Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 97

Mack slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Alfred spoke up, his tone cool and measured.

"Took you long enough to come down. What happened up there?"

Mack gripped the steering wheel steadily, glancing at Celeste through the rearview mirror.

"The Duncan Group is about to team up with the Robertsons. There was a bit of a scene."

He let out a short laugh. "The Duncan family dumped all the blame on Miss Duncan, saying she's too stubborn for her own good. They claimed that if she refuses to apologize, she might as well get out of the company altogether. They're determined to erase every trace of what Miss Duncan and her mother did for the business."

"And the funny thing is, the Robertson guy isn't even dead yet, but the Duncans are in such a hurry to throw Miss Duncan to the wolves—send her off to prison, just to save face for the group."

Mack's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Not that the Duncan Group had a reputation worth saving. In Asterwynn, everyone knows them—acting like royalty without the crown, but twice the arrogance."

Celeste listened, feeling as if a weight had lifted from her chest. Who knew hearing someone else roast the Duncans could be so satisfying?

She hadn't expected Mack to go to such lengths to speak up for her, either.

Alfred's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering beneath his lashes.

"Looks like the Duncans are getting bolder by the day."

Celeste jumped in, her tone light. "Miss Viola is far too fond of her own life. I'm not the one ending up behind bars."

As she spoke, she glanced out the window, something about the passing scenery catching her attention.

"Huh? Why are we leaving the city?"

The road looked familiar—almost too familiar. It reminded her of the way to Hopkins Manor.

She tilted her head, giving Alfred a puzzled look.

Her wide eyes met his, and for a moment, Alfred's fingers tightened where they rested together. He coughed, trying to cover it up.

"Actually, Grandpa's been missing you."

"Oh, so that's what this is about."

"Then what does he want?" Alfred replied, genuinely puzzled.

Typical. She couldn't count on Alfred for this.

Celeste composed herself and walked straight to Derek, picking up the book he'd dropped and placing it gently in his lap. She leaned in, kneading his arm with a bright smile.

"Don't listen to Alfred—he may not say much, but he's always thinking of you."

"He's worked nonstop for days just to clear half a day to bring me here. He knows you just finished a long recovery, and you'd be bored, so he had fresh flowers ordered ahead of time. They're not rare, but the colors are bright. They say vivid colors are good for your eyes and keep your spirits up, so you'll get stronger every day. Alfred's just not good with words, Grandpa. Don't take him too seriously."

At first, Derek looked skeptical, his face stern.

"Really? You're not just flattering me, are you?"

Celeste stuck out her lower lip in mock outrage.

"Grandpa, if you don't believe me, Alfred and I spent ages picking those flowers. If you don't want them, I'll just have him send them all to my place—"

"Ahem! If they're meant for me, how could you just snatch them for yourself?"