LOGINCeleste’s POVNicholas looked older than the last time I’d seen him.Not dramatically, no sudden frailty or collapse, but age had finally decided to mark him in quieter ways.The lines around his mouth were deeper, his shoulders held a fraction lower, like gravity had finally claimed a small victory.He stood in the doorway with his hands clasped in front of him, posture careful, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to take up space here.My mother didn’t move aside immediately.“Why are you here?” Claire asked, her voice calm but cool, the way it used to be when she’d already decided she didn’t owe someone softness.Nicholas swallowed. “I wanted to tell you something. Both of you.”I stayed where I was, arms folded loosely across my chest, grounding myself in the familiarity of the kitchen behind me. The safety of it. I refused to let him pull me backward in time.Mum hesitated, then stepped aside just enough. “Five minutes.”Nicholas nodded like he’d expected nothing more.He
Celeste’s POVThe house smelled like chamomile and something faintly sweet. My mother’s house had always smelled like safety.Even now, after everything I’d endured, the moment I stepped inside, I felt my shoulders drop an inch, as if my body remembered before my mind did.“Celeste,” Mum said softly, pulling me into her arms before I could even take my shoes off.I hugged her back, tightly. Not politely. Not carefully.I pressed my face into her shoulder the way I used to when I was a child, when the world felt too loud, and my father’s absence felt too big to name. Claire Grant, no, Claire Sinclair now, in all the ways that mattered, smelled like home and lavender oil and warmth.“You look thinner,” she murmured, hands smoothing over my back.“I’ve been busy,” I said, which was the most incomplete sentence I’d ever spoken.She pulled back and studied my face the way only a mother can, eyes sharp but gentle. “Come in. Sit. Tea?”“Yes,” I said immediately. “Please.”We moved into the ki
Celeste’s POVI stayed seated on the edge of the sofa in Damien’s living room.Damien was standing near the window, arms crossed, a mixture of seriousness and vulnerability on his face. I could tell he’d been pacing earlier, his fingers tapping lightly against the frame of the glass as he weighed the decision he was about to share with me.Finally, he turned, and his gaze met mine.“Celeste… I’ve made a decision,” he began, voice steady but low, the weight behind it palpable. “I want to be Atlas’ legal guardian. I want to be here, really here, for him. Not just because it’s expected, not just because… because it’s the right thing. I want to be present.”I blinked, a mix of surprise and relief washing over me. My chest, which had carried tension and wariness since the kidnapping, loosened slightly.“You… you mean it?” I asked softly, my voice almost a whisper.He nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.“I mean it. After everything with Vanessa, with the Voss bro
Damien’s POVI watched Celeste as she stepped further into the house, her eyes taking in the familiar space like she was measuring it against something only she could see.It had been years since she’d been here in any meaningful way, and yet she moved with a kind of quiet assurance, even as the past and present seemed to collide in the corners of the room.I stayed back a little, just enough to observe, just enough to remember what had been and what was.Atlas was on the floor, completely absorbed in his own world, cooing to himself in that way that made your chest ache with relief and pride at the same time.I wanted to smile, to let go of the tension in my shoulders, but the recent events hung over me like a dark cloud. I finally cleared my throat.“Celeste…” My voice caught slightly, and I had to repeat it, firmer this time. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Andre, Grace, Atlas… all of it. I need the full story.”She froze for a heartbeat, glancing at Atlas, who didn’t
Celeste’s POVI parked outside Damien’s house, taking a deep breath before stepping out.The driveway was just as I remembered it, neat, understated, yet filled with little touches that reflected his personality, a perfectly manicured front lawn, a row of hydrangeas along the edge of the walkway.I hadn’t spent much time here since the divorce.Truthfully, I hadn’t felt ready, and for a long while, the house itself seemed to hold echoes of everything that had gone wrong between us.But today was different. I wasn’t coming to relive the past. I was coming to check on a child, to reconnect in a small, meaningful way, and maybe to remind myself that some things could still feel safe.The door opened before I even had time to knock.Damien stood there, wearing his usual tailored suit, looking every inch the composed CEO, but there was softness in his eyes, something almost paternal, that I hadn’t noticed in years.“Celeste,” he said, and for a moment the word hung between us, simple, unado
Celeste’s POVThe morning after the rooftop gathering, the news hit like a tidal wave.Maximilian Edwards was no longer the Chairman of the International Jewelry Association.The headlines weren’t subtle. Trade publications, business journals, even the less reputable online tabloids had splashed the announcement across their sites.Every title carried the same weight, the same bluntness: Maximilian Edwards Ousted from IJA.I read the articles twice, slowly, deliberately, as if seeing it in print made it more real.Then I let myself breathe.It was surreal. Months of strategy, months of navigating threats, months of keeping my head down while Maximilian flexed power and influence, I had been present for the whispers, the subtle shifts in the boardroom, the tension threading through every meeting, but nothing compared to the raw clarity of the moment.The man who had held so much control over our industry, over my life, over Ryan’s life, over the people around him, had finally lost it.A







