Chapter 4: Who the hell are you?! - part 1
Celeste’s POV
I had just walked out of my Contemporary Art History class, and honestly, I wanted to die. And not because of the content—actually, the subject was kind of interesting, if you were high enough to endure thirty minutes of a professor who talked like he was holding an invisible mic and delivering a speech at the UN.
But no.
That wasn’t the issue.
The issue was something else entirely.
The issue was that every single time I walked out of a classroom in that godforsaken college… there she was.
Her. With a capital H.
Lya. My sister. That backstabbing, angel-faced snake.
The same one who was now glued to my ex like she’d been surgically attached to his dick.
Yeah.
Sorry.
I’m just bitter, okay?
Like onion-layered bitter. Except there’s no soup at the end of this—just emotional indigestion.
It was 11 a.m., and I had the afternoon free, but I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted was to spend the day doom-scrolling through Instagram and accidentally liking a picture of her. My phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans as I walked down the stairs of the arts building. I assumed it was just another Instagram notification reminding me that my only purpose in life was to admire other people’s happiness.
But no.
It was a saved number: Hanna—Stressed Barbie.
Yes, that’s what I saved her as. Because when I first met her, she looked like a Mattel doll having a nervous breakdown. No judgment though—her kid looked like a full-time job and then some.
Text:
“Celeste, hi sweetie! It’s Hanna. My boss is in desperate need of a nanny. He wants it to be you. Please help me; I’m at my limit. The pay is great, it’s full-time, and you’re going to love the kids. I’m sending a car to pick you up at 11. It’ll be super easy to spot. 🙏”
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
Full-time.
Great pay.
Desperate.
And me? Yeah, I was at my limit too. Just a different kind—rage, loneliness, longing for peace… and hunger. Because, oh yeah, my campus dining card got canceled last week thanks to that rat bastard Patricio.
I just stood there staring at the message, not realizing a couple was walking toward me until I heard the unmistakable shriek of my sister’s laugh.
“Oh my God, Patricio, I loved that restaurant you took me to last night… I bet you never took my sister there, right?”
“Of course not, babe. Everything’s just for you…”
Patricio’s voice made my stomach churn with pure disgust.
When I looked up, Lya was already staring at me with that fake-sweet, bitchy smile, her hands pressed against Patricio’s chest like a devoted girlfriend—but her eyes? All on me.
“Celle! Look at you! I was just telling my boyfriend how much I loved dinner last night. I’d invite you to come next time, but I’m afraid you’d get a little jealous, right?”
Oh, for the love of—
As if cheating on me with my sister wasn’t enough, now he officially dates her, and they make it their mission to rub it in my face every damn chance they get. And that snake of a girl lives for it; I know she does. God, why did I ever convince that which to enroll in college too?!
I rolled my eyes and looked away, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. The last thing I needed was to waste emotional energy on two people with the emotional depth of a plastic spoon.
And then… it happened.
A black car—tinted windows, so shiny it practically reflected my trauma—pulled up in front of the college.
Everyone turned to stare.
Because this wasn’t just a car. It was a limo. Big, sleek, and classy as hell. The kind of car that meant something was going down.
The window rolled down slowly, and the driver—suit, sunglasses, the whole action movie vibe—tilted his head toward me.
“Miss Celeste Castell?”
Yes.
Full name.
With a respectful, elegant accent and everything.
I saw my sister’s face change.
It was a masterpiece.
Started with a smug smile that slid right off her face like melting lipstick and ended with a pout so hard it probably bruised her ego.
Patricio, meanwhile, squeezed her hand tighter, putting on that insecure alpha male face—you know, the kind that wants to look in control but is sweating through his boxers.
I didn’t even hesitate.
Flashing a magazine-worthy smile, I flipped my hair, squared my shoulders, and got in the car without looking back.
No way in hell was I telling them it was for a nanny job.
Let them spiral, wondering where I was going.
The ride to the mansion was… surreal.
I don’t even know how to describe it. The seat was so comfy I nearly cried; the driver had chilled water, mint candies, and air conditioning stronger than my will to live these past few days.
When the gates opened, and I saw the mansion, my heart did a full somersault.
It was bigger than any house I’d ever seen. White, majestic, surrounded by perfectly trimmed gardens—as if even the grass had a pedigree.
The car hadn’t even stopped fully before I jumped out, excited to see the adorable little girl who’d nearly given me a heart attack in the street.
But what I saw first…
was a scream.
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
The door burst open, and Hanna came flying out—completely drenched in red paint.
Yeah. That is the thick, dripping kind that looked like fake horror movie blood.
It was in her hair, her shoulders, her heels—everywhere.
Behind her, two tiny demons were laughing like they’d just pulled off the perfect crime.
“Celeste!” she yelled when she saw me at the door. “Thank God! Here! They’re yours now! Goodbye!”
She practically threw the bag at me and stormed off, heels clicking, muttering something about therapy, a vacation, and early retirement. She didn’t tell me a single thing about the job. No schedule, no instructions—nothing. Just dumped me there.
I stood frozen, holding the bag of someone who looked like she’d just about given up on life, staring at two kids who were staring right back at me with a mix of excitement and suspicion.
Of course, the little girl smiled first.
“You’re here!” she squealed, running straight at me. “You really came!”
She wrapped her arms around my legs, squeezing herself against my jeans like we were lifelong best friends.
“Hey there, kiddo…” I smiled, crouching down to her level. “Are you going to tell me your real name now?”
“Abby! But you already knew that, right? I’m your best friend! You’re Abby’s hero!” she said, holding my face in both tiny hands. “You smell like bubblegum again!”
Behind her, the boy didn’t move.
I stood up, brushed my hair back, and looked at him. He was maybe nine or ten. Cute face, even though he was trying way too hard to look serious for a kid his age.