ログインCeleste’s POVRyan arrived like a rupture in reality.I heard him before I saw him, the screech of tires, the slam of a car door, his voice cutting through the night, raw and furious, shouting my name like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.“Celeste!”I was still half-collapsed against the exterior wall of Rosemary Atelier, knees scraped, lungs burning, phone clutched in my shaking hand. I barely had time to turn before he was there, hands on my shoulders, scanning my face, my arms, my legs, as if cataloguing damage faster than his fear could catch up.“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice tight, eyes wild.“I—” My throat closed. “Andre’s inside.”That was all it took.Ryan’s entire body changed. Something lethal and precise slid into place behind his eyes. He moved in front of me without thinking, one arm pushing me back as he reached for the door.“Ryan, wait—”Too late.The door burst open.Andre came at us like he’d been waiting for this moment, like the night had shar
Celeste’s POVThe atelier had never felt this hollow before.Rosemary after hours usually carries a soft echo, machines cooling down, the faint hum of the security system, the scent of metal and polish settling into the walls.That night, it felt scraped clean of warmth, like something had stripped it down to bone.I was alone. Or so I thought.I was locking my office when I heard it, the faint click of the front door disengaging.Not the alarm. Not the controlled entry tone.A manual override.Every muscle in my body tightened.I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I listened.Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Like whoever had entered wasn’t worried about being caught.Andre.The realization hit with cold clarity, not panic. Panic comes later, after the body decides survival matters more than pride.I slid my phone into my pocket without looking at it. No light. No sound. Calling anyone now would give me away. The security desk was empty.Rachel and Jenny had left hours ago.The floor was his.I
Celeste’s POVI didn’t sleep.Not really. I lay on the couch in my office at Rosemary Atelier with my phone clutched in my hand, staring at the ceiling, counting breaths that never settled into anything close to rest.The city outside was still dark when I finally gave up and stood, pulling on a blazer that felt more like armor than clothing.By six in the morning, Rosemary was already awake.Rachel was at her bench, polishing with quiet determination. Jenny hovered near the coffee machine, jumping every time her phone buzzed. No one asked me if I’d slept. No one asked me if I was okay. They didn’t need to. My face must have answered all of that for me.By eight, Officer Raymond had checked in twice. No leads yet. No ransom demand. No sightings that could be confirmed.By nine, I made the call I had been avoiding.Leander Voss answered on the second ring. Laurent joined moments later, his voice calm in a way that immediately told me he already knew why I was calling.“Celeste,” Leander
Damien’s POVI woke up to the sound of breaking glass.Not the sharp, cinematic crash people imagine, but a dull, ugly shatter, like something heavy giving way under pressure.For half a second, my brain refused to translate it. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, caught between sleep and instinct.Then the alarm started screaming.I was on my feet instantly, heart slamming against my ribs. The house lights flicked on as I ran barefoot down the hallway, grabbing the first solid thing my hand found, a decorative metal paperweight from my desk.Useless as a weapon, but it gave my hands something to do besides shake.“Who’s there?” I shouted, my voice echoing too loudly in the empty house.No answer.The living room was chaos. One of the tall windows near the garden had been smashed inward. Shards of glass glittered on the marble floor like ice. Cold night air poured in, carrying the smell of damp soil and something metallic.I scanned the room, every muscle tight, waiting for movement.
Celeste’s POVThe studio lights at Rosemary Atelier always felt harsher after midnight. They cast everything in clean, unforgiving lines, every flaw visible, every doubt amplified.I had stayed late because staying busy felt safer than going home early and letting my thoughts catch up with me. Vivian had Molly tonight. Grace had left early, claiming a headache and a need for quiet. I remembered teasing her about finally listening to her body.I wished I hadn’t.When I finally locked up and drove home, the city felt too still. Traffic lights blinked dutifully. Security guards nodded. Everything looked normal enough to lull someone else into calm. But I had learned the hard way that silence often came before impact.Grace’s shoes were by the door when I stepped into the apartment.That was the first thing that felt wrong.She never left them there. Grace was meticulous in small, quiet ways, shoes lined, keys always in the same ceramic bowl, bags hung, never dropped. I set my own bag down
Celeste’s POVImperial Aurium Group still smelled the same, polished wood, cold metal, ambition pressed into the walls. I hadn’t missed it.Damien’s office was exactly as I remembered, all sharp lines and controlled lighting, designed to make people feel smaller when they sat across from him.I refused to.Damien looked tired when I walked in. Not the performative exhaustion he used to wear like a badge during deals, but the real kind, the kind that hollowed out the space beneath his eyes. Atlas’s file lay open on his desk, untouched. That alone told me everything.“Celeste,” he said, standing quickly. “Thank you for coming.”“I didn’t come for pleasantries,” I replied, setting my bag down and taking the chair opposite him. “I came so you’d stop thinking you’re cornered.”He exhaled slowly and sat. “You spoke to the Voss brothers.”“I did.” My voice stayed even, though the anger was still there, coiled and waiting. “And no—you don’t have to agree to anything they’re asking.”Damien rub







