Harper’s POVI spotted him the second I stepped into the hallway. Damien Vaughn—towering, grim, all sharp lines and shadowed brows. And standing across from him was Tomas, the janitor Celeste had risked her life for. The air between them was tight. Like something was about to snap.Damien was saying something low, too low to hear. But I knew that look. The same one he wore when he thought he had control—when he wanted answers.Poor Tomas. “Excuse me,” I said, cutting across the space between them, my heels clicking a little too sharply against the floor.Damien turned, surprised. His gaze flicked toward me, then narrowed.Great. I’d already ruined his interrogation scene.“Harper,” he muttered. “You’re here.”“Of course.” I offered him a tight smile. “I’m always here for Celeste. I suppose that’s why you’re here too? To check on her?”“Yes, I’m really hoping she’ll be fine. They’ve found some traces of —”“Yeah, more tests will be done,” I interrupted. Then turning to Tomas, I said,
Damien’s POV“She’s going to serve time,” my lawyer Raymond Cruz said, flipping through the folder in front of him. “Genevieve’s charges are too damning to dodge now—identity fraud, obstruction, bribery, and the release of that video. It’s all in here.”I leaned back, jaw tight. “What about Nico?”Raymond exhaled through his nose, setting the file down. “Still gray. Nothing concrete yet. No verified identity, no financial trails we can trace, no digital signature strong enough to stick. And unless Genevieve opens her mouth, he’s untouchable.”“She won’t,” I muttered. “Not unless she gains from it.”“She’s not going to flip unless she’s desperate.”“She’s already desperate,” I said darkly. “But it’s not just about her anymore. This guy—Nico—I think he’s the architect. He’s the one who probably planned all this and executed most of it, and I’m sure he’s tied to the Lancasters. I know it. He’s the rot at the center of all of this.”Raymond gave me a flat look. “And yet we’ve got no proof
Genevieve’s POVI finally met my damn family in prison—the very people who, according to Nicolas, were supposedly my only lifeline. I deliberately didn't clean myself up, letting my disheveled appearance speak for itself. Though honestly, I didn't need to fake looking haggard; my cellmates were making every day a living hell for me.But nothing could’ve prepared them for the sight of me.Viv Lancaster's eyes welled up the second she stepped inside. Her manicured fingers flew to her mouth like she was trying to muffle a sob. Her husband Nathaniel froze in place, his gaze dragging over my hollowed cheeks and the bruises I couldn’t cover. And Michael—he just stared, his expression unreadable.“Genevieve…” Viv’s voice cracked as she stepped closer. “Oh my God, what have they done to you?”I didn’t run to her. I waited, sitting quietly, trembling just enough to seem fragile. “You came,” I whispered, voice raw.She wrapped her arms around me like she truly believed I belonged to her. I le
Celeste’s POV“Do you want tea or something stronger?” Harper asked as we stepped into the apartment.I gave her a tired half-smile. “Tea. I think my nerves have been through enough today.”She nodded and headed for the kitchen while I wandered into the living room, my body moving on autopilot.I collapsed onto the couch with a long exhale, letting my body sink into the cushions. Harper soon appeared again, handing me a cup of tea. “You need to rest your brain,” she said, nudging me gently with her knee. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll pull up that hit drama everyone’s been raving about—you know, the one with the lawyer and the fake marriage plot. You need fluff, triangles, amnesia and secret heirs.”I managed a weak smile. “You mean you need those things.”She shrugged, unbothered. “Semantics.”With a chuckle, I reached for my laptop. It felt heavier than I remembered. I flipped it open and hit the power button, watching the familiar glow return to the screen.“Tell me when the fi
Genevieve’s POVThey say prison changes you. But no one told me how fast.The walls here breathe misery. It sinks into your skin, curls around your bones. By the second day, I stopped screaming. No one cared. No one listened. Not even the guards.I used to be someone. Someone who could twist a smile into a threat, who walked through glass towers in heels sharp enough to draw blood. Now I can barely look at my reflection without wincing. It started the moment the cell door clanged shut. The other inmates took one look at my face—at my expensive haircut, the way I stood too straight, like the world still owed me something—and decided I needed to be broken.And they did.I thought I was clever, unpredictable. A little unhinged maybe—but never weak. Never like this.But there’s nothing clever about crying into a thin pillow while someone twice your size threatens to carve your face up in the dark. The bruises fade. The humiliation doesn't.They made fun of how I talked. How I carried my
Damien’s POVMichael stared hard at me in bewilderment. His brows furrowed. “Nico? How the hell should I know him?”He looked genuinely puzzled, like I’d just pulled the name out of thin air. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”I narrowed my eyes. “Really? That’s your answer?”I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “I’ve been digging into this for months. That man’s a ghost—no records, no digital trail, not even a paper receipt to his name. But Genevieve knew him. I even met him regularly at some hotel.” I watched his expression closely, though it didn’t seem to change or give any hint that he was lying. “So tell me again, Michael. Who the hell is Nico?”Michael’s jaw tightened. “If he’s so well-hidden, how would I know him?”I didn’t blink. “That’s exactly the point. We’ve searched for months and found nothing. No digital footprint. No employment history. No official ID. Nothing. You know what that kind of erasure usually means?”He didn’t answer, but I saw the shift in his