Chapter 37 The Masked Truth
Celeste paused, realizing that her mask was off.
“I… “Celeste hesitated.
She felt a twinge of embarrassment as she met Wesley’s gaze, shifting slightly as she spoke.
She looked much younger without the mask, almost too young to be his mentor.
But the truth was undeniable. There was no reason to keep lying since she’d already been found out.
Finally, she admitted, “Yes, I am.”
Wesley’s eyes lingered on her face, a hint of surprise in his expression even though he had guessed she should be beautiful.
Wesley nodded slowly. “You look even younger and more beautiful than I imagined,” he said with a soft smile.
Celeste shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, scratching her neck. “Keep this under wraps, will you? I’d rather not have people knowing what I look like behind the mask. Just use my name once I take off my mask.”
She thought, ‘The less people know, the fewer problems I’ll have later.‘
Wesley chuckled, giving her a reassuring nod. “Alright, I’ll call you by your name from now on. Though…what is your name, exactly?”
They’d known each other for so long, and yet, he realized with a laugh, he still didn’t know her real name.
Clearing her throat, Celeste replied, “I go by a few names. For now, you can call me Celeste Sinclair.”
But she knew that soon enough, she’d go by Celeste Huxley.
Wesley looked a bit puzzled at her response, then managed a slightly awkward yet polite smile. “So, from now on… Celeste, it is?”
“Yeah,” Celeste said, gesturing toward Marcus. “Now, get some rest. I’ll take care of things here.”
Wesley glanced between Celeste and Marcus, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between them, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Odd…” he mused as he left.
After Wesley left, Celeste settled beside Marcus, quietly watching over him.
His pale complexion worried her, and she wondered if he’d recover enough to leave in three days.
She sighed, rising to fetch a bowl of water from the restroom. Returning, she carefully wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
When she noticed his chapped lips, she poured a glass of water and gently dabbed his lips with a cotton swab, her movements soft and attentive.
When she’d finished, she rested her head on the edge of his bed, drifting into a light sleep.
The next morning, Marcus‘ coughing startled Celeste awake. She immediately leaned forward, her face full of concern. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice soft yet anxious. “How are you feeling? Is your stomach still bothering you?” Marcus winced, rubbing his forehead. “When did you get here?”
“I came last night after your call,” she replied, her eyes narrowing with worry. “What happened? How did you end up poisoned? Was it the dinner I brought?”
He shook his head, uncertain. The pain had hit him suddenly, and it had been excruciating.
He had tried calling for help, but somehow dialed Celeste’s number instead. He hadn’t expected her to rush over last night. He raised an eyebrow, studying her. “You look… worried about me?”
‘Of course, I am, she thought. He had saved her life once, and if he’d been poisoned by the minestrone she brought, she felt responsible for finding whoever did it.
Celeste crossed her arms, her tone curious. “Do you have any idea what caused it? Could it have been something I brought?” Marcus shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Notre
“What do you mean?” she pressed, leaning in s “No, Marcus replied.
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ything else before I came?”
“Then what did you eat after you finished the meal?” Celeste asked again.
“Just water and some medication,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
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Chapter 37 The Masked Truth
Celeste’s mind raced. Wesley said it was food poisoning. If that’s true, then the likely source would be the minestrone soup. That’s all he had.
“Do you still have any of the minestrone left?” Celeste asked, her voice tinged with urgency.
“No, it’s gone,” he replied, sighing.
Celeste sighed as well, her frustration clear. Figuring out who poisoned him would be difficult without any evidence.
“I feel responsible for this,” she said quietly, crossing her arms. “I’m going to find out who did this to you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Marcus replied immediately. “I’ll have someone look into it. You don’t need to be involved.” He didn’t believe that Celeste could find out the person behind the scene.
“But- she began, but he cut her off.
“Starting tomorrow, you don’t need to come to the hospital anymore,” he said firmly, looking away.
Marcus had a nagging feeling that danger was lurking close by. The thought of Celeste potentially getting caught up in it weighed on him, so he decided he had to let her go, for her own safety.
When Celeste heard his decision, she assumed the worst–that he blamed her for his recent poisoning. Her expression
tightened, a flicker of hurt flashing across her face.
Her expression hardened, and she spoke with a slight edge. “Mr. Hale, are you firing me because you think I poisoned you?”
He held her gaze, expression inscrutable. In truth, he didn’t believe she’d harmed him. However, the dangers he faced were real, and he didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
But he was afraid that if he explained it himself, she would not be willing to leave.
“Think what you want,” he replied coolly. “Just don’t show up tomorrow. I’ll transfer your payment directly to your account.”
Celeste bristled, her fists clenching. ‘I don’t need the money, she thought, bitterness rising.
Determined to prove her innocence, she said sharply, “Fine. If you don’t trust me, let’s not wait until tomorrow. Consider me gone today.”
She grabbed her bag and strode out of the room without looking back. Marcus watched her go, his expression darkening.
That woman has a temper, he thought.
Outside the hospital, Celeste headed straight for the restaurant where she’d bought the minestrone the previous night.
She hadn’t handed it to anyone else, meaning that if it had been tampered with, it likely happened before or after she gave it
to Marcus.
Entering the restaurant, she found the owner busy with a customer. Once he was free, she approached him directly, her gaze sharp.
“Excuse me,” she began, clearing her throat. “Do you remember me? I was here last night.”
The owner, who had a knack for remembering pretty faces, smiled and nodded. “Yes, I remember you,” he said,
straightening up.
“Do you recall what you sold me?” Celeste asked, watching him closely.
The owner scratched his head, then replied confidently, “Minestrone.”
Celeste’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice calm but pointed. “Did you serve it to me personally?”
The owner frowned, his brow furrowing. “No, one of my staff took care of it,” he replied, sensing her intensity. “Why, was something wrong with the soup?”
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