Chapter 5

(Celeste Moretti’s POV)

The Uber pulled up to the glass tower of Aetheris Biotech at 8:47 in the morning.

I walked through the lobby with my carry-on in one hand and a cardboard box tucked under my arm. The receptionist looked up, startled.

Ethan’s office was on the fourth floor. I pushed open the door without knocking.

He was at his desk, sorting through a stack of folders. He looked up when he heard the door, and his expression shifted the moment he saw me.

I dropped the envelope on his desk. It landed with a flat, definitive slap.

"Ethan," I said. "That's my resignation."

He stared at the envelope, then at me. He picked it up slowly, as if it might bite him.

"Mrs. Conti," he said, setting it back down. "Does Stefano know about this?"

"No. And it doesn’t matter."

He straightened in his chair, reaching for the professional tone he kept on standby for difficult situations. "Per the executive contract terms, a resignation of this level requires CEO sign-off before it can be processed. Without Stefano’s approval, you can’t just—"

"Stop." I planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward. "Get one thing straight. This is at-will employment. I'm not serving a prison sentence. Since when do I need a hall pass to walk out the door?" I held up one finger. "And I’m a secretary, Ethan. A secretary. Are you seriously telling me the CEO needs to personally authorize a secretary’s resignation?"

He opened his mouth.

"I'm not asking for permission," I said. "I’m notifying you. I quit. Effective today."

He closed his mouth.

I watched the panic move across his face and felt nothing but a cold, clean clarity. Three years ago, Stefano had pulled me out of the R&D lab with a single memo. One page, signed by him, and suddenly I was his personal secretary instead of a scientist. I had told myself it was temporary. I had told myself a lot of things.

The month after I was transferred, Tiziana walked into my lab and took over my project. I hadn’t connected the dots then. I did now.

Ethan recovered enough to try a different angle. "Your year-end bonus hasn’t been disbursed yet. And the non-compete clause in your contract stipulates—"

"Speaking of contracts." I cut him off. "Tell your boss something for me. That gene-sequencing patent I licensed to Aether? The personal license I granted, under my own name?" I watched his face carefully. "My attorney will be sending a cease-and-desist letter later today. Aether has been in violation of the ethical use clause since Tiziana took over the project. The license is revoked."

The color drained from Ethan’s face. "Celeste. The clinical trial is at a critical stage right now. If you pull the core patent authorization, the losses will be—"

"In the hundreds of millions. Yes, I know." I picked up my cardboard box. "This isn’t a negotiation, Ethan. It’s a notification. If Aether uses my intellectual property again without authorization, I’ll see you in court."

I walked out without looking back.

The morning air outside hit me like cold water. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, box in my arms, and breathed. Then I flagged a cab.

The coffee shop Sebastian had chosen was tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner on a quiet side street. Dark wood paneling, low lighting, and booths with high backs that swallowed sound. Private enough.

Sebastian was already there when I arrived. He pushed his rimless glasses up his nose and reached for the tablet the moment I sat down.

"I watched the video three times," he said, pulling up the file. "It’s solid. Behavioral and emotional infidelity, clearly documented. The physical component is implied but visible enough to be compelling."

"But?" I wrapped both hands around the mug of black coffee the server had just set down.

"But this is a no-fault divorce state. A kiss on video doesn’t automatically shift the asset division in your favor, not unless we can prove he used marital funds to benefit her." He looked up. "Did he?"

"Almost certainly. But I don’t care about the asset split."

Sebastian blinked. "Celeste—"

"I want the divorce finalized fast. That’s all. I want him to sign the papers and I want to be done." I stirred the coffee slowly. "What I do care about is the patent. Walk me through the process."

He leaned back. "The cease-and-desist goes out today. If they don’t comply within the response window, we file for an injunction. Given that the license was granted under your personal name and not as part of any employment agreement, the argument is clean. The ethical use clause violation gives us the hook." He tapped his pen on the table. "Any revenue Aether generated using your patent during the breach period is technically recoverable."

"Then recover it."

"You're sure you don’t want to go after the marital assets too? Because I can make a very strong case—"

"I don’t want his money, Sebastian." I set down the spoon. "I want what’s mine. The patent royalties. That’s it."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I’ll have the C&D out by noon and the divorce petition filed by end of day. With the video evidence, I can push for an expedited timeline."

"Good."

I gathered my coat and reached for the cardboard box under the table. My bag had slipped off the seat, and I crouched to pull it back up, then slung it over my shoulder along with the box and pushed toward the door.

I was digging for my car keys with one hand when I walked straight into something solid.

Not something. Someone.

The impact knocked the box sideways. A large hand caught my elbow, steadying me before I could stumble, and another hand settled at my waist. The grip was firm and unhurried, like catching falling things was something this person did without thinking.

I looked up.

The man was tall. Broad shoulders. A jaw with a day's worth of dark stubble that should have looked careless but didn’t. His eyes were grey, the kind of grey that looked like deep water, and they were watching me with an expression I couldn’t immediately read. His coat smelled like cedarwood and expensive tobacco.

I registered, in a detached and purely aesthetic way, that he was extraordinarily handsome.

What a shame, I thought. Wrong time, wrong life.

I took a step back, straightened my coat, and shifted the box back under my arm.

"Thank you," I said, giving him a brief nod.

He smiled, just slightly. He inclined his head.

I stepped around him and walked to my car, my mind already back on injunctions and filing deadlines.

(Author's POV)

Sebastian watched the whole thing from the window booth and couldn’t help himself.

"Well," he said, as Vincenzo Conti crossed the coffee shop and dropped into the seat across from him. "I didn’t know the famously cold-blooded Vincenzo Conti made a habit of catching damsels in distress."

Vincenzo said nothing. His gaze had drifted to the table, and it settled on the coffee cup Celeste had left behind. The mug still had a faint imprint of lipstick on the rim. He reached out and ran one finger along the edge of it, slow and thoughtful, the way a person examines something they intend to remember.

Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Stefano," he said, pulling out his folder, "is being both stupid and greedy about the settlement. He actually tried to absorb her patent into the company’s IP portfolio. His own wife’s personal patent."

Vincenzo’s expression didn’t change, but his hand went still. He set the mug down and looked at Sebastian directly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and precise.

"Can you win?"

"You know my record."

Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Then win."

Sebastian nodded, making a note. "I’ll have everything moving by end of business today. She’s a straightforward client, actually. Doesn’t want the marital assets. Just the patent royalties and a fast exit."

"Good." Vincenzo leaned back. "And Sebastian."

"Yeah?"

"Watch your language when you refer to her." A pause. "She won’t be Stefano’s wife much longer."

Sebastian looked up from his notepad.

"'She’ll be his ex-wife.'"

"Correct."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and wrote it down anyway.

(Celeste Moretti’s POV)

The hotel room was quiet. I set the cardboard box on the floor and opened my laptop on the small desk by the window.

I had three emails to draft and a list of files to organize. I opened a new document and had just started typing when a notification blinked in the corner of the screen.

Bianca’s iCloud account. Still synced to this machine.

A new photo album had updated. I clicked it without thinking.

The first image loaded.

Bianca in her school uniform, arms wrapped around Tiziana’s neck, grinning at the camera. Tiziana had her hand on the back of the girl’s head, smoothing her hair with a practiced, maternal gesture.

I clicked to the video.

"Mom leaving was so childish," Bianca said, her voice bright and unbothered. "Daddy and I aren’t going to go after her."

Tiziana made a soft sound. "You should still call me Aunt Tiziana, sweetheart."

But she was smiling. Fully, openly smiling.

The next video was shorter. Bianca dragging Tiziana up the stairs, chattering about something. Then the camera panned to the bookshelf in the study.

A framed photograph. Stefano, Tiziana, and Bianca, all three of them laughing at something off-camera.

It was sitting in the exact spot where a photo of Bianca and me had been.

"This is the perfect family portrait," Bianca announced. "I want us to stay like this forever."