Chapter 4

Celeste's POV

Four dollars and twenty-six cents.

That was all I had left.

I stared at the worn bills and coins in my wallet like they’d suddenly multiply if I looked sad enough. But the numbers didn’t change, and the ache in my stomach wasn’t going to wait politely until payday.

I dropped onto the bench outside a tiny plaza building, my resume folder sliding off my lap and onto the seat beside me. My shoes were worn, my legs ached, and I was too exhausted to cry. I’d spent the entire day walking around downtown, knocking on every business door I could find, practically begging someone to take a chance on me.

But I wasn’t qualified enough. Or experienced enough. Or available full-time enough. Or God forbid, 'professional-looking' enough with the tired circles under my eyes and anxiety bleeding into every word I said.

I pressed my palm to my face and let out a long breath. My stomach growled again.

No food. No coffee. Just disappointment and a pounding headache.

“Hey,” a voice said, warm and bright. “You alright?”

I looked up, startled.

A guy stood in front of me. He had a big, easy smile and a mess of dark curls pushed up by a pair of sunglasses resting on his head. His hoodie sleeves were shoved up his arms, and he radiated sunshine in a way that felt painfully out of place next to the storm cloud in my chest.

I quickly straightened, hugging the resume folder close. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. “You sure? You look like the world just kicked you in the teeth and told you to keep smiling.”

I huffed a quiet laugh despite myself. “That’s… not far off.”

He smiled again and slid onto the bench beside me without asking. “Job hunting?”

I nodded wordlessly.

“I figured. That folder’s got the ‘please hire me or I might scream’ vibe.”

I bit back a smile. “Yeah, well… I’ve been to ten places already.”

“Any luck?”

I shook my head. “Not even a callback.”

He hummed and tapped his fingers against the bench. “If you’re open to anything, I might know a place.”

I turned my head. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Big company just a block from here. I was there earlier doing a favor, and it looked like they were doing interviews for a secretary or something. Could be worth a shot.”

My stomach twisted. “Do you know the name of the company?”

“Vale Group.”

The breath caught in my throat.

I froze, my fingers tightening on the folder.

Vale Group.

Of all the companies in this city. Of all the buildings.

I nodded slowly, careful not to let my expression give anything away. “I’ve… heard of it.”

“They’re just around the corner,” he said. “I can walk you over if you want. It’s no trouble.”

I should’ve said no. I should’ve stood up and walked in the opposite direction and kept pretending that night three years ago never happened.

But pride was a tricky thing. And so was kindness.

He was trying to help. And walking away now would feel like wasting what little good the world had decided to offer me today.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “Thanks.”

“I’m Theo, by the way,” he said as we stood.

“Celeste.”

He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Celeste.”

The moment I saw the glass-paneled lobby of Vale Group, my chest tightened.

This wasn’t a building. It was a statement. Every surface gleamed. Every corner smelled like ambition. The employees moved with sharp posture and clipped voices. I stood at the entrance like a misplaced piece of the puzzle, too plain, too small.

Theo held the door and gave me a little nudge of encouragement. “Don’t stress. The guy at the top’s a little cold, but he’s fair. Just… try not to take it personally if he doesn’t smile.”

I nodded once, silently.

If only he knew.

The receptionist directed me to the top floor, saying someone would see me shortly. Theo gave me a wink and said he’d head out.

“You’ve got this,” he said before turning away.

I didn’t have this.

I had no idea what I was doing, only that something inside me was screaming.

Still, I entered the elevator, clutched the folder to my chest, and rode it all the way up.

When the doors slid open, I was met with silence.

The hallway was pristine. Too pristine.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I stepped down the corridor, pausing just outside a frosted glass door.

The receptionist gave a short nod. “You can go in now.”

I pushed the door open slowly and stopped breathing.

Killian Vale.

He sat behind the desk, sleeves rolled to his forearms, jacket tossed on a nearby chair. His dark hair was neater than it was that night, but everything else was the same. The sharp jaw. The cold, focused eyes. The air of effortless control.

He looked up.

Our eyes met.

My lungs stopped working.

He didn’t say anything right away.

Neither did I.

But it was there.

Recognition.

Undeniable and unspoken.

“Please,” he said, voice quiet, smooth. “Have a seat.”

I sat, my knees stiff, hands clenching the folder so tightly I thought I’d rip through it.

He picked up the resume, glanced at it briefly, then set it down again.

“Celeste Rivera,” he said, his tone unreadable. “You’re applying for the secretary position.”

“Yes,” I answered, voice carefully even.

“You’ve had experience in archival work, reception, and filing systems.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t look at me. Not right away.

But when he did. Those eyes, cold and familiar, settled right on mine.

“I thought you vanished.”

The words sent a jolt through my spine.

I kept my face still. “Excuse me?”

“That night,” he said. “You disappeared. No name. No note.”

I straightened slightly in my seat, keeping my expression composed. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

His lips twitched, just faintly.

“Most people don’t walk out on me.”

“You should be grateful I didn’t stay,” I said, a little too sharply.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“So you did remember.”

That was it.

That was the spark that lit the fire.

I stood.

“That’s enough.”

He didn’t stop me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why did you leave?” His voice had changed.

No teasing now. Just low, calm intensity that made it feel like the room had shrunk around me.

My grip on the folder tightened. My heart pounded.

I had to get out of here.

“I’m not interested in this position anymore,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “Thank you for your time.”

“Celeste—”

“I said thank you.”

He reached into the desk and pulled out a card. Matte black. Polished.

He held it out.

“If you change your mind.”

I hesitated, staring at it like it might explode. Then I snatched it from his fingers, turned, and walked out the door without looking back.

The elevator ride down was silent. But my thoughts were screaming.