LOGINCELESTINE'S POV:A Few Days Later…The car pulls up to Alistair's London penthouse, and I sit for a moment, staring at the modern glass building that rises against the gray sky. The tall structure gleams cold and sharp in the dim afternoon light. The city hums around us, traffic and sirens and the distant murmur of millions of lives being lived. But inside this car, there is only silence. A heavy, suffocating silient that feels like it might snap at any second.Lysander is beside me. He reaches over and takes my hand. His fingers are warm and steady, grounding me in a way that only he can."Are you ready?" he asks.I squeeze his fingers. "I have to be."We get out of the car. The doorman recognizes us and ushers us inside without a word. The elevator ride is silent, the soft buzz of the machinery the only sound. I watch the numbers climb higher and higher, digital red digits flashing on the wall, and I feel my heart pound harder and harder against my ribs.I do not know what I
ELARA'S POV: Every picture feels like a violent invasion, proving that someone was hiding nearby, watching our private moments through a camera lens. The article is filled with speculation and scandal. It calls our relationship incestuous. It calls us disgusting. It calls the Ashcroft family a den of secrets and lies. "Shocking Secrets of the Ashcroft Family Exposed." "Incest Scandal Rocks Ashcroft Family." My phone buzzes again. And again. And again. The notifications keep coming. Messages from friends and colleagues and people I have not spoken to in years. The comments are brutal. People who know nothing about our lives or our history feel completely justified typing out awful insults under every picture. "I cannot believe you would do that." "You are disgusting." "How could you sleep with your own brother?" "Shame on you." I feel sick. I feel dizzy. I feel like I am going to throw up. The air leaves my lungs all at once, making my head spin as I try despera
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
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
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
ELARA'S POV:My lock screen is completely covered in red notification bubbles that keep refreshing faster than my tired eyes can read them.I open one.It is a link to a tabloid article. The headline makes my blood run cold."Heartless Heiress: Elara Ashcroft-Valancourt Abandons Her Elderly Grandmother."I sit up. My heart is pounding. I scroll through the article.There is Vivienne. My grandmother. The woman I have never even met. She is sitting in a tiny flat, her face streaked with tears, her hands clasped in her lap. She looks old and frail and broken. She is telling the world that I have abandoned her. That I do not care about her. That I left her to live in poverty while I live in luxury.She is lying. I have never met her. I have never spoken to her. I have no idea who she is or what she wants.I do not even know the sound of her voice, yet she is painted all over the Internet talking about me like I left her out in the cold on purpose.But the headlines do not care ab
Celestine Valancourt stood in the bathroom of her penthouse apartment, her bare feet cold against the imported marble floor, staring at a little plastic stick that had just completely and utterly rearranged her entire universe. There were two little pink lines staring back at her. Two little lines
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t
Celestine started cooking at three in the afternoon, flour on her hands, music playing low from her phone and the smell of tomatoes and garlic filling the whole penthouse.She made the sauce from scratch, the way her grandmother taught her when she was maybe ten years old. She rolled out the pasta







