Celestina paced back and forth in her study, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily on her chest. The documents her mother had shown her still lay on her desk, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at them again. Everything she had believed about her father was crumbling, and the mix of guilt and rage bubbling inside her felt unbearable.

She stopped and stared out of the window, her hands resting protectively on her growing belly. I fought so hard to bring him down, thinking I was doing the right thing. But was it enough? Did I even know the full extent of what he’d done?

Her thoughts spiraled, and she slammed her fist against the windowsill.

“Celestina.”

She turned to see her mother, Isolde, standing in the doorway. Her presence was still surreal, like a dream she hadn’t woken from.

“What do you want?” Celestina asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Isolde stepped inside, her expression soft. “I want to help you. But you need to talk to me first.”

Celestina let out a bitter laugh. “Help me? How? By telling me more lies