로그인(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
(Author's POV) Mr. Zimmer came back ten minutes later. He was holding a phone. "One of the students in the class recorded the incident," he said. "Audio and video." He looked at the girl's name on his notepad, then back up. "She had her phone out during class, which is against school policy. Under the circumstances, I'm waiving that violation." He glanced at Luca. "I can have you step out if—" "No." Luca's voice was flat. "I'm staying." Mr. Zimmer set the phone on the desk and pressed play. Quentin's voice came through clearly. Every word. The specific language he'd used about Celeste, the way he'd delivered it for the room's benefit, the laughter that had followed. Nothing was missing. The recording was a full two minutes long and it left no room for interpretation. When it ended, the office was very quiet. Zachary sat straight in his chair. His jaw was tight. After a moment he said, "Kids say stupid things. That's what teenagers do. I don't think we need to—" "Does t
(Author's POV) "That's a reasonable request," he said. "It's not—" Zachary started. "It's a reasonable request," Mr. Zimmer repeated, with more firmness than he'd used in the last hour. "I'll pull the footage." Quentin's confidence flickered. Just for a second. Luca had gone very still. He was staring at his sister. His eyes were red, and his jaw was working like he was trying to hold something in. When Celeste turned and found him looking at her, he dropped his gaze immediately, shoulders curling inward. "Celeste," he said. His voice came out quiet and rough, barely above a murmur. He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. She crossed the room and stopped in front of him. She looked at the cut on his cheek, the redness around his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders that said he was furious at himself for being here, for letting her get called, for needing her to show up and fix something again. "Hey." Her voice was low, just for him. "Look at me." He did, rel
(Celeste Moretti’s POV) He had been so cold before the wedding, distant in a way that made everything between us feel carefully measured, like every interaction was being weighed against some invisible contract neither of us had spoken aloud. I had thought I understood what this arrangement would be, something clean and contained, two people sharing space without ever truly crossing into each other’s lives, yet now everything felt different in a way I could not fully name. He was making breakfast, moving around the kitchen with a quiet confidence that did not match the emotional distance I had once associated him with, and he had kissed me in the entryway like it was something natural, something that had always belonged there. The more deliberate he became, the more I started to suspect there was a plan behind his actions, something I had not yet been allowed to see. When the elevator reached the ground floor, the doors slid open and I stepped out, still aware of the strange warmt
(Celeste Moretti's POV) "Thank you." I hung up. I stood there for a moment in the rain and felt something loosen in my chest. The man who had once made me feel like I was always one wrong step from disaster was now a person who had to answer my calls and meet my deadlines. The car app showed th
(Vincenzo's POV) I accepted that with a nod and let the silence settle comfortably between us for a moment. She ate. I ate. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the apartment with a rare sense of peace. For a brief moment, it felt as though nothing urgent existed outside t
(Author's POV) "Ms. Moretti!" Lorenzo quickly stepped sideways, positioning himself between Celeste and the elevator. "What are you doing here?" Celeste looked at him calmly. "I'm here to discuss the divorce settlement with my ex husband," she said. "The CEO of this company. The property divi
(Celeste's POV) Eleanor had already ordered by the time I arrived. She waved me toward the seat across from her and gestured at the table. Roasted chicken breast with asparagus, a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, and a salad platter arranged between us. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "Lunch







