LOGINWriting Chapter 160: The Wrong Person (Celeste's POV) The moment I stepped out of the house, an uneasy feeling settled deep inside me. I could not explain it because nothing looked wrong. The morning was bright and peaceful. Vincenzo's car was waiting by the curb, my bag rested on my shoulder, and my phone was safely tucked into my pocket. Everything seemed completely normal, yet I could not shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Even so, I got into the car, and we drove into traffic. "Can I ask you something?" I said after a few minutes. Vincenzo glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. "Go ahead." "Do you ever get that strange feeling that something is about to go wrong, even when you have no reason to think so? Like there's this heavy feeling sitting in your chest, warning you that something bad is coming." He was quiet for a moment as if he was actually thinking about it. Then he reached across the space between us and took my hand in his.
(Author's POV) Tiffany remained seated in her car long after ending the call with her son. Her thoughts kept circling the same painful questions, and every answer seemed worse than the one before. She was still trying to make sense of everything when her phone rang again. The name on the screen was Tiziana. She answered after a moment. "Tiffany," Tiziana said warmly, sounding relaxed and carefree as always. "Are you free this afternoon? I was thinking we could meet at the Four Seasons. The nail salon on the second floor. We haven't spent time together in weeks." Tiffany closed her eyes and leaned back against her seat. Right now, a manicure was the last thing on her mind. "Tiziana, I need to tell you something," she said quietly. "But you have to promise me this stays between us." There was a brief pause before Tiziana replied. "Of course. You know you can trust me. What happened?" In truth, Tiziana already suspected that something was wrong. Information always moved through
(Author's POV) About twenty minutes later, Vincenzo came out of the bathroom with his hair still damp from his shower. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt, and as soon as he stepped into the room, his eyes landed on the tray Celeste had prepared for him. On it were slices of toast, some cheese, and a mug that was still giving off steam. He stood there quietly for a moment, looking at everything she had arranged. The change in his expression was small and almost impossible to notice, but something inside him seemed to relax. It was as if a weight he had been carrying had finally become lighter. Without saying anything at first, he walked over to Celeste and wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace was gentle and careful. He did not pull her closer or try to hold her tightly. Instead, he simply rested his arms around her waist and stayed there quietly. Celeste immediately became still. Then Vincenzo lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss against the top of her hair. "
(Celeste Moretti's POV) Vincenzo texted me while I was washing my face. Something came up. I'll be back late. Don't wait up. I stared at the message for a second, then typed back: Okay. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the fact that I hadn't told Carmelita yet. We'd been best friends since university. She'd helped me move out of my mother's house. She'd sat with me in the hospital waiting room after my miscarriage, not saying anything, just being there. She'd driven me to the lawyer's office on the day I filed for divorce. She deserved to hear this from me, not from a social media post. I picked up my phone and called her. "Are you free tonight?" "For you? Always." I could hear her switching off her TV in the background. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong. I just... I have something to tell you. Can you meet me for dinner?" A pause. "That sounds ominous." "It's not ominous." "Celeste. When people say, 'I have something to tell you' in that voice,
(Celeste Moretti's POV)"Leave it," Vincenzo said. "I'll handle the dishes. Stay with your brother."I set the plates back down and looked at Luca. He was staring at the table, turning his fork over in his fingers. The bruising along his jaw had deepened to a dull purple.I didn't know how to start.Luca looked up first. His eyes were a little red at the edges. Not from crying, just from the kind of exhaustion that settles in after a long, difficult day. He was clearly trying not to show it."Celeste," he said. "Tell me the truth.""Tell you what?""Did he force you into this?""What? No." I almost laughed. "Luca, nobody forced me. Vincenzo is a good person. He treats me well. I'm the one who brought it up first."Luca stared at me."You brought it up?""I did."He was quiet for a moment.Then he frowned and muttered almost to himself, "But he's so old."Vincenzo walked out of the kitchen at that exact moment carrying the rinsed glasses. I watched his expression shift. Something tight
(Author's POV) Quentin's jaw was tight the whole way. The truth was, his injuries were worse than Luca's by a significant margin. Sam had bolted the moment things escalated, gone straight for a teacher, and the whole thing had ended before Quentin could do much damage. Luca had two bruises on his face. Quentin had three, plus the split lip. That was the part that sat in his chest like a stone. He had been so certain this was going to go the other way. He had set it up carefully, the things he had said in class, the angle he had taken, making sure enough people were listening. He had expected Luca to either take it or snap and get himself suspended. He had not expected the recording. He had not expected the teacher to walk back in holding a phone with that expression on his face. He had had Luca pegged as a problem from the first week the guy transferred in. New student, quiet, kept to himself, and somehow within a month he was the one everyone respected. It did not make sense to
(Celeste Morettiās POV) He looked up. "What is it?" "I think we shouldā" His phone rang. His assistant's name lit up the screen. He held up one finger and answered, already pressing his fingers to his temple as the voice on the other end escalated into obvious crisis. He snapped back at whoever
(Celeste Morettiās POV) Stefano didnāt come home last night. Neither did Bianca. After her husbandās death, Tiziana had claimed that staying at the Conti estate brought back too many painful memories, so sheād moved into a luxury penthouse downtown. Where Stefano and Bianca had spent the night,
(Celeste Morettiās POV) The video showed Cerviniaās snow-covered mountains in the background, picture-perfect and postcard-pretty. Bianca stood between Stefano and Tiziana, bundled in an expensive pink ski jacket I didnāt recognize. She was holding a half-eaten gelato cone, her face bright with h
(Celeste Morettiās POV) I woke to the steady, mechanical beeping of the hospital monitors and the sharp scent of disinfectant that made my stomach twist. My head throbbed violently, every pulse reminding me of the fall. For a fleeting moment, I tried to place myself, but my mind was a haze until







