登入(Author's POV) On the other side of the building, Bianca Conti read the same official statement that everyone else had seen. The moment she finished reading it, she walked straight to her father, Arturo Conti's office. Arturo looked up at her, but his face gave nothing away. His expression was calm, and his voice carried the firm tone he always used whenever a decision had already been made. "You're no longer working for the company," he said. "This doesn't concern you." Bianca held his gaze without looking away. "I'm not asking as one of your employees," she replied quietly. "I'm asking as your daughter." Arturo remained silent. His expression didn't change. After a few seconds, Bianca gave a small nod. "Fine," she said. "I'll find the answer somewhere else." She turned and walked out of the office. She didn't have to go far. Just outside, she found Vincenzo talking with Arturo in the corridor. Without slowing down, she walked straight toward them and stepped into the m
(Author's POV) When they got home, Celeste went upstairs to take a shower while Vincenzo headed straight for the kitchen. Cooking was not something he usually did. Mrs. Potts looked genuinely surprised when he walked in and calmly asked her to bring out everything he needed. She offered to prepare it herself, but he simply thanked her and asked her to leave the kitchen. He decided to make the soup himself. Cream of mushroom. From scratch. He had only watched it being made once before, but somehow he remembered every step. He worked patiently, taking his time instead of rushing through it, carefully stirring the pot until the rich smell filled the kitchen. By the time Celeste came downstairs wearing a soft robe with her damp hair hanging over her shoulders, everything was ready. She stopped the moment she reached the dining room. Her eyes landed on the bowl of hot soup waiting on the table before slowly moving to Vincenzo. She looked at him for a long moment without saying a
Writing 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,
(Author’s POV) The next morning, Celeste arrived at the courthouse steps at eight forty-five wearing a black blazer and straight-leg trousers. She spotted Luca across the street already heading toward the coffee shop. Catching his eye, she pointed firmly toward the entrance. He gave her a thumbs
(Author’s POV) Joyce smiled faintly. “I did, actually. Just yesterday. She works in the biotech research division at Vitale Group International. Honey, you have no idea what a coincidence this is. She used to work in the secretarial department at your company. Her name is Celeste Moretti.” The s
(Author’s POV) They talked, and to Joyce’s surprise, it was easy. Easier than she would have expected with a woman forty years younger than her. Celeste was direct without being harsh, curious without crossing boundaries. She asked questions that proved she was truly listening. Her interest was g
Author's POV “Someone had already done it,” he said. It wasn’t really an explanation. More like a conclusion he had already reached and only now bothered to speak aloud. He watched Tiziana’s expression carefully. “You turned her down.” The shift in her face was immediate. The composed mask cra







