LOGINShe corrected herself, catching the professional name I now used. "Please fill these out in the lounge area. W-4, NDA, and insurance enrollment." I took the clipboard and settled onto a sleek leather sofa. As I uncapped my pen, voices drifted from the nearby cubicles. "Did you see her?" a woman whispered, not nearly as quietly as she thought. "Is that the new Executive Assistant for the VP?" "Must be," another replied with a giggle. "Look at that outfit. She looks more like a fashion blogger than an employee. There is no way she is here for actual work." "Probably some executiveās eye candy. I give her a week before she breaks a nail." I did not shrink. I paused, my pen hovering over the paper, then slowly turned my head. My eyes locked onto the brunette leading the gossip. I said nothing. I simply arched a brow and let a faint, cold smirk curl on my lips, a silent warning that spoke louder than words. She blinked, her mouth snapping shut instantly. Silence spread across the c
(Celesteās POV)Stefano shot up from the chair, his face a mask of dark fury. He paced the length of the VIP hospital suite, his expensive leather shoes clicking sharply against the linoleum."If you are actually pregnant, Celeste, why the hell would you joke about it?" he snapped, spinning around to point a finger at me. "Is this jealousy? Are you that angry? You do not use an unborn Conti heir as a bargaining chip. That is low, even for you."I sat perfectly still, watching him unravel."You will take this check," he commanded, his voice dropping into a growl. "Ten million dollars. And I am adding a clause. I will use my personal network in the medical field. I guarantee a stem cell donor for Luca within two months."I narrowed my eyes, studying the man I had once loved. It was almost laughable. He was hopelessly devoted to Tiziana, yet completely obsessed with the idea of the child I supposedly carried. The thought twisted in my stomach. Would he take the baby after birth and ha
Celeste's POV "Iāve called a car," I lied to a concerned doorman to avoid questions. But when I checked my app, the screen mocked me. No cars available. We were halfway up a hill in an exclusive residential zone. Rideshares were non-existent. A gust of wind swept through the canyon, cutting right through the thin fabric of my evening gown. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself, regretting leaving my coat in Carmelitaās car. Just as I was debating the insanity of walking down the hill in heels, a sleek black Bentley Mulsanne glided out of the shadows. It pulled up right beside me. The rear window rolled down silently. Vincenzo Conti sat there, his profile sharp against the dark leather interior. He turned to look at me, his expression unreadable. "Get in," he said. "Iāll see you home." My instinct was to refuse. He was dangerous, and our earlier encounter on the terrace was still too fresh in my mind. "Iām fine, thank you," I began. "Consider it a thank you for your coop
(Authorās POV) Vincenzoās words landed like a physical blow, stripping the arrogance straight off Tiziana and Stefanoās faces. The shame that followed was thick, suffocating, almost impossible to ignore. Carmelita didnāt hesitate for even a second. A sharp, mocking laugh slipped past her lips, cutting cleanly through the silence that had settled over the group. āWow,ā she drawled, her voice carrying easily to everyone nearby. āStraight to āMamaā? And here I was being accused of spreading rumors. That has to be the joke of the year.ā Whispers erupted around them almost instantly. The surrounding guests leaned in subtly, their gazes sharpening as they dissected Stefano with open curiosity and thinly veiled disdain. Stefano stood frozen in place, his face burning as humiliation crept under his skin. For a fleeting moment, he wished the polished marble floor beneath his feet would crack open and swallow him whole. Serenaās expression twisted as though she had just tasted something s
(Celesteās POV) I didnāt want to play along, but I had absolutely no choice. A few yards away, around the blind corner of the terrace, the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing and heavy, desperate breathing echoed through the night air. It was excruciating. My ears burned. The intrusion was so clear, so intimate, that a wave of sharp discomfort mixed with irritation washed over me. I was trapped in the dark with a stranger, listening to his brother cheat on his wife. I tried to lift my head, pressing my hands lightly against the solid wall of muscle in front of me. We were too close, far beyond the boundaries of social comfort. Our bodies were pressed together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Just as I shifted, a large, warm hand clamped onto the back of my head. Vincenzo was dominant. He forced my face back against his broad, hard chest. The scent of cold cedarwood filled my nose, mixed with the faint trace of tobacco lingering in the night air. I usually detested men who smoked.
(Authorās POV) The black sedan sliced through the busy Milan night. Inside, the air pressure dropped to freezing point. Stefano sat like a stone statue, his face frosty. He had not said a word since they left the boutique. Tiziana sat beside him, her nerves frayed. She watched his profile, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The chemistry that usually filled the car was dead, replaced by a suffocating silence. She glanced down at Bianca, who had exhausted herself crying and was now asleep in her lap. Tiziana stroked the childās hair absently, her mind racing. The divorce papers. They were still sitting in the nightstand drawer in the master bedroom. Should she remind him to sign them tonight? She bit her lip. No. It was too risky. If Stefano realized Celeste was serious about leaving, his pride might make him refuse just to spite her. Or worse, he might try to keep her. She did not dare make a move. Stefano was not thinking about divorce papers. He closed
(Celeste Morettiās POV) His voice echoed up the stairwell. I felt nothing. I looked down at him. He was kneeling on the landing below, Tiziana pressed tightly against his chest, his hands trembling as they cupped her face like she might slip away if he let go. My mother shoved past me and grab
(Author's POV) No one in the Contifamily iMessage group noticed when Celeste Moretti quietly left. Not that anyone would have. Adelina used the group maybe twice a week to share videos of Bianca Conti at her riding lessons or ballet recitals, and the rest of the family treated it like background
(Celeste Morettiās POV) Vincenzoās low, magnetic voice echoed through the boutique, dripping with undisguised mockery. āLittle girl, where are your manners?ā The air in the shop seemed to freeze. I stared at him in shock, my hand instinctively clutching the neckline of the dress. I never expect
(Authorās POV) Stefano Conti was jerked awake by the harsh ringing of his phone. The digital clock read 5:00 AM, and his heart pounded heavily in his chest. Only a disaster of serious magnitude could justify a call at such an hour. He grabbed his phone, his expression darkening when he saw it wa







