Novels by Enzel Atad

Celeste didn’t sleep. Not a second.She lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, hearing Arrow’s words on repeat.“Then we’re done here.”He didn’t slam doors. He didn’t shout. He simply left.And somehow, that hurt more.When she finally rose from bed, the penthouse was silent. Arrow was gone. His suit jacket missing from the chair. His watch gone from the nightstand. His presence nowhere to be felt.He had fled the way people do when they’re afraid of what they’re becoming.She brewed coffee with trembling hands, but she didn’t drink it. She stared at the cup until it went cold.Her phone lit up.Father:Come to Montaire immediately. We need to fix this before the merger collapses.She didn’t answer.He called.She didn’t pick up.He called again.On the third call, she answered – only to say, “Not today,” and hang up.Her father didn’t control her anymore. Not today.By noon, her chest felt tight. Too tight. She paced the living room. The office. The balcony. Counting seconds

Celeste stared at the photo for so long she forgot how to blink.Her own face. Her own coat. Her own morning grief, frozen in a grainy snapshot.Someone had followed her. Someone wanted her to know.The phone buzzed again.Pretty wife. Shame if the world saw this from the wrong angle.Celeste slammed her phone onto the bed, chest tightening.She wasn’t afraid of the media. She wasn’t afraid of the threats. She wasn’t even afraid of losing her company. She was afraid that this was bigger than her.Bigger than Arrow.And she didn’t know how to fight it.She found Arrow in the kitchen the next morning. He sat at the table with coffee untouched, staring at something on his tablet – graphs, numbers, projections. The markers of a company under strain.He didn’t look up when she entered.Distance. The thing she had asked for. The thing that suffocated her now.“We have another problem,” she said softly.He lifted his eyes slowly – tired, guarded. “What happened?”She handed him her phone.

Celeste didn’t breathe as Arrow took the folder from her trembling hands.He flipped the first page.His expression hardened – slow, cold, dangerous.Then he snapped the folder shut. “Where did you get this?”“A courier,” she whispered. “Just now.”“Anonymous?”“Yes.”He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Of course.”Celeste hugged her arms around herself, trying to quiet the storm building in her chest. “Arrow… is any of this true?”His head snapped up.His voice was low, wounded. “Do you really have to ask me that?”She blinked rapidly, tears burning the edges of her vision. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”Arrow moved toward her, but she took a step back.He froze.The distance hurt him. It hurt her too.“Celeste,” he said tightly, “everything in that folder is a fabrication. Another setup. Another attempt to destroy us.”“Us?” she choked out. “What us, Arrow?”A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You know what I mean.”“No, I don’t.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t know what we are.

The steam from Celeste’s shower had barely faded when her phone – finally turned back on – vibrated with notifications. She was toweling her hair dry when the first message flashed across the screen.BREAKING: Leaked Emails Put Celeste Montaire’s Competence Into Question.Her blood ran cold. She opened the article.Screenshots. Dozens of them. Emails pulled from the internal system of her sustainable brand – out of context, deliberately edited, framed to make her look inexperienced, reckless, even unethical.The worst of them:“We need faster production. Find cheaper labor.” — C.M.Her chest tightened. She never wrote that. Never.She scrolled, her hands shaking as more distortions filled the screen – fake approvals, falsified instructions, manipulated correspondence.Someone was trying to destroy her.Her father? Her investors? Her old board? Arrow’s mother?Or—Her gaze flicked to the bedroom door.No.She shook her head immediately. Arrow had been the only one defending her.He wou

The café bustled with morning chatter, but all Celeste heard was her own heartbeat slamming against her ribs. Arrow’s voice still echoed from the TV screen.“Celeste is the most important person in my life.”She replayed the words over and over, even after the broadcast ended, even after the barista asked if she wanted another latte. She barely registered anything except the tremor in Arrow’s voice – steady, firm, but strained, as if he were holding back something desperate.Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her out of the café and into the cold Paris air. She needed to breathe. She needed to think.She couldn’t. Every inhale hurt.Arrow had defended her – not out of obligation, not out of strategy, not to save the merger… but for her. The world saw a polished statement. She saw the cracks in his control. The quiet devastation in his eyes. And that terrified her more than the scandal.Celeste wrapped her coat tighter around herself and started walking. The city moved

Paris tasted different when a heart was breaking.The tabloids hit the stands before sunrise, their ink still fresh when the city began to stir. By 7 a.m., Celeste’s name was everywhere – splashed across screens, plastered on street kiosks, screamed by gossip sites that thrived on blood.“Arrow De La Vega Spotted with Mystery Woman – Affair Rumors Explode.”“Exclusive: De La Vega Heir Caught Entering Paris Hotel with Model.”“Where Was Mrs. De La Vega? Sources Say Marriage Is ‘Cold and Crumbling.’”Celeste saw the headlines the moment she woke up.Her phone buzzed nonstop. Hundreds of messages. Thousands of tags. Millions of strangers dissecting her marriage like it was entertainment.But the photo – God, the photo.Arrow stepping out of a black car. A woman with long waves of dark hair trailing behind him. A hand on his arm. Flashbulbs exploding.The whole world saw it before she did.Celeste stared at the image until her vision blurred.Anger. Hurt. Rage. Fear. A storm of emotions