Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 127

Chapter 17/

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“Julian. Where have you been? Your sister has been worried sick because of what you said earlier. And Celeste still has not come home. I told you, that woman has no…”

“Not now, Mom.”

“She is out there making a fool of you, and you are walking around like a…”

“I said not now.”

My sister Riley appeared at the top of the stairs, her face drawn with concern. “Julian? Are you okay? What happened? Did you find Celeste? Is she…”

I walked past both of them and up the stairs, ignoring their questions, ignoring their voices, ignoring everything except the need to be alone. I shut myself inside my bedroom and locked the door.

The silence settled around me like a blanket, but it did not bring comfort. The memories would not leave me. I kept seeing Celeste’s face, her moans, the way she had sucked Dominic’s cock with a skill I did not even know she possessed. She had never sucked my cock like that. She had never looked at me like that. She had never treated me like she was desperate for every inch of

me inside her.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, and I lost control.

I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and hurled it against the wall. It shattered, glass exploding across the room, but I did not stop. I picked up the alarm clock and threw it at the mirror, watching my reflection crack and splinter. I swept everything off the dresser, the cologne bottles, the watches, the framed photo of Celeste and me on our wedding day. The glass broke and I stomped on it, grinding the shards into the floor, destroying every trace of the woman who had destroyed me.

There was a knock at the door.

“Julian? Are you okay?” My mother’s voice, muffled through the wood.

“Get away from the door, Mom.”

“Julian, please. Open the door.”

“I said leave me alone!”

I heard her footsteps retreating, and then silence.

I looked down at my hands. They were bleeding, cuts from the glass I had shattered, thin lines of red running down my fingers and dripping onto the floor. I did not feel the pain. I did not feel anything except the cold, hard weight of revenge settling into my chest like a stone.

“Good morning, Julian,” she said, her voice light and pleasant, like we were meeting for brunch on a sunny Sunday.

What was good about the morning?

Something inside me snapped. I looked around, my vision tunneling, and the closest thing I could find was the glass flower vase sitting on the table. It was large, heavy, filled with wilted roses I had bought her two weeks ago.

I did not think. I just acted.

I grabbed it, raised it above my head, and hurled it at her with every ounce of strength I had left.

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