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.
Genevieve’s POVThe man across the ballroom caught my eye — tall, poised, with a faint burn along his temple. I couldn’t stop looking at him.There was something about the way he carried himself — the deliberate stillness, the quiet arrogance beneath the tailored suit.Very familiar.My stomach tightened.No. Impossible.I leaned slightly forward in my chair, pretending to reach for my glass of wine while my gaze stayed fixed on him through the rim. He was speaking to another man — broader shoulders, clean-cut, alert — but it was the first one who unsettled me.He looked like him.For one absurd second, my breath caught.It’s really Damien. He’d followed me here. But Nico had called barely two hours ago. He’d told me Damien’s car had exploded outside Avignon. That the man was lucky to still be breathing.“He’s alive,” Nico had said, “but barely. She’ll suffer watching him fade.”So no — it couldn’t be him. Not standing there, unscathed, in a black suit under Parisian chandeliers.Sti
Damien’s POVParis shimmered ahead of us — a city that could make sin look like art.We drove past the glittering façades of the Rue de Rivoli until the Hôtel du Louvre loomed into view, its grand ballroom blazing with light and laughter.Jake adjusted his tie, glancing at me. “You sure about this?”“I didn’t come this far to sit it out.”My ribs still ached from the blast, and my left arm was wrapped tight under my sleeve. The explosion had left a few burns and bruises, but the doctor’s injection kept the pain dull enough to move. What mattered was that Genevieve thought I was lying half-dead somewhere in the south of France.Good. Let her think that.Tonight, I wasn’t Damien Vaughn.I was Daniel Verne, a discreet investor representing Blackwell Holdings, one of the Aurora Foundation’s newest “international partners.” Jake was my associate, Mr. Hayes. The IDs, the invitations, the digital records — all forged within hours by the same network that had pulled me from the wreckage.“Kee
Nico’s POVThe flicker of the television painted the living room in shades of orange and blue — smoke, fire, twisted metal. A looping clip of Damien Vaughn’s car reduced to ash.I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber light catch the edges. Perfect symmetry, I thought. A neat end to a messy problem.“It’s done,” I muttered, almost to myself. “The hired man handled it perfectly.”Soline didn’t share my satisfaction. She was pacing near the window, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floor. Every few seconds, her eyes darted to the TV as if the story might suddenly change.“Handled?” she said sharply. “They said he’s still alive.”I leaned back, taking another sip, savoring the burn. “Barely,” I said. Then a smirk crept across my lips. “Well, Genevieve wants to keep him alive so he and Celeste can suffer longer.”I said it casually — like we were discussing the weather. There was even a chuckle buried in my throat.Soline stopped pacing. The look she gave me made m
Celeste’s POVFor a moment, everything inside me stopped.Then it all came crashing back — a rush of disbelief and nausea that made the world tilt on its axis.I pressed my hands to my mouth, shaking my head. “No. No, that can’t be—”Michael caught me before my knees gave out. “Hey, hey. Breathe, Celeste. We don’t know the full details yet.”“But his car—” The words splintered in my throat. “You said it exploded.”He hesitated, jaw tight. “That’s what the report said. But there’s been no confirmation if—if he made it out.”Harper appeared behind him, wide-eyed and pale. “Oh my God, Celeste.” She hurried over and helped Michael guide me to the couch. I didn’t even remember walking.I sank down, every muscle trembling. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. The words explosion and car kept echoing in my head, refusing to make sense.It couldn’t be real. Not Damien. Not him.He had just been here — standing right in front of me, stubborn as always, determined to protect me even when I didn
Celeste’s POVI sat on the edge of Auntie Eleanor’s bed, smoothing the blanket between my fingers. The lamplight cast a soft gold over the room, touching her silver hair and the small smile that rarely left her face, even when worry lived behind it.“I still can’t believe Alain’s involved in any of this,” she murmured, shaking her head slowly. “He’s such a fine young man. Kind. A good nurse, too.”I forced a faint smile. “He seems to be.”She reached for my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “And I can see how he cares for you, Celeste. Don’t let one rumor make you doubt that.”I sighed, my gaze drifting to the window where the curtains fluttered with the night breeze. “It’s not just a rumor anymore, Auntie. There are pictures. Evidence.”Eleanor’s brow furrowed. “Even so… people can be misunderstood. I know what I saw in his eyes when he looked at you.”That made my chest tighten. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I said quietly. “It’s hard to trust anyone these days.”Auntie El
Damien’s POVThe road to the Lancaster estate shimmered faintly under the morning sun, the wet gravel catching light like glass. Provence was quiet this early — deceptively peaceful, the kind of stillness that made you forget how fast things could burn.I shouldn’t have come.But I couldn’t leave for Paris without seeing her. Not knowing what tomorrow might bring.The guards at the gate already recognized me. They didn’t ask questions, only nodded me through. And there she was — Celeste.She stood by the balustrade in a white blouse and soft gray trousers, sunlight brushing her hair into gold. Calm. Composed. Every inch the woman who had learned to build her own armor.When she turned and saw me, her brows rose, but she didn’t look startled. “You’re persistent,” she said, her voice cool, steady. “I thought I made it clear you should stop showing up unannounced.”“I know.” I took a slow breath. “But I’m leaving for Paris. I needed to tell you in person.”Her lips pressed together. “To







