The Day the Tragic Heroine Chose Herself Chapter 03

The Day the Tragic Heroine Chose Herself Chapter 03

I didn’t make it.

Elias was faster. With one kick, he sent the letter opener flying out of my hand.

“Celine, are you really going to keep pulling this stunt? Threatening to kill yourself every five minutes?”

Each word came out cold.

“Let me make this clear. Stop coming after Hazel, stop making everyone’s life hell, and I won’t care how you look. You’ll still be Mrs. Donovan.”

I sank to the floor. When I spoke, my voice was flat. Empty.

“But I don’t want to be Mrs. Donovan anymore.”

Nobody moved.

Then Arthur closed his hand around the pendant at my neck and ripped it off. My mother’s pendant. The one that marked me as the Ashford heir.

He looked down at me like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe.

“Look at yourself. You’re not fit to be Mrs. Donovan. And you’re sure as hell not fit to lead this family.”

“That accident with Eleanor Ashford, all those years ago. If I’d known you’d turn out like this, I would’ve let you die instead.”

Something inside me went quiet. For good.

I was on the cold floor, laughing. Tears ran down my face, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Arthur walked over to Hazel and fastened the pendant around her neck. He did it right in front of me.

After that, they locked me in the basement. No windows, no sharp edges. Nothing I could use to finish what I’d started.

Hazel offered to handle my recovery. Her idea. Her terms.

“Elias, Celine’s in a fragile place right now. I’m a doctor. Let me talk to her.”

Elias rubbed the bridge of his nose. The relief on his face was obvious.

“She’s all yours. Just keep her under control.”

He never saw what happened after the door closed. The softness drained from Hazel’s face like someone had flipped a switch.

She grabbed my chin and jerked my face up.

“You know what I can’t stand about you, Celine? That look. Like you’re better than everyone.”

“And now? You’re not even a real woman anymore. So what do you even have left to fight me with?”

I tried to fight her off. My body had nothing left to give.

She laughed, soft and sweet, and slid the needle into my arm. Cold flooded through me.

“Don’t worry, Celine. You wanted to die, right? Too bad. I won’t let you. I’m going to keep you alive, nice and docile, living in my shadow like the good little pet you are.”

I lost count of the days.

Then one night, Leo slipped in. He was carrying a bowl of lukewarm soup. He took one look at me and froze.

Maybe he’d finally understood how badly I wanted to die.

Or maybe guilt had finally caught up with him.

His eyes went red. He lifted the spoon to my mouth with clumsy, shaking hands.

“Mom… eat something.”

I turned away.

My voice was barely a whisper.

“…Just let me… die…”

The bowl shook in his hands.

Something in him snapped. The worry vanished, and his face hardened.

“This again? The starving act, the death wish, all of it. Who’s this for, Mom? Are you trying to punish me and Dad?”

I closed my eyes. The memories came whether I wanted them or not.

Memories of him as a toddler flashed through my mind. His face lighting up with joy. That look of quiet contentment.

His first steps, wobbly and wild, crashing straight into my arms. That tiny voice. Mama.

I didn’t want any of it anymore.

The silence stretched. When I finally spoke, my voice scraped out of me.

“Get out.”

Leo’s face crumpled. He turned and bolted.

The door didn’t latch completely behind him…