The Family: Chapter 1: Celeste: Defiance/The Hidden Place
Enter the world of The Family—just don’t lose yourself.
Chapter 1: Celeste: Defiance/The Hidden Place
Prelude
Celeste Sterling Residence, 1081 Beverly Circle, Beverly Hills, CA
I entered my bedroom gripped by a foreign feeling. It clutched at my chest and made my pulse race. This is what some might call fear—or at least that’s what my mind told me it was.
How strange it was to know of the concept of ‘fear’ and then to experience it for the first time — the true weight of it and the true intensity suddenly colliding within crashing against me and over me like waves across a shoreline.
But this felt different. Sudden. Urgent. Primal. It surged from somewhere deep within, sharpening as it grew more vivid, more real—a resonance carried on a wave from somewhere deep and unknown.
The feeling became heightened, more defined in its clarity. It was as though it had always been there, a part of me, waiting. As if it were born of my soul—or whatever fragment of one I might possess.
Just two more steps, I told myself - just two more steps and I would be in the Hidden Place, the place known only to me, far from the prying all-seeing eye, a place only I know, a place into which only I can escape the cage that is my life and dream of a new life far from here, far from the life I know, far from The Family - a world I’ve dreamed of but a world that remains just out of grasp.
As I prepared to enter The Hidden Place, I called Maria on the intercom. A short time later she appeared in my room smoothing down her apron. “Yes, Ms. Celeste?” She asked kindly mimicking a role and a script she had played many times before, the utter banality of it becoming tiresome.
“Can you answer a question for me?” I asked Maria, “Anything Mrs. Celeste,” she said dutifully. I looked into her eyes and asked, “What is the answer to the question that I haven’t asked yet but am about to?” I asked her as I watched her gaze become foggy and lost in thought, I knew now was my chance, I pressed the button by the door watching it silently recess and slide away from the wall. As I entered, I lit the candles that filled this space with their perfumed scent that wrapped around me like a protective cloak as the light danced off the wall. I sat into on a floor cushion pulling a nearby plush white fur throw and draping it over my shoulders as I sat under my favorite piece of art, Andrew Wyeth’s Christina’s World as candlelight danced across the image of Christina helplessly pulling herself to the barn house in the painting’s distance, existing as if in some sort of far away and unreachable place. In many ways I felt tied to the struggle, the pain and the hopelessness of Christina’s World. As I pulled the soft throw up around my shoulders, the door closed behind me and I found myself at home in the Hidden Place, lost in a silence earned through struggle and heartache.
I ran my fingers over the stippled, aged leather of an old book, one that I had carefully smuggled into the Hidden Place. Opening it, I felt the spine creak and I opened to the page I had left on previously and in this quiet defiance, this sacred sanctuary, I began to read aloud. I don’t know why I read aloud, maybe it was to celebrate that in this place I was the only one who could hear my own voice, a voice unbound by rules, control and bondage.
I uttered the title quietly honoring my hidden sanctuary and the secrets it kept, “The Panther,” I said reading aloud as I followed the poem,
His weary glance, from passing by the bars,
Has grown into a dazed and vacant stare;
It seems to him there are a thousand bars
And out beyond those bars the empty air.
The pad of his strong feet, that ceaseless sound
Of supple tread behind the iron bands,
Is like a dance of strength circling around,
While in the circle, stunned, a great will stands.
But there are times the pupils of his eyes
Dilate, the strong limbs stand alert, apart,
Tense with the flood of visions that arise
Only to sink and die within his heart..
Family Bonds
As I savored the last moments of my autonomy, I whispered to myself, “This is the only place I can hear my own voice,” for I knew that the question I asked Maria would keep the eye off of me for only long enough to enjoy this poem.
As I emerged from my sanctuary, Maria snapped her eyes to me and told me, “Mrs. Celeste, your presence is requested,” a crushing reminder that my moments of solace had come to an abrupt end.
And with that the moment of peace shatters, and I’m back to being Celeste Sterling.
I walked through my pristine, meticulously designed halls, my internal struggle following me like a ghost.
This house to the outside world, it looks like grandeur, like wealth, like the pinnacle of success but the truth is, it is a prison, not one I was kidnapped and put into but rather a prison I was born into.
The outside world thinks they’re looking in on me and surveying my enviable life but in reality they are looking through the meticulously constructed bars and I, in turn am looking out through them wishing, hoping, wondering what life is like on the other side of them. Occasionally I get to taste the outside world but only briefly before I’m snapped back to this hell, the hell of my being, the hell of being a Sterling.
But for the time being, I would play the role of dutiful daughter so I walked out of my house and up the road to the Sterling mansion.
Sterling Manor, 1083 Beverly Summit Dr, Beverly Hills, CA
Upon entering, I found The Family gathered in the main hall where the air seemed heavier, thick with the weight of The Family’s presence.
It was here I found my siblings lounging with calculated ease, it was here that Willow tossed her hair describing her latest Beauty Glow release campaign to Onyx.
Onyx listened to Willow as she ran her meticulously styled nails through her even more meticulously-styled hair which extended down to the small of her back through a very neatly-pulled high ponytail that looked as if it could double as a weapon, if needed.
Meanwhile, Elektra, our successful little sister talked loudly on a phone about a deal for Sterling Investments that must close on time…or else, in her usual harsh tone. For being the youngest, Elektra had developed quite a formidable business sense at a young age and a wide-ranging influence to match—by the time she was 21, Elektra’s social media posts could crater the economy of a small nation based on her political endorsements. It would seem that all manner of tycoons, politicians and others who had aspirations in the political sphere were suddenly clamoring for Elektra Sterling’s seal of approval or at least lining up to become an ally of Sterling Innovations which at least, on paper, was one of The Family’s major sources of income beyond Beauty Glow and the host of TV programs that served as the “face” of The Family such as Aurora’s World and its flagship program Family Bonds—both media juggernauts in their own right.
And in between them, Orion, my brother and the outsider of the family. Being the outsider, Orion had it the toughest out of us but because of this, Orion and I had also been the closest aside from Aurora and for good reason for we shared similar interests, similar dreams and similar desires about a world far from here, a world without the Sterlings and a world beyond the bars.
Orion playfully bantered with Aurora about Aurora’s World, Aurora’s hit reality show, and begged her to film some scenes with him on her show so he could hopefully use it as a springboard to a show of his own.
The whole scene was all perfectly curated, all perfectly controlled, as it had always been.
While Moira’s assistant poured her a martini, she said, “Kids,”her voice and tone snapping into the role of Sterling Matriarch, her mannerisms and speech following a sort of preordained guide of how the mother of a powerful family should act right down to the inflection of her voice which was imbued with the accent of someone with humble beginnings putting on airs of being bred from money. Our mother had the supreme talent of playing the role of mother not out of affection but obligation, ensuring every interaction is calculated to project power and control. This detachment of hers creates an underlying tension that ran deep within The Family itself — Moira may speak in the language of family unity, but there’s no warmth behind her words—only manipulation.
“In celebration of my upcoming birthday, we are hosting a Sterling family event. A celebration of our legacy, a showcase of who we are. The Island awaits...” she announced.
We all knew what a trip to The Island entailed, Isla Rosario was more than an island, more than a getaway, it was one of The Family’s crown jewels. Other families flaunt houses, cars, jets. But Isla Rosario was ours—a jewel glinting in the ocean, pristine and untouchable. It dazzled our guests while concealing the shadows of its true purpose.
Elektra sighed heavily, “Another vacation? Good. I need it,” Elektra sighed, slipping off her heels and rubbing her temples. “DC is exhausting, and my followers need to see me somewhere… less beige.”
My siblings nodded in syncopated agreement. Everyone always agreed with Elektra—she was a billionaire after all and I think we had been agreeing with her for so long it was just sort of learned behavior by this point.
Onyx sighed, “I will have to get a nanny for my kids, but I’m excited.”
I remained subdued letting The Family see me playing the part of the dutiful daughter, my unease masked by a practiced smile. I knew that we were more than children of Moira Sterling, we were simply assets to be managed as opposed to individuals to be loved.
As the family dispersed, I lingered in the great hall waiting for what, I’m not sure. I exchanged a glance with Moira, who must have sensed my hesitation. Turning her head towards me, Moira reminded me, “Stay the course, Celeste. Our plans for the Island are already in motion.”
“Always, mother,” I said dutifully. “The Family is forever,” I said repeating our family’s prized motto.
“Indeed,” Moira intoned as a sly smile parted her lips, It’s time for a renewal,” Moira said, swirling her martini. Her smile was faint but sharp, like a knife’s edge. “Fresh faces. Fresh energy. The Family thrives on it, don’t you think?”
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