Chapter 4: The House Behind the House
Valdieri House — 1:17 a.m.
At 1:17 in the morning, lights were still burning in the Valdieri family's true Manhattan residence.
It was not, of course, the detached house in the Bronx where Rain had visited. That house had pale gray walls, dark green shutters, and a lawn trimmed with meticulous care. It looked exactly like the home a young technology executive might buy after years of hard work—clean, warm, and priced within a range that would never make Rain suspicious.
Celestina's real home lay hidden deep within a row of historic Manhattan townhouses.
The white limestone facade facing the street was almost aggressively discreet. Beyond a black iron gate ran a narrow passage. Only after crossing it did V House reveal itself: several adjoining old residences had been joined internally, and the white courtyard behind the main house was covered by a glass dome, beneath which bitter-orange and lemon trees stood quietly among pale stone.
Celestina's study occupied the top floor. Beyond its floor-to-ceiling windows lay the conservatory courtyard, then layer after layer of Manhattan rooftops and the nighttime skyline.
City lights glittered beyond the glass wall like a beautifully cut jewel. Inside were dark wood, white stone, a few antique artworks, and no unnecessary decoration. The room was so vast and quiet it seemed uninhabited.
Celestina sat behind a desk made from a single slab of ancient buried kauri.
The top had neither joints nor ornamentation, only the slightly uneven edge of the original tree. Under the lamplight, the wood glowed almost honey-gold, while dark resin veins lay pressed deep within it like tides fossilized long ago. Any expert in ancient plants would have recognized that this was no ordinary timber, but a priceless whole trunk buried underground for tens of thousands of years. An uncracked slab of this size belonged in a private museum.
Celestina used it for office paperwork and occasionally set her coffee on it without a thought.
She had changed out of the black dress she wore to dinner. Now she wore a white silk blouse with the sleeves rolled to her forearms, her blond hair loosely tied at the nape of her neck. Several windows filled the screen before her.
One displayed the location of an old apartment near Columbia. A small blue dot had remained motionless over the building for a long time.
Another showed the background activity log of a particular phone.
Andis's account had been blocked. A photograph of the two of them had been deleted.
Celestina stared at those two lines, her fingers still beside the mouse.
She should have been pleased.
Rain had been smart enough to block Andis and delete the photograph that exposed the side of her face. She had not told anyone about Celestina, nor had she spent the night searching until she spiraled out of control.
Yet Celestina was not pleased at all.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. Her pheromones were suppressed until they were almost imperceptible. Her control as a high-ranking Alpha bordered on pathological; she could keep every living thing in the room from sensing any change in her.
Except Rongrong.
The kitten lay on the cashmere rug by the study door, sweeping its tail across the floor. It had grown plumper since the day by the lake, its coat thicker and its eyes innocently round. It stretched its neck, caught the faint trace of pheromones in the air, looked up at Celestina, and meowed.
Celestina looked back.
“She wants to take you away.”
Rongrong understood nothing and merely rubbed itself against the rug.
After watching it for several seconds, Celestina gave a soft laugh.
“Lucky thing. She was the one who found you...”
Another monitoring window remained dark in the lower-right corner of her screen.
Its camera was hidden inside a stuffed animal she had deliberately chosen as Rain's holiday gift. The toy now sat beside the girl's bed, with a view limited to the edge of the mattress and part of the desk.
Celestina could have arranged something far more thorough when she planted it.
She had not. She knew that once certain boundaries were crossed, there was no returning to the beginning.
But tonight, she could not resist opening the window.
Rain was asleep on her stomach, with only a dim ambient light left on. One sleeve of her robe had ridden up, and her black curls spread across the pillow. Half her face was buried in it, as though exhaustion had finally overcome her. The green dress lay over the chair at the foot of the bed, its skirt hanging down, too beautiful for the shabby room.
Celestina watched in silence.
She felt no pleasure.
Only a deeper restlessness.
She could imagine Rain waking tomorrow: sitting up with a frown, tangling her hair with one hand, staring blankly for a while, and only belatedly remembering everything that had happened.
She would set out Celestina's surname, her Alpha identity, Andis's words, the expensive dinner, and the qipao, then judge each item one by one.
In the end, she would reach one very simple conclusion.
Pick up the cat on Saturday.
Then sever their connection completely.
Celestina's gaze darkened by degrees.
“No.” Her voice fell into the empty study without an echo.
She closed the feed abruptly, as if one second of hesitation might make her regret it, then picked up her phone and called a number.
The other party answered quickly.
“Miss.”
Celestina looked out the window, her tone cool.
“Andis Moreau. I want a complete report on his current situation, especially his social media.”
“Do you want him dealt with?”
Celestina lowered her eyes and rubbed the edge of the phone with her thumb.
“Not yet. If he contacts Rain again—even through a new account—tell me immediately.”
“Understood.”
After ending the call, Celestina set down the phone and walked to the glass. Below her, the city glittered brilliantly. She rarely experienced this exhaustion that came before losing control. In the past, whatever she wanted had required little trouble. Money, resources, bodies, loyalty—everything had a route, a price, a method of exchange.
Only Rain was difficult.
She was not an Omega. She could not smell Celestina's pheromones, would not weaken when Celestina approached, and would never instinctively submit to the natural pressure of a high-ranking Alpha. She would only sit awkwardly across from her in a dress Celestina had given her, seriously take out her saved bills to help pay for dinner, and then propose that they end their relationship.
It was absurd. Nothing like it had ever happened in Celestina's life.
That was precisely what made it precious.
Celestina sighed. Rongrong crept closer on tiny paws and pounced at her calf. Before the ambush could succeed, she bent and scooped it up. Furious at having failed, the kitten thrashed its tail and opened its mouth to bite her finger. Celestina pressed a knuckle gently between its jaws first.
“No biting.”
She looked down, entirely serious.
“Especially not her.”
Her eyes deepened. Rongrong stared at her as though it had sensed a terrifying threat. Its fur bristled, its ears flattened, and it released her without making a sound.
Celestina stroked its back, but there was no warmth in her pupils.
“You have to act good. Even better than good, if you want her to keep you. Understand?”
Rongrong gave a trembling whine. Celestina ran her fingers along its fluffy tail, and the warmth beneath her hand seemed to remind her of something beloved. Her lips curved.
She put the kitten back on the rug and tossed the little blue fish toy several feet away.
“Come.”
She stepped back, her voice soft.
“Run again. Let's see whether you can really escape from me.”
The Old Apartment — Noon the Next Day
Rain woke from an uneasy sleep and reached blindly for her phone. By habit, she opened her messages. There was nothing from Celestina.
The absence felt strangely unfamiliar.
Pale daylight showed beyond the window, and the radiator hummed. Her head felt heavy. She had not drunk much the night before, but her emotions seemed steeped in hazy liquor. Even her dreams had been tangled and bittersweet. Her body had awakened, but her mind felt as if it had never rested.
Rain raked a hand through her hair and got up. Passing the bed, she could not help looking at the qipao.
The first thing she had done upon returning was strip it off and throw it over the chair. Even after a night of neglect, no honest person could call it anything but beautiful. The emerald fabric pooled like an expensive lake over the landlord's old, flaking chair—a magnificent bird trapped in a crude iron cage.
The longer Rain looked, the more irritated she became.
If she returned it, she would have to see Celestina again. If she kept it, her conscience would not settle.
“This is so annoying!”
She turned away and violently flipped the comforter. The large teddy bear she adored was caught in the motion and toppled to the floor, its round eyes pointed innocently at the ceiling. The red light within them had long since gone dark.
Rain picked it up, set it back in place, and punched it on the head.
“Troublesome Alpha! Alphas are all awful!”
A message alert sounded.
Rain snatched up her phone with an expectation she did not want to examine.
It was Celestina.
Seeing the familiar name sent an undeniable flicker of happiness through her.
The messages were brief, sent at seven that morning. It was already eleven thirty.
Celia: Rongrong isn't sick. The vet reexamined her this morning. I'll give you the report on Saturday.
Celia: You don't need to reply.
A photograph followed.
Rongrong lay on a pale rug, hugging a blue fish toy between its front paws. Its round green eyes, glossy tabby coat, and energetic posture made it look healthy, lively, and very well cared for.
The photograph showed nothing of Celestina's room or any expensive furniture. It was so cleanly framed that she seemed to have deliberately removed everything that might make Rain uneasy.
But Rain knew this was not the detached house near the Hudson where she had visited, eaten, and even stayed overnight.
Thinking back, that perfect, welcoming home contained nothing that truly revealed Celestina's identity or past. No family photographs, no old possessions, no traces left by years of use. It was like a model home prepared in advance.
Rain enlarged the picture and studied the fine cashmere beneath Rongrong. A belated question formed in her mind.
Where did Celestina actually live?
Beyond the photograph, Celestina sat beside the kitten.
The family veterinarian had just examined it, and Rongrong was apparently offended. It savaged the toy, gripped the fish in both front paws, kicked furiously with its back legs, and glared at Celestina as if it still remembered last night.
A neat array surrounded it: several kinds of pet carriers, two bags of blended cat food, piles of cans and supplies, a bulging veterinary kit, and a bound stack of medical records.
Celestina's assistant stood far away, not daring to mention that the supplies could feed one kitten until next year.
Celestina stared at her phone.
So much time had passed, yet the messages still had not been marked read.
She turned the phone facedown, picked up the kitten, and inspected each paw. Rongrong flicked its tail but no longer hissed, scratched, or bit. It submitted obediently to Celestina's handling.
“On Saturday, you'd better look at least a little reluctant to leave me,” she murmured.
“Otherwise, these two months of raising you will truly have been wasted.”