Deviating from the original plot

Chapter sixty

Celeste, dressed in her ballgown, made her way toward the banquet hall as her mother had requested. At the great doors, her father intercepted her.

"Do not ruin this night, I am warning you," he hissed, eyes sharp with warning. Without waiting for her reply, he strode inside.

Her hands curled into fists, nails biting her palms, but she forced herself into silence and followed.

The hall shimmered with chandeliers, music drifting through the air as nobles mingled in glittering clusters. At the centre of it all, her mother moved gracefully from guest to guest, her smile practised and perfect. Yet Celeste saw it for what it was. Fragile, forced, a mask worn to preserve appearances.

Her jaw tightened. What could she have done to accept and endure such humiliation?

Then, across the room, Rhyse appeared, giving his father a small bow. The Duke's response was immediate: a warm pat on the boy's shoulder, a smile that radiated pride.

Celeste's chest constricted. Only minutes earlier, he had threatened her with cold disdain yet now he lavished this peasant boy with tenderness. The sting of injustice burnt hot in her throat.

Still, Celeste held her composure. When her gaze fell upon Victoria and her father as they were entering the hall, her heart gave a sharp jolt. Quickly, she turned away, slipping into the shifting crowd. She could not bear to face her friend now, not with her world in such disgraceful disarray.

So she lingered on the fringes of the banquet, her glass of wine never empty, a steady rhythm of sipping and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres. To anyone watching, she seemed merely aloof. But beneath the calm mask, shame and fury churned together.

Then—applause. The Duke had risen to speak. The hall fell gradually to silence, all eyes fixed on the dais. Rhyse stood beside him, shifting nervously, though the Duke's hand on his shoulder steadied him.

Celeste's grip on her glass tightened. She knew exactly what was about to happen.

The Duke cleared his throat, his deep voice carrying easily across the hall.

"Friends, allies, honoured guests," he began, his tone smooth and commanding. "Tonight", he began, "we gather not only to celebrate the bonds of our house but to look toward its future." His gaze swept the assembly, pride gleaming in his eyes.

He paused, allowing his words to settle before drawing Rhyse forward.

"It is my great honour to present my son, Rhyse Ashford," the Duke declared, his eyes gleaming with pride. "From this day forward, he will stand as my chosen heir, the future of our house."

A murmur rippled through the hall –astonishment, whispers, polite applause. Some guests exchanged wide-eyed glances, others forced smiles. The Duchess lowered her gaze, her hands trembling against the folds of her gown.

Celeste's chest constricted. The wine in her glass trembled until she set it sharply onto a passing tray.

From across the hall, she caught sight of Victoria, who was scanning the crowd with concern. Their eyes met only for a heartbeat before Celeste turned away, slipping deeper into the throng. She had no strength left to be seen—not like this.

Her escape ended abruptly when she collided with a tall figure.

"Your Highness..." she breathed, her heart stalling as she recognised Cassius, the crown prince, champagne glinting in his hand. She instinctively stepped back, shock widening her eyes.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost," he drawled. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice low but edged with unease.

He arched a brow, his smirk deepening. "Am I not expected to, as your betrothed?" The word dripped with distaste.

Celeste lowered her gaze, shame in her expression. "I...didn't think you'd come to this."

"I can see why," he chuckled, swirling the champagne lazily. "You must be livid. And yet, not a single tantrum? Perhaps you're finally learning to grow up."

"Please." Her voice cracked. "I've no interest in your condescension tonight."

"How tragic," he murmured, tilting his glass. "I suppose I should have chosen a better moment, one when you were in better spirit, so I could watch the colour drain from your face with proper satisfaction. But alas, the opportunity presents itself now, and I do not intend to waste it."

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice thin, weary.

His eyes gleamed cruelly. "Since you insist on knowing... Celeste Ashford, I am here to annul our engagement."

The words struck harder than any blow. For a moment, the noise of the banquet seemed to vanish, leaving only the pounding of her heart in her ears.

Gasps rippled nearby—several guests had overheard. Whispers darted across the room like wildfire. Celeste stood frozen, lips parted, but no words came. Rage, shame, and disgust with heartbreak clashed inside her until the pressure burst.

Before she realised it, her hand whipped through the air and landed sharply against the prince's cheek.

The room fell silent.

Cassius staggered a step, holding his cheek. Shock flashing across his face before it twisted into fury.  "How dare you! You insolent beast!"

Her chest heaved, her voice trembling yet furious. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, for me to throw a tantrum. Why don't I instead *throw* you out of my estate?" She lifted her hand again.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, nobles clutching pearls and masks of shock, the scandal spreading faster than fire in dry grass.

Before the moment could spiral further, Victoria burst through the throng. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Celeste poised to strike again, the Crown Prince's face flushed with humiliation.

"Lady Celeste!" Victoria stepped forward and caught her wrist firmly. Celeste turned, her hand faltering, tears began to gather as the whispers around them swelled—she had struck a member of the Imperial family in public.

Victoria quickly pulled her friend away from the hall, leaving the overbearing atmosphere behind.

Outside, the night air hit them, and Celeste stumbled against a marble pillar, clutching it for support as her breath came in ragged bursts.

"He humiliated me," she choked, her voice breaking. "In front of everyone and I told him to leave but he didn't. I've ruined everything."

Victoria stepped close, her hands firm on Celeste's trembling shoulders. "Lady Celeste, look at me," she said softly but with conviction. "What you did was reckless, but it was also brave. You stood your ground and that's okay. I've been searching for you all night, worried sick. I know how unbearable this all feels, but you're not alone. I'm here."

Celeste's composure cracked. Tears welled and fell, her hands flying up to cover her face. "I didn't want you to see me like this," she whispered. "It's too shameful."

"It's okay," Victoria murmured, wrapping her arms around her. "There's no shame in being hurt."

For a moment, Celeste let herself lean into her friend, trembling in her arms. The weight of the evening pressed heavy, yet there was a comfort in Victoria's embrace.

"I don't want to stay here anymore..." she whispered.

"Then we won't," Victoria replied firmly. She took Celeste's hand and, without hesitation, guided her away from the estate and its prying eyes.

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A/n: Finally something we have all been waiting for, Celeste is free!!! But there's still more to come though, what do you think the Duke resents the Duchess for?

Hint: I don't think it something obvious lol.

I'm so excited!!!!

-Cattycat🐾