Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE WITH TWO NAMES
Celeste returned to the townhouse on a Thursday morning.
Naomi had arranged a supervised visit so she could collect personal belongings and relevant records.
The house stood on a quiet street near Gramercy Park.
Five floors.
Limestone façade.
A garden Celeste had designed herself.
She had once believed it was their home.
Now it felt like a showroom curated for strangers.
Margaret was waiting in the drawing room.
She wore a gray suit and a string of pearls.
“Celeste.”
“Margaret.”
The older woman looked at Naomi.
“Was an attorney really necessary?”
Celeste answered before Naomi could.
“Yes.”
Margaret's lips tightened.
“You've embarrassed this family.”
Celeste looked around.
“At least we're finally discussing embarrassment honestly.”
Margaret folded her hands.
“Allison made a mistake.”
Celeste nodded.
“Yes.”
“Men under pressure sometimes seek comfort.”
Celeste stared.
“Comfort?”
Margaret continued.
“Dana understood the demands of his position.”
Celeste felt a strange calm.
“So did I.”
Margaret looked away.
“You were never comfortable with the social responsibilities.”
Celeste almost laughed.
“I organized them.”
“Organizing isn't the same as belonging.”
The words hung between them.
For years, Celeste had wondered why Margaret never seemed satisfied.
Now she understood.
Margaret didn't want a daughter-in-law.
She wanted an employee who would never ask to be paid.
Celeste collected her mother's jewelry, personal documents, and several boxes of photographs.
In Allison's study, she found a framed picture from the firm's first anniversary dinner.
She stood beside him.
They were younger.
Tired.
Happy.
The event had taken place in a rented restaurant with mismatched chairs.
Celeste had cooked the desserts herself.
She touched the frame.
Then left it where it was.
As they prepared to leave, Margaret spoke again.
“You won't get the house.”
Celeste turned.
“What?”
“The property belongs to the Harmon family trust.”
Naomi stepped forward.
“We'll address property ownership through the appropriate legal process.”
Margaret smiled.
“Of course.”
Celeste looked at the staircase.
She remembered choosing the wallpaper.
Painting the nursery they never used after a pregnancy loss four years earlier.
Planting lavender in the garden because Allison said it reminded him of Provence.
She had poured herself into every room.
But ownership, she was learning, had never been the same as belonging.
That afternoon, Naomi examined the property records.
The townhouse had been purchased during the marriage.
But title had been transferred to a family-controlled entity two years earlier.
Celeste stared.
“I didn't know.”
Naomi nodded.
“We'll investigate the transfer.”
The next day, Lydia called.
“I found something strange.”
Celeste sat up.
“What?”
“Your old email account was accessed from Allison's office after you moved out.”
Celeste felt cold.
“By whom?”
“We can't identify the person from that alone.”
Lydia continued.
“But the access occurred shortly before the firm's lawyers claimed you approved those contracts.”
Celeste looked toward the window.
Someone was still trying to make the evidence point at her.
That evening, Allison sent a message.
I want us to find a way back.
Celeste stared.
May you like
Then replied:
You need to find your way back to honesty. I won't be waiting at the end of it.
