Chapter 46 - Fractures And Foundations

The penthouse felt colder that evening, not from the temperature, but from the emotional divide that had crept in between Celeste and Damien. The air buzzed with unsaid words, old wounds reopened, and fears neither had voiced yet. The empire they were building had withstood attacks from the outside, but the cracks inside were more dangerous, subtle, splintering, and deeply personal.

Damien stood by the expansive windows, staring out at the city as if it could offer him answers. His reflection stared back, worn and conflicted. Behind him, Celeste sat rigid on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped around herself, still wearing the same hoodie she had pulled on after waking from her nap. The warmth of earlier, of soft touches and whispered dreams, had faded.

“I don’t understand,” she said quietly. “You fought so hard for me out there. But in here, you’ve kept me at arm’s length.”

Damien turned slowly. His jaw clenched, and then loosened, as if he was preparing to step into the most vulnerable version of himself.

“I was scared,” he said, voice low. “Not of loving you. But of what that love could cost you. I thought pushing you away, shielding you, was the way to protect you.”

Celeste’s eyes widened, hurt flashing through them. “So you thought I was too fragile to fight beside you? That I needed to be, what? Managed?”

He crossed to her in three long strides. “No. I thought if I kept you out of it, the crossfire wouldn’t touch you. I’ve seen how this industry destroys people. I couldn’t stomach the thought of it destroying you because of me.”

“You idiot,” she whispered, tears brimming. “Do you really think I’d rather be protected than be trusted?”

“I know now how wrong I was.” Damien knelt in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. “I shut you out when I should’ve stood with you. I treated you like a liability when you were the one holding everything together. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to speak, to tell him she still believed in them, but then, suddenly, the room spun.

Celeste’s vision blurred, a wave of dizziness overtaking her. Her breath hitched. “Damien...” she rasped, her voice faint. “Something’s wrong.”

His head snapped up, instantly alert. “Celeste?”

She swayed and collapsed against him.

Panic surged through Damien’s body. “Celeste!” He scooped her into his arms, yelling for his driver as he sprinted toward the elevator.

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the monitor and the whisper of oxygen flowing through the nasal cannula attached to Celeste. Damien hadn’t left her side once.

Her sudden collapse had been caused by severe dehydration and exhaustion, compounded by an underlying medical condition she hadn’t known she had, a mild but dangerous form of arrhythmia triggered by extreme stress.

Damien sat beside her bed, his head bowed, one of her hands held gently in both of his.

“I thought I was doing everything to protect you,” he whispered to her, even though she was still asleep. “But I was killing us. Killing you.”

His voice cracked. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to, and I won’t pretend anymore that I can run this empire alone. I need you in every part of it, Celeste. You’re the only thing that makes it mean anything.”

A nurse stepped in quietly, checking the monitors. “She’s stable,” she said softly. “She’ll wake soon.”

Damien nodded, brushing a strand of hair from Celeste’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Celeste woke a few hours later to the dim glow of lamplight and Damien’s hand clasping hers. She blinked slowly, her body aching but her heart pounding with something softer, warmth. She looked at him, eyes glassy but clear.

“Hey,” she murmured.

His head jerked up. Relief flooded his features. “Hey. You scared the hell out of me.”

“You deserved it.”

A choked laugh escaped him. “I did.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she added, “I didn’t know something was wrong with my heart.”

He squeezed her hand. “Neither did I. But we know now. And we’ll take care of it. Together.”

“I want to be part of everything,” she said quietly. “Not just the parts you think I can handle.”

“You will be,” he said firmly. “No more walls. No more secrets. When we get home, we’ll sit down and map out every board decision, every pitch, every project. You’ll have a seat at the table, not just beside me, but as an equal.”

Celeste blinked, tears sliding down her cheeks. “You mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more."

When they returned to the penthouse two days later, the space felt different. Not colder, there was a warmer ambience, it felt alive again.

Damien had cleared his entire week, postponed meetings, and turned the living room into a home office where they could work side-by-side.

That first evening back, Damien poured wine and slid a thick folder across the table to her.

“Board reports. Voting breakdowns. And this—” he pulled out a single page—“the media rollout for our next move. It’s not just my fight anymore. It’s ours.”

Celeste took the papers, eyes scanning them slowly. “Thank you, for this. For everything.”

Damien reached over and covered her hand with his. “You are the beating heart of everything I do, Celeste. I didn’t realize how close I came to losing you, sweetheart, but I won’t forget it now.”

She looked up at him, her voice shaking. “I want us to build something unstoppable, but I also want us to be okay. Not perfect. Just, together.”

“We will be,” he promised. “We fight for the empire. And we fight for each other.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. And for the first time, it wasn’t about victory. It was about healing, trust, and the unshakable bond they had reforged through fire.

Together, they weren’t just surviving the spotlight.

They were owning it.