Celestina sat across from her mother, Isolde, in her private quarters, her mind racing with questions and emotions. She could barely meet her mother’s gaze as the years of separation, grief, and confusion pressed down on her chest like a boulder.

“Start from the beginning,” Celestina said, her voice trembling. “Tell me everything. No more secrets.”

Isolde clasped her hands tightly together, tears pooling in her eyes. “Celestina, I never wanted to leave you,” she began, her voice breaking. “Your father—he wouldn’t let me stay. When I asked him for a divorce, he… he laughed in my face. And then he threatened me.”

Celestina’s throat tightened. “Threatened you how?”

Isolde’s hands shook as she pulled out a faded letter from her bag and placed it on the table between them. “With you,” she whispered. “He said that if I ever left, or tried to contact you, he’d have you killed. He said he’d make it look like an accident.”

Celestina stared at the letter, her fingers frozen above the paper. Her eyes darted over the harsh, familiar handwriting of her father. “You are nothing without me. Try to leave, and your daughter will pay the price.”

She pushed the letter away as if it burned her. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Why would he go so far? Why would he threaten his own family?”

“Because he was paranoid,” Isolde said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He needed to control everything—his power, his image, even his family. He couldn’t stand the thought of me leaving and taking even a shred of his power with me.”

Celestina leaned back in her chair, her mind reeling. “But you could have fought him. You could have stayed and tried—”

“I couldn’t risk your life!” Isolde cried, cutting her off. “What was I supposed to do? Stay and watch him use you as a pawn? Or worse, lose you forever? I thought… I thought leaving was the only way to keep you safe.”

The raw emotion in her mother’s voice silenced Celestina. She looked down, struggling to process the weight of what she was hearing.

Isolde reached into her bag again, pulling out more letters—each one filled with threats and warnings from Alvada. She spread them out on the table, her hands trembling.

“This is the truth, Celestina,” she said. “He kept me away from you. He made sure I couldn’t even send you a message. And when I tried to return during his fall, his loyalists stopped me. They said I was a threat to the Alvada name.”

Celestina’s eyes darted over the letters, each one confirming her mother’s words. She felt sick to her stomach as the realization of her father’s cruelty sank in.

“All these years,” Celestina whispered. “I thought you were dead. I thought you abandoned me.”

Isolde shook her head, her voice filled with anguish. “I never abandoned you. I watched from afar, Celestina. Every news report, every speech you gave—I clung to it. It was the only way I could feel close to you.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder?” Celestina snapped, her anger bubbling to the surface. “You let him win! You let him ruin us!”

Isolde recoiled as if slapped, tears streaming down her face. “You think I didn’t try? I begged him, Celestina. I begged him to let me stay, to let me see you. But he wouldn’t budge. And when I tried to intervene after his fall, his allies made it impossible.”

Celestina stood abruptly, pacing the room as emotions swirled within her. “He destroyed us,” she muttered, her fists clenched. “He destroyed everything we could have had.”

Her voice rose as she turned to face her mother. “He stole you from me. He stole my childhood. He made me believe I was alone!”

Isolde stood and reached out to her. “Celestina, please—”

“No!” Celestina shouted, tears streaming down her face. “He broke us! And now I’m here, picking up the pieces of this nation, carrying his sins, while you—” Her voice cracked, and she sank back into her chair, her hands cradling her stomach.

The room fell silent except for Celestina’s quiet sobs. Isolde moved to kneel beside her, placing a tentative hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” Isolde whispered. “I failed you. I know I did. But I’m here now, and I want to help. Please, let me help you.”

Celestina looked down at her mother’s tear-streaked face, her own heart breaking at the sight. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said softly. “Not yet. But I need answers. All of them.”

Isolde nodded, her voice trembling. “You’ll have them. I promise. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

As the tension in the room eased slightly, Celestina suddenly winced, her hand flying to her stomach.

“What is it?” Isolde asked, panicked.

“The baby,” Celestina said, her voice softening. “It’s kicking.”