Chapter 19 - The Words She Couldn't Take BackCeleste arrived at Leah's cottage on a Sunday afternoon without an invitation.
She parked her white SUV near the garden gate and walked toward the front door.
Leah answered.
"Celeste."
"Where's Grant?"
"He isn't expecting you."
"I didn't ask whether he was expecting me."
Leah remained in the doorway.
"Ella is here. I don't want an argument."
Celeste looked past her.
"Am I not allowed to see my own stepdaughter?"
"Not without arrangements Grant and the professionals responsible for Ella's safety agree are appropriate."
Celeste's expression darkened.
"I have rights."
"Then speak to your lawyer."
Leah started to close the door.
Celeste caught the edge with her palm.
"Tell Grant I know what he's doing."
Leah looked at the hand against the door.
"Move your hand."
Celeste held her gaze.
Then she stepped back.
"Tell him he can't keep everything."
She returned to her car and drove away.
Leah locked the door.
Inside, Ella stood at the end of the hallway.
She had heard Celeste's voice.
Her face was pale.
Leah knelt.
"You're safe, sweetheart."
Ella looked toward the door.
"Will she come back?"
Leah took her hand.
"If she does, we won't let her frighten you."
Ella nodded.
But that night, she slept with the lamp on.
Grant responded to Celeste's appearance by arranging future communication through attorneys.
He was also advised about lawful protective options if unwanted visits continued.
Celeste sent him a message the following morning.
We need to discuss our marriage before you ruin both our lives.
Grant forwarded it to Rebecca.
Then he agreed to meet Celeste at the mansion, without Ella present.
Rebecca recommended that he avoid trying to investigate her himself.
Grant understood.
But he also needed to tell his wife that their marriage was over.
He arranged for security personnel to remain on the property without entering the private meeting.
Before the conversation, Grant activated the voice recording function on his phone.
New York generally permitted a participant in a conversation to record it without the other person's consent.
Grant was not hoping for a dramatic confession.
He wanted an accurate record of what was said.
Celeste was waiting in the library.
She wore a pale green dress and diamond earrings.
On the table stood two glasses of wine.
Grant didn't touch either.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
He remained standing.
"We need to separate."
Celeste's smile disappeared.
"Excuse me?"
"I want a divorce."
For several seconds, she stared at him.
Then she laughed.
"You're making a terrible mistake."
"Possibly."
"All because of Rosa?"
"No."
"Because a child said something?"
"Because I no longer trust you."
Celeste moved closer.
"Grant, you have no idea how much I protected you."
He looked at her.
"From what?"
"From your mistakes. From Owen's mistakes. From people who wanted to take advantage of you."
Grant thought of the invoices.
"By using my signature?"
She stopped.
His voice remained calm.
"By moving company money through your consulting business?"
Celeste's eyes narrowed.
"You're listening to Rebecca."
"I'm listening to the records."
She turned toward the window.
"You never understood how difficult it was to build a life here."
Grant stared.
"You lived in a mansion."
"I lived in Nora's mansion."
The words emerged with unexpected bitterness.
"Every room belonged to her. Every charitable event was about her. Every family photograph reminded me that I was only the second wife."
Grant remained silent.
Celeste continued.
"And then there was Rosa."
"What about Rosa?"
"That woman walked around the house like she belonged there. Ella adored her. You trusted her."
Grant looked at his wife.
"She worked hard. She cared about Ella."
"She was a servant."
The contempt in her voice shocked him.
"No," Grant said quietly. "She was a person."
Celeste turned sharply.
"Don't lecture me."
"Why were you so desperate to get rid of her?"
Celeste looked away.
"She was asking questions."
"About the invoices?"
Silence.
Grant waited.
"She found papers she wasn't supposed to see," Celeste said.
"That doesn't explain the pool."
Celeste's expression changed.
For the first time, she seemed to recognize the direction of the conversation.
Grant didn't move.
"Tell me what happened."
"You already know what happened."
"I know Rosa rescued Ella."
Celeste laughed angrily.
"Oh, wonderful Rosa. The saint of Westchester."
"Did you push Ella?"
Celeste stared at him.
Then she said, "I only wanted to scare her."
Grant felt the blood drain from his face.
"What?"
"She was always running to Rosa. Always telling Rosa everything."
Grant could barely breathe.
Celeste continued, speaking faster now.
"I thought if there was some kind of incident, everybody would stop treating Rosa like she was indispensable."
Grant gripped the edge of the desk.
"You used Ella?"
"I didn't expect her to go all the way under!"
The words filled the room.
Celeste stopped.
She stared at Grant.
He stared back.
Neither moved.
Then Grant asked, very quietly, "You pushed my daughter into the water?"
Celeste's expression hardened.
"Don't twist my words."
"She could have died."
"But she didn't."
Grant looked at her as though seeing a stranger.
"Because Rosa saved her."
Celeste looked away.
Outside, the same pool glittered under the afternoon sun.
Grant could no longer stand the sight of it.
He turned toward the door.
"Get your attorney."
Celeste followed him.
"Grant, wait."
He didn't.
"Grant!"
He stopped at the threshold.
For one moment, Celeste's voice sounded almost pleading.
"Please don't destroy everything we built."
Grant turned.
"We didn't build this."
May you like
He looked around the room Nora had designed.
"You were helping tear it apart."
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