Leila understood her mother's unspoken message: own up to it.
Tears welled up again.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I was just scared you'd like Celeste more and wouldn't care about me anymore. I know it was wrong…"
Darell looked at Leila's face—so much like his late wife's. Though he knew Leila was in the wrong, he couldn't bring himself to punish her.
He softened.
"When Celeste comes back, apologize to her."
Leila's jaw dropped.
"What? She's coming back?"
Darell just looked at her in silence.
Leila quickly added,
"I don't mean anything by it, but didn't she say she didn't want to be here anymore?"
Darell was unfazed.
"Ace went after her. He'll bring her back."
Leila thought, 'Celeste's made her bed. Let's see if she's brave enough to lie in it. If she comes back, I'll make sure she regrets it.'
That evening, Ace returned with a reluctant Celeste in tow. Leila was fuming.
She couldn't believe her eyes. Celeste was back. Just great.
"Didn't you swear you'd never darken our doorstep again?" Leila spat.
Celeste shrugged.
"Not my choice."
Flashback to earlier that day:
After storming out of the Millers' house, Celeste had called her contact at the agency, announcing she wanted to return. She couldn't stand another minute in that madhouse.
Her contact laughed.
"If you don't stick it out for a full month, don't call us. In fact, don't bother." Then they blocked her.
Returning to the Special Operations Division wasn't an option.
And she'd made a big show of leaving the Miller family, so she wasn't about to swallow her pride and go back immediately. Since she had to wait a month anyway, she figured she could stay out and return when her time was up.
But she never saw this coming—Ace actually hired a hacker to track her down!
Celeste couldn't believe it. She hadn't even put up any defenses, but they were watching her every move.
Furious after finding out, she hacked right back and fried the hacker's expensive tracking gear.
Supposedly, it was worth millions, and the poor guy was so crushed he locked himself in the bathroom before hitting Ace up for damages. Ace then turned to Celeste, playing broke and insisting she cover it.
With no other choice, she followed Ace back home.
Now sitting there with Leila glaring daggers at her and Ace grinning like he'd won some victory, Celeste's thoughts were a jumble.
'Seriously,' she thought, this world has zero love left—might as well let it all burn.
"Sorry!" Leila spat out the word through gritted teeth, barely keeping her frustration in check. Darell had made her apologize to Celeste, and no matter how much it irked her, she had to follow through.
Celeste raised an eyebrow, surprised. Leila looked like she wanted to tear her to shreds, yet here she was, saying "sorry" out loud.
"What's your problem? You seem off," Celeste asked, blunt as ever.
Leila snapped. "You're the one who's off!"
Ace chuckled, glancing briefly at their father, who was observing in silence. Leaning in, he explained to Celeste, "Dad probably made her apologize."
"No way." Celeste shook her head, crossing her arms. "He hates me." She still thought Leila was losing her grip.
Darell's expression darkened, and he strode over to Celeste with an intense gaze. She stood her ground, meeting his eyes, totally unafraid.
What now? Another lecture? she wondered.
Out of nowhere, Darell asked, "Are you the famous painter Berthe Morisot?"
Celeste froze. "Wait, what? How did he figure that out?"
Leila immediately cut in, shocked. "Dad, what are you even saying? Celeste can't be Berthe—she's just some hick from the sticks!" She wasn't about to let her father forget that Celeste grew up in the countryside with barely any schooling.
Darell ignored Leila's outburst, keeping his gaze steady on Celeste. "Well? Are you or aren't you?"
He scrutinized the two paintings, noticing the same style in each.
Celeste, of course, wasn't about to give herself away. Chin raised, she said confidently, "No, I'm not!"
"Really?" Darell narrowed his eyes. "Then how exactly did you paint something like Enduring Beauty?"
Celeste shrugged, still defiant. "Why the big mystery? It's the kind of painting anyone could pull off if they have hands."
Leila, irked by Celeste's tone, scoffed, "Oh, so I guess that means we're all handless then?"
Celeste glanced over at her, entirely sincere. "I mean… maybe your hands just aren't pulling their weight."
"You!" Leila's eyes welled up with tears. She turned to Darell, desperate. "Dad, look! She's mocking me again!"
Darell frowned at Celeste. "Do you have to constantly antagonize your sister?"
Celeste's eyes flashed with anger. She lifted her chin defiantly. "Why don't you tell her to lay off? You are always blaming me. Just because I'm the easy target, you think you can let her walk all over me? That's not right!"
Darell was taken aback. Easy target? he thought grimly. Is that what she thinks she is? Ace has always favored her, and she's never been afraid to speak her mind. Everyone else is trying to fit in, but she's already stirred up so much trouble. It's only been two days!
Darell's heart ached. Celeste was a constant reminder of the tragedy that had taken his wife. He hated her, but she was still his daughter. And she had a knack for disappearing, so he couldn't keep chasing after her.
Finally, he sighed. "Enough," he said, his voice low. "Just stay out of trouble. Go to bed."
He turned and walked away.
Celeste turned to Ace with a huff. "Why's he always lecturing me about causing trouble? I haven't done a thing!"
Ace laughed, reaching over to tousle her hair. "You've got it all wrong, Celeste. That was his way of surrendering."
In the Miller family, their father was practically law, and no one dared talk back—except Celeste. She didn't just talk back; she went toe-to-toe with him, and he'd gotten used to it.
"Surrender? Are you feeling okay?" Celeste raised an eyebrow, skeptical. How could she miss this surrender?
"Don't worry about it," Ace said, guiding her toward the stairs. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you out for something delicious."
Remembering the amazing beef Ace had treated her to last time, Celeste relented. "Okay, fine. But I want more wagyu tomorrow."
"Of course. Whatever you want."
With that, he led her upstairs, leaving Leila and her mother, Susan, behind in the living room.
"Mom, what are we going to do?" Leila asked, looking distressed. "I feel like Dad doesn't hate Celeste that much anymore. What if he starts liking her more than me?"
Leila felt a primal sense of ownership over her father. Celeste was an intruder, daring to trespass on her territory. The Miller family was hers. Her dad, her brothers, their future—it was all hers by right. She wouldn't allow Celeste to take even a crumb.