just... think about it."

"I have thought about it," she said, voice sharper now. "And I’d rather set myself on fire."

"Cel—" Damien started, but her mother raised a hand.

"You’re being childish," her mother said coolly. "All we want is what’s best for you."

Celestia let her fork drop onto her plate. "No. You want what’s best for you. A daughter who’s perfect, brilliant, polished. One who doesn’t talk back. One who doesn’t embarrass you. One who fits into the picture you keep painting like I’m your personal museum piece."

Her father’s jaw twitched. "Your education. Your looks. Your future — we invested everything to make sure you’d never struggle. We gave you everything."

Celestia laughed — cold and hollow. "You gave me everything except a single day where I didn’t feel like a walking brand."

A sharp silence filled the room.

Damien cleared his throat. "Maybe we should—"

"I’m done," Celestia muttered, standing.

Her mother snapped, "You will sit down—"

But she was already gone.

---

Her bedroom door shut with a quiet finality. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.

She just dropped onto her bed, chest tight, eyes burning, heart cracked in places she’d learned to hide.

No one’s ever really wanted me for me.

The thought came out of nowhere. Ugly but honest.

Even the boys who flirted with her — they only wanted the face, the body, the family name. The Moreau girl. The fantasy. Not the girl underneath.

Not the version of her that stayed up late binge-watching anime while hugging a plush frog. Not the her that snorted when she laughed too hard. Not the brat. Not the crazy. Not the chaotic, clingy storm she really was.

Except...

Her fingers found her phone and without thinking, she tapped the familiar name.

Contact Name:Future Husband (You Can’t Escape) 💍🔥💚

That was how she saved my name.

Not Kai, not Babe, not even Virgin Boy #1 — which, honestly, would’ve been more accurate. No, it had to be something that made me question if she was planning our wedding or plotting my murder.

My phone buzzed again.

Incoming Video Call.

I stared at it for a second, considering my options. Decline and die in my sleep? Pick up and maybe still die, but slower?

I sighed and tapped Accept.

Her face popped up on screen, hoodie drowning her head, eyes red like she either cried or fought a raccoon in the dark.

"Hey," she said softly.

"...So who did you stab?" I asked, because I’m thoughtful like that.

She blinked. "What?"

"You’ve got that ’I just buried a body in the garden but now I’m sad about it’ look."

She gave a tiny, tired smile. "No body. Just emotionally wrecked by my lovely family."

"Ah," I nodded. "So like... a regular Thursday."

She laughed a little — not the loud, dramatic kind she usually does. This one was quieter. The kind that made something twist in my chest.

"You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

"It’s a gift," I shrugged. "That and being too broke to get assassinated by your rich family."

Her eyes rolled, but she was still smiling. Barely. "Did I wake you?"

"Only from my peaceful dream about escaping to a desert island with no Wi-Fi and zero yanderes."

"I can hang up—"

"Too late. You already poisoned the atmosphere with your presence. Own it."

She giggled again — tired, but real.

There was a long pause. She didn’t say anything. Just stared.

I could tell. She wasn’t okay and that’s the part that messed me up.

This was Celestia Valentina Moreau. Girl could tear through the gates of hell if it meant getting what she wanted. But right now? She looked like a kid who got told Santa wasn’t real and also that Santa ran a hedge fund and wanted to marry her for business purposes.

"You good?" I finally asked, and yeah — my voice came out a lot softer than I meant.

She curled tighter into her sheets. "I had a long day."

"Want me to call the FBI or just send you memes until you pass out?"

"Neither." She sighed. "I just wanted to see your face."

"...So you could feel better or so you could torment me with emotionally loaded compliments?"

She smiled again.

And that’s the stupid part.

Because I knew what she was doing. I knew how she worked. But still... I always picked up.

Because no matter how crazy she was, no matter how much she scared me...

She always looked at me like I mattered.

Even when the rest of the world treated her like a doll on display.

And maybe — just maybe — that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to let go.

---

To be continued...