Celeste’s POV I agreed to Damien’s request to meet, trying to sound calm while my heart beat like crazy. After ending the call, I stood there dazed in the living room, phone still in my hand, the weight of what was to come already pressing on my shoulders. It all felt surreal. Theo glanced up from the couch, concern showing on his face. “You’re going to meet with Damien?” he asked, already knowing.I nodded. “He wants to talk about the divorce.”Theo’s expression didn’t change much, but I noticed the slight tightening of his jaw. “Do you want me to come with you?”There it was—his instinct to protect. He always offered that quietly, never forcefully. And yet… I shook my head.“No. I need to go alone. I have to do this by myself, Theo.”This time, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to trouble him, or because I feared the press would twist something out of nothing. Well, maybe that too. But more than anything, I didn’t want him dragged into my mess.He had already done enough.“You’ve h
Celeste’s POV I sat there, spine straight, heart clenched in anticipation.He hadn’t picked up the pen yet. It lay there on the table between us, gleaming under the garden lights, like a sword waiting to be drawn. His eyes flicked to mine—and then, slowly, to the document.I said nothing.On the surface, I remained poised. Cold, composed, detached. But beneath that mask, a trace of nervousness coiled tight in my stomach, refusing to leave. My fingers pressed against my lap, steadying themselves, hiding the tremor that threatened to betray me.He reached for the document, paused, and let his hand hover above it. His eyes moved over the pages again slowly and deliberately. For a moment, I thought he might back out. That he would look up and say he couldn’t do it.But he didn’t.His fingers closed around the pen.And with the same calm finality that once marked the beginning of our story, Damien signed his name.The pen slowly glided across the page. There was no hesitation in his hand,
Celeste’s POVThe bar was dimly lit and the air was tinged with the stale scent of spilled whiskey and forgotten regrets. People spoke in hushed tones, but none of it registered. The world felt muted, like it was trying not to disturb me.I sat alone at the counter, the amber liquid in my glass almost all gone. It burned going down—but that was the point.Alcohol was the best anesthetic. It numbed the ache in my chest, dulled the sharp sting of memories I wasn’t ready to confront.It's over, damn it. The marriage. The façade. The illusion that maybe, just maybe, he’d come to love me.I had given everything to that man. And in return, he’d given me humiliation.My god! The betrayal and accusations... The imprisonment in that goddamn asylum like I was something to be hidden and left to suffer and rot. I’d looked down at my own trembling hands once and seen blood. My blood. A quiet scream for help no one ever heard.Back then, I promised myself—if I ever got out, I would cut him out of
Damien’s POVThe data was wrong. Again.I slammed the folder down on the boardroom table. "You had one job," I snapped, my voice cold and cutting. "And this is what you bring me? Faulty projections, incomplete charts, and a model that looks like it was thrown together by an intern?"No one dared speak. The room was thick with tension, and even the senior executives looked like they wanted to shrink into their seats.I didn’t care.Because the truth was, I wasn’t just angry about the data.I was angry about everything.The divorce. The headlines. The way she looked at me during that final meeting, like I was nothing. The way she didn’t even blink when she signed her name next to mine. Like it meant nothing.Like I meant nothing.A surge of pressure built behind my temples, my teeth grinding together while silence dragged on. Finally, I straightened and adjusted my cufflinks, dismissing them with a cold flick of my fingers."Fix it. Now."They filed out without a word, avoiding eye cont
Damien’s POVI sat in silence for a long time, the document still open on my desk, the edges curling beneath my fingers.Genevieve’s name stared back at me, bold and inarguable in transaction logs and email metadata.I couldn’t reconcile it. The woman who had stood beside me through everything and had been such a great friend—why would she involve herself in something like this? Why target Celeste?I groaned, my head swimming with confusion, my heart constricting from the rising emotions. And yet, I couldn’t just go to her—not when she had walked away with that terrifying calm, as if everything between us had meant nothing. Not when she had thrown away her ring and hadn’t looked back.But I could fix this. I could clean up the mess, silence the voices, and push back against the vultures circling her name.I can protect her. Even if she doesn’t want me to.I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting to the edge of my desk—where a photo sat half-obscured beneath a folder.Oh, Celeste…
Celeste’s POVThe reflection staring back at me in the mirror didn’t look like someone falling apart.No—she looked polished, collected. Ready for the world. But deep inside, I could feel it—the quiet flutter of nerves, the whisper of uncertainty that had followed me from the moment I zipped up the gown.This is it. My first real step back into the world.My fingers brushed down the fabric of the dress I had designed myself. Every stitch carried a piece of me—every pleat, every fold, a reminder that I had once belonged in this industry. That I had once been brilliant. That I could be brilliant again.I had sacrificed so much for Damien. And when it all came crashing down, there was nothing left of me but ashes.But ashes could be reborn.I wasn’t going to walk into that ballroom as Damien Vaughn’s ex-wife. I wasn’t going to be the scandalous woman in tabloid headlines or the poor soul people pitied.I was walking in as Celeste Monroe. Designer. Creator. Survivor.And tonight, I wasn
Celeste’s POVGasps rippled through the crowd like a stone breaking still water.For a moment, the flashes of camera phones slowed, like even the press didn’t know what to do with what they were seeing.I caught glimpses of expressions—wide eyes, parted lips, frozen smiles.“Is that her? Isn’t she the scandalous ex-wife?”“Wait, she looks... stunning. But why is she here and why is he with her?”“I hate to say it, but… damn. That dress is a showstopper. Did a designer actually choose her to debut that look?”“Why would a dress like that be lent to her?”The whispers struck like arrows, each one trying to slice through the calm I wore like armor.But I kept walking.I felt Theo beside me like a steady force. He didn’t flinch beneath the attention, didn’t falter under the weight of our spectacle.But the looks weren’t for him. They were for us.Because in the eyes of the elite, in the minds of those who only understand currency in power and status, how you arrive—and with whom—was the l
Damien’s POVI lifted my glass to my lips without tasting the champagne. The conversations around me blurred into a background hum of empty pleasantries.Fake laughter. Hollow compliments. Meaningless alliances sealed with overpriced wine.I hated this. But Genevieve thrived on it.She stood a few paces away, wearing a luxurious gown, greeting the crowd with her signature smile. Every word, every gesture calculated. Definitely charming. A perfect performance indeed. Meanwhile, I was just trying to keep my temper in check.Another executive approached, all handshakes and toothy grins. I nodded, murmured something polite, and checked my watch for the fifth time in ten minutes.And then it happened. I caught murmurs—words floating in low whispers:“Is that Theo Mercer?” “He brought someone?” “Wait… is that his girlfriend?” “I didn’t know he was seeing anyone…”My gut twisted before I even turned.Theo? A girlfriend?No. That wasn’t possible. I would’ve heard something. The man didn’t
Celeste’s POVThe banquet was drawing to a close. And for the first time in a long while, I felt still.Fulfilled.Like maybe, just maybe, all the stress, the sleepless nights, the pressure I’d quietly carried on my back—had been worth it.Not only had Madam Diane publicly praised my work, but the buzz I’d been hearing all night—the sideways glances, the whispered names, the cards slipped discreetly into my palm—told me everything I needed to know.People were paying attention now. Not because of the scandal, but because of what I could create.This was another high point in my career—one that I had carved out with my own two hands.First, the recognition from Sebastian, a highly-esteemed icon in the fashion world who rarely praised anyone, and now this.I took a small sip of wine and let my shoulders relax.And in that moment of quiet—“Excuse me, ma’am?”I turned slightly, lowering my glass.A man in a tailored uniform bowed politely. “Our chairman would like to have a word with you
Damien’s POV"I know she's with someone else," I said quietly, setting my glass down harder than necessary. "But I can’t live without her."The words felt heavy coming out, raw and ugly in my throat. Admitting it made me feel like I was tearing open a wound that had never fully healed.Rob just stared at me.He opened his mouth once like he wanted to say something, then closed it again. Ran a hand down his face. Shook his head in disbelief.Finally, he leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. "You’re serious," he said, as if he still couldn’t believe it.I nodded once.His mouth twitched, like he wanted to curse or laugh or maybe both, but he didn’t. He just sighed heavily, his voice turning more serious than I'd heard it all night."Then you can’t fight her," Rob said. "And you sure as hell can’t fight him either."I frowned. "Then what?""You offer her something she can’t ignore," he said simply. "You figure out what she needs most... and you give it to her."I stared at him, his
Damien’s POVI left the room.I needed to find Celeste first—she would know more about Genevieve’s plans—she was part of this.And that Genevieve...How many more secrets was she hiding?I thought back to the moments I had spent with her. She had always worn that sweet, flawless smile.But who knew what lurked beneath it?I pushed through the thinning crowd, ignoring the fake smiles, the clinking glasses, the meaningless noise.At the entrance, I caught sight of an event staff member adjusting a clipboard under her arm. I cut straight toward her."Celeste Monroe," I said tightly. "Have you seen her?"The woman blinked up at me, startled. "Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Vaughn. But Miss Monroe left a little earlier, sir."The word hit harder than it should have."With who?" My voice was sharp, clipped.She glanced at her notes. “I believe it was someone who was inquiring about her designs. Perhaps a new client? I’m so sorry, I don’t have more information.” “Was it a man or a woman? What did they l
Genevieve’s POVMy pulse skipped. Damien glanced at me once, cool and unreadable. “D-Damien…” I stammered, fear rising in my chest. “I… I didn’t know you were there.” My fingers clenched around my phone, cold sweat prickling at the back of my neck.Were my hands shaking? I curled them tighter to hide it.I forced a small, broken laugh, desperate to fill the awful silence. “Were you… waiting to use the room?”“Yes,” he said with a blank expression. “Didn’t realize you’d be in there so long.”My mouth went dry. I stepped aside quickly. “S-sorry.”I couldn’t tell if he’d heard anything. His face gave nothing away, and that scared me more than if he’d been angry.He walked past me and into the room without another word.But I could feel his gaze trailing after me as I walked away. I didn’t dare look back. ***Damien’s POVI watched her walk away, her steps too quick, too stiff—like she knew I was still standing there. Like she knew I’d heard something.And she was right.I had.Not ever
Genevieve’s POVIsadora swooped in the second Damien walked away, grabbing my arm with perfectly manicured fingers and a sharp whisper."Did you see that?" she seethed. "My son—he didn’t even spare me a second look! After everything I’ve done for him!"Isadora didn’t stop, “And now? He walks past me like I’m a stranger on the street!"I barely managed to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. If I were Damien, I wouldn’t want to bother with you either.Is throwing tantrums really the only trick you know? Have you ever tried using any other way?I shifted my gaze away, careful not to let my disdain show. Swallowing all my irritation and keeping my expression neutral.But Isadora, of course, wasn’t satisfied with my half-hearted silence. Her voice pitched just slightly louder, “What are you looking at?”“Em… Damien,” I conjured the first excuse that came to mind. “It’s just… it’s been so long since I last saw him. And Celeste is here tonight too. I’m worried…”I trailed off deliberately,
Celeste’s POV“An invitation,” she said. “To the event I’m attending. It’s a political summit, but the social side of it is just as important. Every major name will be there. I want you there—to represent your work. People should know who designed this.”I stared at the envelope in awe. She smiled again. “Besides, it’s about time you got the spotlight you deserve.”And just like that, everything I had worked for—every sleepless night, every doubt, every tear I didn’t let fall—felt worth it.*****The ballroom shimmered with gold and glass, every surface reflecting wealth and power. People weren’t just arriving—they were arriving to be seen.And tonight, I had every right to be one of them.I walked in alone, head held high, and took it all in. I hadn’t even reached the center of the room when I heard it—“Celeste?”Genevieve stood just a few feet away, mouth slightly parted in shock. Her eyes scanned me up and down, clearly not expecting to see me here.Standing beside her, Isadora h
Celeste’s POVHarper stared at me like I had just told her the man she was interested in was a criminal.“Wait, wait, wait.” She leaned back in her chair, brows high and lips curled into a wince. “That guy—that rude, grumpy, gorgeous guy—is Genevieve’s brother?”I nodded as I sipped what was remaining of my orange juice. She let out a sharp breath, like the information physically offended her. “Well, that’s that. Instant ick. I’m officially over it.”I couldn’t help but laugh. “That fast, huh?”She shuddered dramatically. “Celeste, you know how I feel about Genevieve. If that girl’s made of fire, evil, and poison, her brother has to be at least 60% venom.”“Maybe,” I said carefully, setting my cup down. “But I don’t think he’s like her. Not entirely.”“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Harper said, narrowing her eyes. “Apples don’t fall far from their trees—so I’d rather stay far, far away from that entire family.”“He was… different when he talked to me,” I said slowly. How h
Celeste’s POVI felt like I was running on fumes—half alive, half driven by adrenaline and desperation. My eyes burned and my head throbbed.But I couldn’t stop.When I looked up, Harper was watching me from across the room, her expression soft with concern and just a hint of judgment.She walked over quietly and placed a cup of something warm on the table beside me.“Tea,” she said, before I could ask. “And don’t even think about asking for more coffee. I believe you’ve had enough caffeine to fuel a small country this week.”I managed a tired smile but didn’t protest. The truth was, my hands were beginning to tremble from the nonstop coffee runs. The kind of exhaustion that sleep couldn’t fix had started to settle deep into my bones.She sat across from me and watched as I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the steam soothe my face.“You’ve been pushing too hard,” she said gently.“I don’t have a choice.”“You do,” she insisted, frowning. “You just refuse to take it.”I shook m
Celeste’s POVThe orphanage stood before me like a ghost that had learned how to breathe again.It had been rebuilt, but I still felt the burn in my chest. As if the fire that tore through it had somehow reached me, even from miles away.Theo stood quietly beside me, his presence grounding me. I remembered screaming when I saw the fire in the news. But after I had gotten out of the asylum, all I’d cared about was Auntie’s health. Seeing her. Knowing she survived. I didn’t let myself think about the rest of it—the fire, the children, the memories reduced to ash.The laughter, the songs, the scraped knees and stolen cookies—gone. The only sound now was the wind pushing through the trees.“They relocated the children, right?” I asked, not looking at Theo.He nodded. “After the fire. A few to new homes, others to partner institutions.”“And no one ever said how it started.”Theo hesitated. “The report said it was an electrical fault. But…”Anger sparked within me as I thought about what