All I Ask Is a Quiet Life

Hayden had been nursing a drink at a bar to rid himself of his frustration when he received Celeste's call. He immediately straightened up in delight at her words.

He exclaimed, "Really? Have you finally seen sense, Celeste? I told you Terence Ford was no good! His fists are hard, but his heart is harder! You were bound to suffer by his side! Thankfully, you've come to your senses now. Have you packed your things yet? I'll head back to pick you up now!"

Celeste's heart twisted painfully when she heard the tremor in his voice because of how agitated he was. She endured her discomfort as she said, "You need to get the immigration papers started first, Hayden. I'll head over in a month after wrapping up everything here. I'm not coming back anymore."

Only then did Hayden remember that certain procedures needed to be completed before one could immigrate. He hastily agreed and hung up to get started on them.

Celeste's gaze darkened after ending the call. She had a month to sever the ties between Ford Group and Lodge Group—she would do it before Terence faked his death. She would rid herself of him and the Ford family before he could do it to her.

She didn't owe him anything after everything she'd done for him in the past three years. And she definitely wasn't going to stay there and deal with the mess that was bound to arise after he faked his death.

…

Celeste spent the next five days alone at the hospital. Terence never once showed up during that period. He'd abandoned her there after taking her blood and skin, not even bothering to give her a superficial explanation. He didn't care how she would react after regaining consciousness.

She curled her lip mockingly and wiped the tears that had eked out on their own. Then, she contacted someone to prepare divorce papers for her.

On the day she was discharged, she brought the divorce agreement back to the Ford residence with her. As she approached the door, she heard voices drift out.

"Terence, you left Celeste at the hospital for the past week to be with me. She won't get mad and refuse to come home, will she? Stop lining up to get food for me, and go be with her instead of hanging around by my bedside…" Winona said.

Terence gently massaged her ankle, looking at her affectionately. A hint of impatience flashed in his eyes at the mention of Celeste. "I don't need to do that—she can't bear to leave me. Even if she did, she'd come crawling back in three days."

Celeste stiffened as anguish flashed in her eyes. So, he was so sure that she loved him too deeply to leave him. That was why he did whatever he wanted without a care for how she would feel.

She laughed bitterly before pushing the door open. Silence descended upon the room.

The affection in Terence's eyes disappeared. He patted Winona comfortingly before turning to look at Celeste warily. He thought she would kick up a fuss and cause a scene, but she merely held out an agreement, looking calm. "Sign this."

He was taken aback for a second when the outburst he expected didn't come. Still, he didn't think anything was amiss because she'd given him work-related agreements like this in the past. He took it and signed it with a frown.

He wanted to say something, but his phone buzzed. It was about work, so he gave Winona a heads-up before heading to the study.

Celeste turned to head to her room after getting Terence to sign the divorce agreement, but Winona stopped her. "You must be Celeste Lodge, right? I heard about you from Terence—you're a fangirl who pulled all sorts of tricks to marry him."

She snorted. "He also said you're really good at serving others. How about you make me a cup of hot coffee?"

She lifted her hair casually as she spoke, revealing the diamond necklace around her neck. It was the one Terence had won after fighting in 12 consecutive boxing matches. It symbolized eternal and passionate love.

Celeste knew Winona was showing off and reminding her of her place. She frowned, not wanting to waste time arguing with her at a time like this. She wanted to reject Winona.

However, the latter expected this and said flippantly, "I'll tell Terence that you bullied me if you refuse to do it. I think he'll probably be mad, which means things won't end well for you."

Celeste balled her hands into fists, her gaze turning dark. Winona was right—she only had to say the word to make Terence believe her without a shadow of a doubt.

Celeste had to hang around for a while longer before she could leave. It would be better for her to steer clear of trouble as much as possible so she could ensure she left safely. She said, "Fine. I'll do it."

Ten minutes later, she returned with a cup of coffee.

Winona cocked an eyebrow and took a sip. Then, her expression darkened, and she splashed the rest of the coffee in Celeste's face. "What on earth is this? It tastes disgusting!"

She didn't stop there. She threw the cup at Celeste's head. It fell to the floor and shattered into pieces, leaving Celeste's forehead with a bloody wound. The droplets of blood trickled down, staining the floor a glaring, vivid red.

Pain was all Celeste felt. But before she could react, Winona noticed something out of the corner of her eye and grabbed a glass of cold water from the table, pouring it over herself. Then, she cried out in pain and fell to the floor, completing a performance all on her own.

That was when Terence returned. He ran over the moment he heard the ruckus. His blood boiled when he saw Winona clutching her head and screaming in pain. He shoved Celeste away and gathered Winona into his arms.

He didn't hold back, so Celeste lost her balance and fell to the floor, her hands instinctively pressing on the glass shards as she caught herself. They cut into her palms, making her blood flow.

"Winona, are you hurt? Did you twist your ankle? Were you scalded?" Terence asked urgently.

Winona leaned into his arms pitifully and shrank back fearfully. "I'm fine, Terence. I think she's mad because you've been spending all your time with me. She poured hot water on me and even pushed me because I accidentally spilled coffee on her. But it's okay—it's only right for her to be mad. I don't blame her."

Terence glared at Celeste, the hatred and disgust in his gaze on full display. "You'll never change, Celeste. Your tricks will always be this dirty, and so will your heart."

His gaze darkened, and he held Winona tightly as he grabbed the remaining glass of hot water from the coffee table. He snarled, "I told you not to touch my precious Winona! I'll give you a taste of what you put her through!"

Celeste didn't even have time to explain. He splashed the hot water on her as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

She instinctively raised her hands to block it, and the water scalded her. The burning sensation made her cry out in agony, and beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead.

She trembled from the pain, but Terence didn't want to let her off the hook just yet. As he stalked closer, she tried to force an explanation through the pain. "I didn't touch her, Terence!"

She asked the butler, Mike Smith, to get the surveillance footage. "See for yourself—Winona framed me!"

Mike brought a laptop to Terence.

Celeste had already come up with a plan to counter Winona's false accusations the moment she did it, but…

Terence's expression shifted as he watched the surveillance footage. However, all Winona needed to do was sob in his arms. He immediately suppressed the odd emotions that welled up within him.

He stroked her hair and said comfortingly, "Don't be scared. I know you didn't mean to do it."

He only looked up at Celeste when Winona stopped weeping. Then, sounding like he was pardoning Celeste of some crime, he said, "This matter ends here. Pack your things and move out of the master bedroom. You're taking the guest room."

He looked icily at her wounds before heading to his room with Winona.

Celeste hadn't expected this. She'd laid out the evidence before him, yet he could still side with Winona without even batting an eye.

She lifted her bloody hands with difficulty, her eyes filled with mockery and despair. Then, she said to the empty room, "Fine. I'll move."