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Chapter 59 - I'm Coming Home
Last Updated:
2025-05-31 15:37:09
Latest chapter
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 103 - The Premiere
The black car slid to a stop just past the barricades, its windows dark as ink against the harsh theater lights and the thunder of the press line. It was just past seven on a warm Thursday night, the night Hollywood liked to call itself timeless, when all the ghosts of the industry dressed up and danced under a thousand camera flashes.Inside the car, Celeste sat very still. The silk of her gown pooled around her like spilled champagne, soft, shimmering, impossible to pin down. Her fingers traced the line of her clutch resting in her lap, the tips brushing over the tiny hidden stitches where Marisol had sewn the silk by hand.Across from her, Damien watched. Not with the possessive calculation he used to wear to these things, back when the carpet was a chessboard and every camera flash a dagger to be turned or deflected. Tonight, his eyes were softer. Still sharp, yes, they always would be, but edged with something gentler. Fierce, but quiet.“You ready?” he asked, voice low, intimate
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 102 - A Final Goodbye
The Tuesday evening, they arrived back at their penthouse after their honeymoon, glad to be back home.Wednesday morning, the doorbell rang around 9 a.m., delivery service handed her a plain envelope with her name typed in block capitals across the front. No sender’s name. No return address. Just a stamp from the California State Correctional Facility, a smudge of ink where someone’s thumb had pressed too hard.Celeste found it on the marble counter in Damien’s study, half-buried under printouts and budget drafts for the next phase of their studio. For a moment, she just stared at it, the seal, the sterile official ink. A relic of a ghost that refused to stay buried.Damien’s watch sat on top of it, heavy, deliberate, a silent question. "Do you really want to open this?"She read it standing up. Just four lines, cramped and sharp in Veronica’s old handwriting. The same hand that had once signed the checks for gossip columnists and backdoor rumors, the same loops and hooks that had wr
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 101 - The Fire Never Died
They didn’t tell anyone where they were going. No press trailing them through airport gates. No well-meaning friends or intrusive family asking for photos of white sand beaches and sunset dinners. It was just a private jet, a dawn landing on a tiny private strip off the Amalfi coast, and a drive up a winding cliff road so narrow Celeste’s heart raced every time the tires kissed the edge.When they reached the villa, Damien didn’t let the driver linger. He carried their single overnight bag himself, dropped it just inside the door, and locked it behind them.He didn’t say a word.Celeste could feel it, the silence vibrating off his skin. The way his eyes pinned her like a promise. No more hiding. No more running. No more glass between them and the world. Just them, raw and real. Husband and wife.He backed her against the nearest wall before she could breathe. His mouth crashed onto hers so hard her teeth knocked together, and she gasped into him, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, n
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 100 - Secretly Married
The last shot of Low Tide wrapped just before dawn. The three of them, Celeste, Damien, and Quinn, stood barefoot on the damp sand as the sun broke the horizon. Celeste’s voice was hoarse, her eyes raw from too many truths spoken into Quinn’s battered camera.When Quinn finally lowered the lens, no one spoke. There was only the hush of the waves and the quiet tremor in Celeste’s chest, like a second heartbeat that belonged to Damien.They didn’t rush to pack. They didn’t rush to leave. Quinn disappeared up the bluff to call in the rough cut, her footsteps fading behind the dunes. Celeste and Damien stayed behind. Just them and the morning tide.“You did it,” Damien murmured, brushing a fleck of sand from her cheekbone. His voice held something like awe, and something older, something that tasted like years reclaimed.“No,” she said, leaning into his palm. “We did it.”He laughed softly, the sound dissolving into the wind. “You’re right. We did.”She rested her forehead against his. Cl
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 99 - Quiet Rebellion
They didn’t book some cold hotel conference room for their first official meeting. Instead, they took over Marisol’s converted loft downtown, high ceilings, old brick walls, windows that let the late spring sun pour through like liquid gold.Celeste stood at the edge of the makeshift “war room”: a giant reclaimed wood table covered in legal pads, laptops, empty coffee cups. Damien, for once, wasn’t wearing his armor of suit and tie. He’d rolled his sleeves up, top buttons undone, leaning back in a battered chair that looked out of place under the skylight.Aisha had her hair piled high and was tapping at her phone between scribbles on a whiteboard. Quinn sat cross-legged on the floor with a legal pad, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. Marisol paced, barefoot, balancing a cup of espresso on her palm. It felt raw and real. Celeste loved it immediately.She leaned in, elbows braced on the table. “Okay, we know the pitch. We know the stakes. Where do we bleed first?”Quinn look
Breaking The Spotlight Chapter 98 - The Blueprint
The city was soft in the hour before dawn. From the penthouse balcony, Celeste could see the sprawl of Los Angeles stretching endlessly west, lights flickering out as the night receded. It felt quieter than usual, like a hush that follows a storm that never quite made landfall.She sipped her tea, the mug warm in her palms, and let the memory of the televised interview replay in pieces. Arthur’s restless eyes. Priya’s calm voice. Her own words, spoken without script or spin.She’d slept after, tangled up in Damien’s arms, the two of them too exhausted to do anything but breathe each other in. She’d expected to wake to chaos, headlines twisted beyond recognition, opportunists circling again. But instead, her phone held something else: messages that felt different. Real. Not just fans or gossip rags, but from women in the industry. Quiet thanks. Small confessions. Words she recognized because once, they would have been hers.She was still sitting there, barefoot in Damien’s old shirt,
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