LOGIN"Please, I didn't betray you! I gave up everything for you. Don't I deserve your trust?" Celeste fell to her knees, pleading with her husband, Damien. "My trust? Hah, that's not something I'd give to a filthy slut," Damien said coldly, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. ****** Celeste's world shattered on their wedding anniversary. The man she loved and her dearest friend had conspired against her. They betrayed her, framed her, and humiliated her without mercy. But the worst part? They even locked her away in a mental institution, stripping her of her freedom. What could Celeste do to fight back? She had only one choice—ruthless revenge. "If they dare to betray me, they must face the full force of my wrath!" When Celeste finally let go of love, however,Damien suddenly changed. He pulled Celeste into a firm embrace "I've been searching for you so long. Please, forgive me and love me again!" But Celeste merely gazed at him, her voice devoid of emotion. "That is not something I give to you, my ex-husband."
View MoreCeleste’s POVAs the soft launch wound down and the shop grew quieter, the warmth that lingered felt earned rather than performative. The easy laughter faded into softer conversations, chairs were nudged back into place, and the space exhaled with me, as if it, too, had been holding its breath all afternoon.My mother lingered.She moved from rack to rack with unhurried intent, selecting a few pieces and holding them up thoughtfully before nodding to herself. There was no hesitation in her movements, no shadow crossing her face—just calm certainty.“These,” she said, gathering them into her arms. “To mark the beginning.”I smiled, touched by the gesture. “You don’t have to—”“I want to,” she interrupted gently. “And I’m telling everyone about this place.”She was already pulling out her phone, enthusiasm brightening her eyes. “I’m wearing one of these to a party next week. People will surely ask. I’ll make sure they know where it’s from— my talented fashion designer daughter.”“You’r
Celeste’s POVThe shop felt even more alive once people were inside it.It was a soft launch by design—no banners, no speeches, no spectacle—but the warmth settled into the space almost immediately, carried in by familiar voices and excited conversations. My mother stood near the first display rack, fingers brushing over the fabric with a reverence that made my chest tighten. She didn’t say much, just nodded to herself, pride radiating from her in a way that was quiet and unwavering.My father wasn’t there. He was in the U.S., attending to things he insisted were temporary but necessary. But he’d sent me a message of congratulations earlier, and that was enough for me. Michael lingered near the back of the shop, watchful as ever, his presence steady without being intrusive. Auntie Eleanor moved slowly through the space, taking her time with each piece, her fingers brushing fabric as if she were afraid to rush the moment, her hand occasionally coming to rest against her chest.“This
Nico’s POVThe morning after the ranch’s opening dawned deceptively peaceful.Sunlight rolled over the hills in slow, honeyed waves, catching on the fences and the dew-heavy grass like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong here. Families were already filtering back in—kids tugging at their parents’ hands, asking about the horses, the games, the food stalls that had been such a hit the day before. Laughter carried easily in the air, light and unguarded.If you hadn’t been here yesterday, you would’ve thought this place had always been like this.Successful. Settled. Safe.On paper, everything had gone exactly as planned. The events ran smoothly, the staff handled the crowd like pros, and even the weather cooperated. No accidents. No scenes. No disruptions. Harry Jones—of all people—kept his head down, stayed just long enough to be seen and to rattle Sage for a while. But that was it. That alone should’ve reassured me.I stood near the main barn, coffee cooling in my hand, watching
Harper’s POVIt started as a thought I tried to brush away.Late. Just… late.I stood in the bathroom staring at my reflection, fingers gripping the edge of the sink a little too tightly. The house was very quiet—afternoon light slanting through the window like it was minding its own business while my heart continued to race. “It’s nothing,” I told myself out loud. My voice sounded normal. Convincing. “Travel. Stress. Different food. A hundred reasons.”I laughed weakly. “Relax.”But the calendar in my head refused to cooperate.Late enough that curiosity had turned into dread.The pharmacy trip was a blur. I don’t even remember paying. I remember the cashier wishing me a nice day and me nodding absent-mindedly. Back in the bathroom, I locked the door.Just in case.“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, ripping open the box with shaking fingers. “You’re being dramatic.”The test felt heavier than it should have in my hand.I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at it like it might bite m
Damien’s POVI couldn’t stop thinking about the shop.It followed me through my online meetings, through emails I answered on autopilot, through the quiet moments when my mind should have been elsewhere. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Celeste’s sketches spread across the café table, the spark i
Damien’s POV“Who sent you?” I asked the man calmly.Silence.I nodded once. “Search him.”One of the guards moved in, efficient, professional. The man stiffened but didn’t resist as pockets were checked, jacket patted down, shoes examined. No weapon turned up—not on his body, anyway. No stolen ite
Nico’s POV“Fence line on the west pasture needs one more pass.”“I’m on it,” I said, already moving.The day before opening felt like controlled chaos—the kind that looked organized from a distance but threatened to unravel if anyone blinked too long. The sun had barely cleared the hills when we s
Celeste’s POV“Tell me again why the goat magnet was necessary,” I said as we stepped back inside the shop.“Because,” Damien replied solemnly, closing the door behind us, “one day you’ll open your fridge, see it, and remember that you survived this phase of your life with impeccable taste.”I snor






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