Chapter 69 -Just Getting Started

Pinakabagong kabanata

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 90 - Count Me In

  New York in spring had a way of pretending it wasn’t the same city that ate its own the moment you blinked. The air still held a bite, but the avenues were blooming, street vendors with cheap bouquets, sun glancing off glass towers like a dare.Celeste pressed her forehead to the window of their car as they turned onto Park Avenue. She’d almost forgotten how this city could hum beneath your skin, the old energy that made her feel fifteen and fearless for a minute. But this time it was different. She wasn’t here to hustle. She wasn’t here to beg for a seat at the table. This time, they’d invited her.Damien glanced at her reflection in the tinted glass, his expression unreadable but warm at the edges. “You ready for this?”Celeste lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I suppose I am.”He reached over, brushing his knuckles under her chin until she turned to him fully. “It’s not a performance, Celeste. You’re being honored because they can’t ignore you anymore.”She laughed under her b

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 89 - A Whisper Network With Teeth

  They stayed in the kitchen long after the tea went cold. The letter sat between them on the marble island, edges smoothed and re-smoothed under Celeste’s fingers until the paper looked worn in the way secrets always did.Damien stood across from her, sleeves pushed up, eyes steady, no businessman’s armor now, just the man who’d watched her break and rebuild too many times to count.Celeste pushed her mug away, leaned her elbows on the counter, and let out a breath. “You know what bothers me most? That Lila thought she had to disappear to be safe.”Damien’s brow creased, but he didn’t interrupt.She pressed on, voice low but gaining its edge. “I keep thinking about all the ones who never even wrote the letter. How many are out there, carrying it like it’s their shame. Ghosts in this business. I can’t stand it.”“You won’t let it stand,” he said. Not a question, a quiet certainty.She looked at him the same way she had the first time she’d trusted him with the ugliest parts of her story

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 88 - A Reminder Letter

  The rain had come and gone overnight, leaving the city washed clean, or at least pretending to be. Celeste sat curled on the broad windowsill of the penthouse, knees tucked up, her fingers wrapped around a mug that had long since gone cold.Below her, Manhattan stretched gray and soft at the edges, the streets shimmering where the early sun caught rainwater pooled in potholes. If she leaned her head against the glass, she could almost pretend she was invisible up here, a woman in a glass tower, untouchable for a moment.Damien’s voice drifted in from the study behind her, low and calm in that way he had when something needed fixing. He was on another call, this time about rights clearances for the upcoming documentary they’d agreed to, or maybe about the statement they’d drafted to shut down the latest tabloid echo. Celeste couldn’t tell anymore. Some days it felt like the whole world was paperwork and PR. So much machinery just to keep standing upright.She let the hum of his voice f

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 87 - Everything You Reignited In Me

  Morning broke soft and gold over the villa. Celeste woke to find Damien’s arm draped across her hip, his breath steady against her shoulder. For a moment she just lay there, listening to the cicadas, the muted sound of the sea brushing the cliffs below.She shifted carefully, turning enough to watch him sleep, the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes, the faint stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave off because, for once, they hadn’t needed to look perfect for anyone.When he stirred, eyes blinking open, he found her smiling down at him.“What?” he rasped, voice hoarse with sleep.“You snore,” she lied.He huffed a soft laugh and pulled her closer, burying his face against her neck. “Liar.”She slipped out of bed not long after, wrapping herself in one of his old shirts, the tiny flame-shaped pendant resting warm against her collarbone. In the bathroom mirror, she caught the shape of it, a reminder, a promise to herself more than anything else.Outside, the courtyard was already alive wi

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 86 - Not A Promise

  By mid-morning, the villa smelled like fresh basil and garlic and something sweet Celeste had found in a local market basket. She stood barefoot in the kitchen, a borrowed apron tied haphazardly over her cotton slip, stirring a pot that was threatening to bubble over.Damien watched her from the doorway, wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and casual pants, his phone abandoned on the counter, for once not buzzing with headlines or calls to return. Just them, the soft clang of pots, the morning sun cutting through the high windows like a warm hush.“You’re going to burn it,” he teased, stepping in behind her.“Am not,” Celeste shot back, flicking a tiny splash of sauce at his chest.He caught her wrist before she could get away, the smear of tomato bright against his white top. “You’re dangerous with a spoon.”“And you’re overdressed for my kitchen,” she said, laughing as he crowded closer, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.“Take it up with my wardrobe,” he murmured. “I came he

• Breaking The Spotlight   Chapter 85 - The Quiet Room

  The villa’s sunroom smelled faintly of old books and fresh citrus. Celeste sat cross-legged on the low couch, a loose linen wrap knotted at her waist, hair pulled back with a clip that kept slipping free. The breeze rustled the sheer curtains behind her as she flipped through the second draft of Still Life.Across from her, Mara Lorusso, aged twenty-eight year old, hair pinned up messily with a pen, sleeves rolled to the elbows of a faded linen shirt, watched her like she might flinch at any second. She’d flown in from Rome that morning, half breathless, still clutching her laptop like armor.“You wrote this whole thing in three weeks?” Celeste asked, flipping a page with a fingertip.Mara’s voice was soft but quick. “Yes. Well. The first bones of it. I had the idea for a year, but… the voice only came after I saw your old interview. The one you did for The Artist’s Table.”Celeste frowned. “That was seven years ago.”“I know,” Mara said, eyes shining. “You said something about truth