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Against All Odds

Author: Oma
last update publish date: 2026-06-14 23:36:26

ATHENA'S POV:

The conference room is empty when I walk back in.

The chairs are pushed back from the table, still warm from the bodies of the executives who just spent four hours arguing with me about distribution rights and profit margins and the future of a brand that everyone said I was crazy to go after. The whiteboard is covered in my handwriting, arrows and circles and crossed out numbers that tell the story of how I won. The coffee cups are scattered across the table, half empty, the dreg
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    VIVIENNE'S POV: ​I pick up my phone. I dial the number of the same tabloid reporter who ran my first story. Her name is Patricia. She is a vulture, a scavenger, a woman who would sell her own mother for a good story. She is perfect. ​I wait as the line rings three times, my heart beating with a dark, bitter excitement in my chest as she finally picks my call. Nonsense. ​"I have something even bigger," I say. "Something that will destroy the Ashcroft family forever." ​She is interested. Of course she is interested. She cannot resist a scandal. ​"What is it?" she asks, her voice sharp with anticipation. ​"Elara Ashcroft-Valancourt and Alistair Ashcroft," I say. "They are lovers. They have been having a secret incestuous affair for weeks. The whole family has been hiding it." ​There is a pause on the other end of the line. I can practically hear her salivating. ​"Do you have proof?" she asks. ​"I have photos," I say. "I have evidence. I have everything you need." ​I send her th

  • After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me   Vivienne's Desperation

    ​VIVIENNE'S POV:​I am so fucking furious.​I slam my phone down onto the small wooden table, almost cracking the plastic cover as my breath comes out in ragged, angry gasps.​That is not a strong enough word. I am incandescent. I am raging. I am burning with a fury that has been building for decades, a fury that has been simmering beneath the surface of my carefully constructed facade, waiting for the moment when I could finally let it loose.​My knuckles turn white as I clench my fists so tightly that my fingernails dig straight into my palms.​Celestine has outmaneuvered me. Just like she always does. Just like she has been doing since the day she walked into my son's life and stole him away from me. She has humiliated me on national television. She has exposed my secrets. She has destroyed my reputation.​She stood up there at that podium looking so righteous, handing out private papers as if she had every right in the world to judge me.​The headlines are everywhere. They are spl

  • After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me   Celestine's Response

    ​CELESTINE'S POV:​I stand in front of the mirror in my dressing room, looking at the woman staring back at me.​I take a slow breath, letting my gaze sweep over the reflection I have known for a lifetime, noting every small change time has left behind.​She is fifty seven years old. Her dark hair is streaked with a bit silver, but it is still thick and beautiful, falling in waves around her shoulders. Her face is lined with age, but her eyes are still sharp, still fierce, still burning with a fire that has not dimmed with time. She has survived more than most people could imagine. She has been broken and rebuilt and broken again. And she is still standing.​I reach up to adjust a loose strand of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to gather the strength I know I will need for what comes next.​I smooth down the front of my dress. It is simple and elegant, a deep navy blue that makes my eyes look brighter. I do not need to be flashy. I do not need to be dramatic. I just need to be hon

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