Chapter Four: The Firing

Celeste’s POV

I barely slept.

Not because I didn’t want to—but because my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

All night long.

One notification after another lit up the darkness. Eventually, I flipped it face-down and shoved it under my pillow, hoping that would mute the madness.

It didn’t.

Because the noise wasn’t just in the phone anymore—it was in me. Buzzing under my skin, thrumming in my chest.

By morning, I wasn’t tired—I was wired. My body ached with tension. My chest felt like something heavy had been sitting on it all night.

Still, I reached for the phone, half-hoping the world had gone back to normal.

It hadn’t.

The screen glared back at me: 214 new notifications.

My heart stuttered.

“Leo Kingsley’s Confession: Still in Love?”

“The Viral Girl Who Stole a Billionaire’s Heart.”

“Celeste Montgomery: From Server to Spotlight.”

I blinked. What?

I clicked the first headline. The article was short. Too short.

In a shocking turn of events, billionaire CEO Leo Kingsley responded to a viral video of Celeste Montgomery—his ex-girlfriend—with a simple but powerful post: “Celeste Montgomery is still the love of my life. That hasn’t changed.”

I dropped the phone like it had burned me.

That couldn’t be real.

Leo didn’t do things like that. He didn’t make public statements about personal matters, let alone this. He didn’t speak without calculating every word.

So why now?

And why… why did his words make my heart tremble?

I sat there for a moment, frozen. I had no answers—just a twisting feeling in my stomach that something big had shifted. That this—whatever this was—was just the beginning.

I should’ve stayed home.

But pretending nothing had changed felt safer than refreshing my feed on the couch. Besides, I needed the tips. Rent wasn’t going to magically disappear just because Leo Kingsley declared his undying love for me on the internet.

I took the long way to Lumière. Hoodie up. Cap low. Hoping I could sneak in unnoticed.

But I should’ve known better.

The moment I turned onto lumiere's street, I stopped cold.

A wall of flashing cameras and raised voices lined the sidewalk. Paparazzi. Reporters. Strangers with phones filming everything.

“Celeste Montgomery!”

“Did you break Leo Kingsley’s heart?”

“Are you back together? Was it all a stunt?”

My pulse kicked up. I kept my head down and pushed through, trying to ignore the sting of every shouted word.

The worst part wasn’t even the cameras.

It was knowing this all started with me.

One stupid lie. One impulsive moment. One sentence I couldn’t take back.

Now I was viral.

And completely exposed.

Inside the restaurant, the familiar hush of soft jazz and clinking glasses wrapped around me like muscle memory. But something still felt off.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Like I’d walked into a room where everyone had just stopped talking about me.

I slipped past the front, head down, and moved toward the back like I always did. Once I was in the staff area, I peeled off my hoodie and cap, stuffing them into my locker like I could shove the outside world away with them. I grabbed my apron, tied it tightly around my waist, and tried to focus on the rhythm I knew—clear plates, take orders, smile politely, repeat.

But it wasn’t the same.

My coworkers looked at me differently. Not cruelly—just curiously. Like I was a walking headline. A living click bait and at that moment I knew I was.

Mia passed me by in the hallway. Her eyes flicked to mine, then away. She didn’t say anything, but her silence was heavier than words.

I approached the order station where Noah, one of the bartenders, was setting up.

“Hey,” I said, trying for casual. “Busy day?”

He looked up, blinked like he’d been caught off guard, then gave a tight smile. “Uh… yeah. Kinda. You good?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just didn’t sleep much.”

He nodded slowly, then cleared his throat. “So… that thing online—”

I held up a hand. “Let’s not.”

“Got it,” he said quickly. “No worries.”

But I saw it in his eyes. He was dying to ask. They all were.

The first few tables went fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the occasional guest glancing at me like they were trying to place where they'd seen me before.

I even managed to breathe a little.

Until a couple near the back whispered behind their menus, eyes flicking toward me.

Then one of them pulled out her phone and started typing furiously. I didn’t need to guess what she was doing.

Still, I kept my head down. Did my job.

Until I bumped into a waiter coming around the corner, and the tray of water glasses tilted just enough to spill down the front of my apron.

“Damn, Celeste,” the guy muttered, not even angry—just annoyed. “Watch it.”

“Sorry,” I said quickly, grabbing napkins.

But the feeling was already back—that buzzing under my skin. That sense that I didn’t belong here anymore.

Not because of anything I did today—but because of something I never asked for.

Simone, the manager found me ten minutes later.

She didn’t shout. Didn’t glare.

She just gestured toward the back office with a sigh. “Come on.”

I followed her, shoulders tense.

She closed the door and leaned against her desk, folding her arms.

“You’re not in trouble,” she said gently. “But… I think it’s better if you take a step back. At least until this thing dies down.”

I swallowed. “Because of the post?”

“Because of the attention,” she said, her tone soft. “You’re a good worker, Celeste. Always have been. But right now, you’re… not just a server. You’re a story. And stories bring cameras. And chaos.”

I looked down at my hands. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But it doesn’t change what it’s become.”

The silence that followed felt final.

I nodded.

And just like that, I was no longer employed.

Outside, the world waited.

Same flashing lights. Same voices calling my name like it belonged to them now.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t smile. I just kept walking.

But then I saw it.

A black car parked directly outside, engine humming. The kind of car that screamed money and attention.

Before I could pass, the back door opened.

A man stepped out. Tall. Sharp suit. Calm, unreadable face.

“Celeste Montgomery?” he asked.

I nodded warily.

He opened the car door. “Mr. Kingsley would like to speak with you. Now.”

“I—I’m sorry, what?”

“He’s waiting.” A glance at his watch. “I wouldn’t keep him long.”

No warmth. No please. Just an expectation that I’d obey.

That was Leo. He didn’t ask—he summoned.

I looked back at the restaurant behind me. At the flashing lights. At everything I’d just lost.

Then at the car.

My gut told me to walk away.

But I couldn't. If Leo wanted something he gets it and at this moment he wanted to see me.

So I stepped in.

And the door shut behind me like a lock clicking into place.