Chapter two- Enemies in disguise

Celeste POV

It’s been a week since I became the wife of Alexander Bologna.

Seven days of carefully orchestrated steps. Seven days of calculated silence. Seven days of planting the seeds of my revenge.

And yet, I hadn’t anticipated the gnawing guilt creeping in whenever I looked at Ethan. He didn’t deserve any of this.

He was too young and adjusting far too quickly to this world—a world of polished marble floors, endless hallways, and silent but ever-watchful staff. Despite Angela’s obvious hatred, my son remains blissfully unaware of the tension brewing around him.

But Alexander—he isn’t so blind.

He watches me with quiet suspicion, studying my every move as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t know existed. And I, in turn, pretend not to notice while playing my game too.

But tonight, I let my mask slip for just a moment.

It was late when I left Ethan’s room after watching him fall asleep and tucking him in. I walked down the quiet hall, my silk nightgown clings to my body as I made my way to my room, barefoot, my mind clouded with thoughts of my next move.

 I was so lost in them that I didn’t see him until crashed straight into his hard chest.

A sharp gasp escapes me as firm hands grip my waist, steadying me before I can stumble back. Heat radiates from his body, searing even through the thin fabric of my gown.

I look up, my breath hitching at the intensity in his storm-gray eyes.

Alexander.

Our eyes met for some time. He doesn’t let go immediately. His grip lingers, firm, possessives as if anchoring himself to something he doesn’t quite understand.

“Can’t you see?” He said in a low but harsh tone as he finally released his grip on me.

I let out a small breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “You should watch where you’re going.”

His lips curve slightly, a shadow of amusement or something more flickering in his gaze. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something colder.

“You’ve settled in quite comfortably,” he observes, his eyes flicking down the length of my body before snapping back up. His jaw tightens. “Enjoying your new life, Mrs. Bologna?”

I forced a smirk, leaning slightly into him, testing his resolve. “Why? Does it bother you?”

He took a closer step to me, “You’re only here because of Ethan,” he reminds me, his voice like steel. “If not for him, I would’ve thrown you out the moment you walked through those doors. You don’t deserve to be here.”

The words sting more than they should.

I tilted my head, letting my lips part in mock surprise. “Oh, Alexander,” I whisper, stepping closer, watching as his muscles tense. “Are you trying to convince me… or yourself?”

His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening, but before he can respond, the sound of heels clicking against marble shatters our moment.

Angela.

I turn, meeting the ice-cold glare of the Bologna matriarch. Her crimson lips curl in distaste as she takes in our close proximity.

“How convenient,” she muses, her voice dripping with mockery. “Caught in the arms of my son so soon?” She clicks her tongue, her gaze narrowing. “Or should I say—our uninvited guest?”

I smile sweetly, unfazed trying to provoke her a little, “Jealous, Angela?”

Her face hardens, but she quickly schools her expression. “I should warn you, Clara,” she says, voice low and lethal, “your little charade won’t last forever. I will find out who you really are, and when I do…” She steps closer, her smile razor-sharp. “You won’t like the outcome.”

A chill runs down my spine.

She knows. Or at least, she suspects.

I let out a soft chuckle, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re welcome to try but for now I need to sleep” I said, brushing past her as I walked away.

But as I retreated to my room, my fingers clenched into fists.

Angela Bologna is far more dangerous than I imagined.

I have to move faster.

Because if she uncovers the truth before I’m ready, everything will fall apart.

And I cannot afford to lose.

Not when I’ve come this far.

Not when my plan is only just beginning.

And by the time I’m done, the Bologna name will be nothing but ruins beneath my feet that would be trampled on.

I barely have time to lock my bedroom door before my phone vibrates.

Unknown Number.

My fingers hesitate before opening the message.

“She suspects you. Move carefully.”

I froze. My pulse spikes.

I typed back quickly.

“Who are you?”

Three dots appear. Then—

“A friend. Someone who wants the same thing you do.”

My throat tightens. This isn’t the first message I’ve received, but it’s the most direct one yet.

Whoever they are, they know why I’m here.

I exhale sharply, shoving the phone aside. I can’t afford to panic. I need to stay focused.

My eyes drifted to the single framed photo on my bedside table.

A photo of Clara.

Her dark eyes staring back at me, filled with an innocence that no longer exists. The edges of the picture are worn, my fingers having traced them countless times over the years.

I feel the familiar sting behind my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not now.

Clara is the reason I’m here.

Clara is the reason I can’t fail.

The Bolognas took her from me.

They stole everything from her—her freedom, her happiness, her life.

And now, I will take everything from them one by one.

The next morning, I stepped into the grand hall, dressed in an elegant yet simple dress that hugs my figure. I don’t miss the way the staff hush as I pass, their whispers like knives at my back.

And then I hear the sharp voice of a woman I haven’t met yet—but whose name I know all too well.

Bianca.

Alexander’s ex.

I turn in time to see her strutting toward me, long legs and venomous eyes. She’s beautiful, in that effortless, polished way that only the rich can manage.

She stops inches from me, her gaze flicking over me like I’m something she’s debating scraping off her shoe.

“You must be Clara.”

I smiled politely. “And you must be Bianca. My husband ex.”

Her red lips twist into something resembling a smirk. “I see Alexander has… lowered his standards.”

I chuckle, unfazed. “Funny. I was thinking the same about his past choices.”

Her eyes darken with rage.

I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “Did you come all this way to trade insults, or did you have something important to say?”

Bianca steps closer, her voice dropping into a near-whisper. “I don’t know what you’re after, but let me give you a little advice, sweetheart.” She leans in, her breath warm against my ear.

“Alexander is mine. He always has been. And no cheap little replacement will ever change that.”

A slow smile curls my lips.

“Sweetheart,” I whisper back, my voice deadly soft, “if Alexander was really yours, you wouldn’t have to be here, warning me.”

I continued, “You would have been Mrs Bologna all this while and not me.”

Her jaw clenches.

I step back, meeting her glare with a smirk before turning and walking away.

Bianca may be a problem. But she’s not the problem.

No—the real threat is still waiting in the shadows.

And as I feel my phone buzz again in my palm, I know this game is only just beginning.

One new message:

“She’s not the one you should fear. Look deeper, Celeste. The real enemy is closer than you think.”

I inhale sharply, my heart pounding heavily.

Whoever sent me this message knew my real identity but one question gnawed at me.

The real enemy.

Who?

And then a horrifying thought slams into me.

What if it’s not just the Bolognas I have to destroy?

What if the betrayal runs deeper than I ever imagined?