Chapter 4 - The Sister’s BargainThree cells down, Celeste Whitaker paced the length of her temporary enclosure in her bare feet, her silk robe wrinkled and stained at the hem.
The heavy steel door slid open.
Maren rolled inside alone, leaving the guards stationed in the corridor.
Celeste stopped pacing, her eyes wide with a mixture of panic and resentment. "Maren! Please. You can't let them do this. We're sisters. We share the same blood—"
"Don't talk to me about blood, Celeste," Maren cut her off, her voice like broken glass. "You watched him put peanut oil in my food. You stood on the stairs and smiled while I suffocated."
Celeste dropped her gaze to the floor, her chest heaving. For a second, no one spoke. Then, a bitter, hysterical laugh slipped past Celeste’s lips.
"You always had everything," Celeste muttered, her voice dropping into a venomous hiss as she looked back up. "Every award, every praise, every inch of father's pride. Even after your legs stopped working, people looked at you like you were some kind of tragic saint. While I struggled, while I cleaned up after your corporate messes, you sat on a throne built by a dead man!"
"Dad wasn't dead, Celeste," Maren said quietly. "And neither was Mom. You sold your soul to a man who would have killed you the moment you became an inconvenience, all because you couldn't stand being second best."
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Celeste crossed her arms, shivering despite the warmth of the room. "Reed has powerful friends, Maren. People in federal oversight. You think freezing his bank accounts will stop them? They'll tear this company apart to keep their own names out of the dirt."
"Let them try," Maren replied, turning her wheelchair toward the door. "Because unlike you, I didn't come here to negotiate. I came to watch you realize that your entire life was built on a foundation of sand."
