“I still have three more days, Levi,” he mumbles, irritated.
I sigh, climbing into my car and connecting him to CarPlay. “What’s three more days going to do?”
“I don’t know.” He hums. “Probably the same thing that your resignation is doing.”
I snort.
“Where’s Cece?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“Summoned by her parents,” I grumble.
My mind immediately conjures that damning statement they issued the day after our nightclub visit. Our pictures had gone viral on all social media platforms.
I’m genuinely shocked that no one asked a single question about it today. But I think it was probably because of the sheer volume of people who had done a one-eighty and were now supporting Cece and me.
‘Uhh that doesn’t look anything like an “arranged”deal lol’
‘Get a gold plated room. Jesus! Happy for you, ig *eyeroll emoji*’
‘Imma need the number for where she got that wig. Pretty please… *pray emoji*’
I smirk as I remember thatoneparticular picture of us nearly stripping each other’s clothes off in the middle of the dance floor, pawing frantically at each other.
But I do know not everyone took our night the way I hoped they would.
‘it’s a PR stunt guys. Don’t fall for these corn pictures.’
‘I’m confused? Who does he love? Both? Probably neither for getting caught like that before.’
But the overwhelming majority were swaying to our side. And I hoped Cece could see that support. It still doesn’t erase the lack of it from her parents, though.
‘…and we want to assert that the behavior of our daughter, Celestine, does not reflect the Wentworth values. We will, however, support our daughter during these difficult circumstances and her mental struggles—ensuring she has access to the best resources available…’
Funnily enough, their whole statement backfired on them spectacularly. Their public perception shiftedfromsupportive parentstodiscriminatory assholeswho were dismissive of their daughter’s mental health.
Especially after Vivienne posted a lengthy video statement on her Instagram. Most of it was her rolling her eyes while she narrated her own parents’ cruel words.
From what Vi texted me later that day, it was only their mother who had the gall to issue those words. Their father had nothing to do with it.
But the damage is done.
And even if they summon Cece every day until their reputation recovers, their relationship with both their daughters will always carry this weight of callousness.
I hang up after a few minutes and pull into the Wentworth estate. This is my first time here after that disastrous dinner. And I’m not quite keen on interacting with the two people who should’ve protected their daughter instead of hurting her even more. They’re just one fraudulent act short of being exactly like the Astors.
I politely wave at one of their staff as I step inside, only for the shrill voice of Eloise Wentworth to make me cringe immediately. “A club, Cece. It’s still aclub. Your… bipolar—” she practically spits out the word like it’s acid on her tongue, “—is not an excuse to be this irresponsible. I thank the Lord that Levi arrived when he did. God knows what would’ve happened if—”
“First,” Cece cuts in smoothly, her voice soft but unwavering, “I am not excusing anything as bipolar. You just learned about it, so I’d appreciate it if you looked it up. Just once. And second—”
I move deeper into the living room, stopping justbeyond a decorative pillar and out of their immediate line of sight.
“We don’t need to look it up—”
“And second!” Cece nearly shouts. “Going to a club is not some outrageous act of irresponsibility. People go to clubs, Mom. It isn’t synonymous with being reckless.”
“Sweetheart,” Samuel says, his voice taking on a placating tone. “We’re not saying that. Listen, you can go to clubs. That’s not the issue. It’s that you went out without security. Without Levi. And people took… inappropriatepictures. That’s not how we—”
“And that wig!” Eloise exclaims. “My God, the number of calls I’ve received in the last three days…”
