LOGINCeleste’s POV
I woke up with a throbbing headache. And as soon as my eyes popped open, I jolted upright.
Wait a minute, this isn’t my home.
Looking around, I noticed that the room was spacious enough, but plain and simple. With everything a creepy white.
Where am I?
I winced in pain as I tried to move my hands. Both were bandaged.
Suddenly, the pain awakened all my memories. Isadora. Genevieve. Damien.
My mother-in-law slapped me. My best friend had betrayed me. My husband hadn’t even bothered to look for the truth before labeling me a slut in front of the whole world.
I held back the tears in my eyes and began to look around. My gaze fell on a brochure on the bedside table. It said: Welcome to Ravencrest Asylum!
It was… An asylum? A mental institution?! My eyes widened. Why am I here?
Suddenly, the door swung open and I turned sharply toward it.
Damien walked in, his presence commanding as ever, though his expression remained cold and detached.
Behind him, Genevieve followed in a wheelchair, partially covered in a soft shawl. Her delicate frame made her look like the perfect victim.
A myriad of emotions hit me hard. But I stared hard at her, waiting for an explanation. Hoping just a bit that this was some kind of mistake.
Her lips trembled, and as soon as her gaze met mine, she let out a quiet sob.
"I’m so sorry, Celeste," she whispered, her voice shaking. “You shouldn’t have done those things. I couldn’t hold back the truth anymore…”
The words slammed into me. I barely had time to process the shock before Damien tossed a folder onto the table. It slid across the surface, stopping inches from my fingers.
I hesitated before picking it up with trembling hands.
"What… what is this?" My voice came out hoarse and unsteady.
Damien’s stare didn’t falter. "Your medical report."
My fingers clenched around the papers. "This… is not true."
"Isn’t it?" His voice was ice. "You attacked Genevieve. You caused a scene at the banquet. You lashed out in front of hundreds of people."
"None of that was my fault!" I took a step closer, feeling desperate. "The video was fake! The injury—she framed me! How can you not see that?!"
Damien didn’t even blink. "You know what I see?” He paused, seething. “A woman who’s willing to protect her secret lover at any cost."
I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold myself together. "Damien, I don’t have any damn secret lover. There’s no one else!” I cried out. “You know how important you are to me! I gave you my life."
"Enough with the lies." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
"But I’m not lying!"
Suddenly, Genevieve let out a soft whimper. "Celeste, please... just admit it! You betrayed Damien. You hurt me. Haven’t you done enough?"
“Admit what?” I snapped. “Why would you say that? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
"I’m your friend, but I’ve covered for you long enough, Celeste! This is for your own good!"
Genevieve stood tall, playing the role of a righteous savior—pretending she was delivering justice.
"You—LIAR!" I yelled, my anger ignited.
I lunged for her, but Damien was quick to step in between us, grabbing my wrists. “Stop this, Celeste! You’re unstable and dangerous!”
He jerked me so hard that I lost my balance, and I suddenly felt my body falling backwards. I hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
Pain shot through my back, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony in my heart. I blinked up at Damien through my tears.
For just a second, his gaze shifted with something that surprised me. Concern? Regret?
But then, Genevieve sobbed again. Damien’s shoulders squared, his face hardening once more.
“Genevieve even tried to cover for you when I saw the video,” he muttered coldly. His gaze connected with mine, and I could see his eyes filling with sheer fury. "Celeste. I can’t believe you could be so cruel."
The words stabbed right through me. Tears spilled over, but still I forced myself to sit up, my hands pressing against the cold floor.
"Damien…" I pleaded. "Please. Don't do this to me."
"Don’t touch me,” he spat out. “Being with you disgusts me."
The breath left my lungs. A sharp, empty ache spread through my chest, crushing what was left of my dignity.
The man I had spent years loving was looking at me with even more wrath and revulsion than before.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "You’re wrong. I—"
"You should be thanking Genevieve," Damien cut me off. "If it weren’t for her kindness, you’d be in prison right now."
My mouth dropped open, and my blood ran cold. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“You have to stay here and reflect on everything you’ve done, Celeste,” Damien said, his voice dripping with cold loathing.
Is he crazy? No damn way. I can’t stay here!
Auntie was still waiting for me with news about my biological parents. I was so close— finally so close to finding the truth!
"No!" I tried to stand, though my legs trembled beneath me. "I need to leave! You can’t keep me here!"
But Damien stood his ground, blocking the exit.
Then to my surprise, Genevieve touched his hand and spoke. "Damien… Let me talk to her alone."
Damien frowned, looking terribly worried. But it wasn’t for me. It was for her.
He’s thinking I might attack her again. He’s worried I might end up hurting his innocent Genevieve.
It was a sick joke, indeed.
Damien had never once looked at me that way. Never once been afraid to leave me vulnerable. But now, he was treating her like something fragile.
My scream got stuck in my throat.
“Fine,” Damien eventually said. “I’ll be right outside.”
His eyes moved toward me one last time before he turned and strode out of the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Genevieve dropped the act. The softness in her expression vanished, replaced with something sharp and cruel. Perhaps even victorious.
She let out a low, satisfied laugh. "My, my, Celeste," she purred, tilting her head. "Look at you now. How does it feel to lose everything?"
I gritted my teeth. "You piece of—"
"Don’t bother," she cut me off, rolling her eyes. "I don’t have time for your drama. No one’s going to believe you, anyway."
Rage boiled inside me, but I forced myself to stay still.
"Why?" My voice shook, but not from fear. From fury. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Genevieve smirked. "You still don’t get it, do you?" she sighed dramatically. "You still see yourself as a billionaire’s wife? Don’t be delusional. Now you’re just a famous high-society whore."
Her words twisted my heart, crushing something inside of me.
"You know, I did everything I could to get close to Damien…” she began to say with bitterness and anger. “I became his secretary. I worked harder than anyone. And yet, he still ended up marrying you." Her smile faded, eyes flashing with hatred. "A useless, pathetic little orphan girl with no potential. And you’re not even that pretty.”
I inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to shake her awake.
Genevieve leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But don’t worry," she murmured. "Everything has finally gone back to where it should be."
She tilted her head, smiling. Like she had already won.
Without thinking, I jumped at her with rage. “You—vile, scheming liar! You’ve been playing me all this time, planning to betray me all along!”
But she just laughed.
"Temper, temper," she cooed, completely unfazed. "You might want to control that. It’s exactly why Damien thinks you’re insane."
A sharp inhale stuttered past my lips. And that was when she leaned in, her lips barely moving. "Enough of this, Celeste. Just stay here and be a good girl, alright?"
“You have no right—”
She didn’t let me finish. “Stay here or I’ll have the orphanage shut down. It’s just one call away.”
My eyes widened. The air left my lungs. No! Not the orphanage!
Genevieve sighed, inspecting her nails. "Auntie and those poor, helpless children... What would they do if they suddenly had nowhere to go? If they ended up on the streets, starving, straying?"
She tilted her head, smirking again. "You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you?"
The walls of the asylum seemed to close in around me. My heartbeat pounded in my skull. And in that moment, I realized the hard, painful truth.
I was trapped, left with no choice. And she fucking knew it.
Celeste’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
Celeste’s POV“You hung that crooked.”I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s intentional.”Damien lifted a brow. “Intentional asymmetry?”“Very avant-garde,” I said solemnly, nudging the frame a fraction to the left. It tilted again.He stepped closer. “You realize the customers will think it fell.”“Only the ones without vision.”He laughed under his breath and reached past me, fingers brushing my wrist as he straightened it. The contact was brief. Accidental. Harmless.My heart disagreed.“There,” he said. “Now it’s intentional and straight.”I swallowed. “Show-off.”The shop was nearly ready—walls painted, racks installed. Sunlight spilled through the front window, catching on glass shelves and metal rails, making everything glow like it already believed in itself.So did Damien.That was the problem.We moved around each other with an ease that felt dangerous—two people who knew each other’s rhythms too well, pretending we didn’t. Every time he got close, every time our shoulders brus
Genevieve’s POVDays passed.I went to work. I shelved books. I smiled when spoken to. I slept in short, fractured stretches and woke with the same burden pressing on my chest every morning.But I didn’t recover.Well, okay. That was an understatement. Because in reality, I was a wreck. Guilt clung to me like a second skin—itchy, inescapable, settling deeper every time I tried to shake it off. Shame followed close behind, coiling into my bones in a way I had never known before. I had lived with regret. I had lived with anger. I had even lived with cruelty.This was different.Knowing that the parents I had once rejected—because they were poor—had never stopped looking for me shattered something inside me. They had lost everything in the search. Every resource. Every comfort. And my siblings had grown up carrying that loss, living a life shaped by the absence I left behind.The pain lodged in my chest, sharp and suffocating, unlike anything I had ever felt.I didn’t know how to exist
Damien’s POVMy feet slowed, then turned, then started moving toward my father’s office instead of the conference room. Curiosity wasn’t the right word for it. Instinct was. The kind you develop when your childhood teaches you that closed doors and lowered voices usually mean damage.The hallway ou
Damien’s POV“Run it again,” I said.The screen refreshed, lines of access logs cascading downward in muted blue and gray. Damn. Too clean. Something’s off. My trusted head of internal security, Ross, leaned against the edge of the desk. “We’ve run it six times already. Same result.”“Good,” I re
Celeste’s POVI spun around so fast I nearly lost my balance.Nothing.The street behind me was bare—just closed shopfronts, a couple walking farther down the block, the soft buzz of a passing scooter. No Theo. No shadow. No pair of eyes burning a hole through my spine.“Oh my God,” I whispered und
Nico’s POVI was up before dawn like some motivated farm boy. If anyone had told me I’d do that voluntarily, I’d have punched them for lying.But yeah, I did it. And I was actually looking forward to working today at the ranch. Fuck. What’s happening to me?Yet there was a stupid grin on my face a







