CHAPTER 3

They say revenge is best served cold, but tonight, mine was wearing diamonds, designer silk, and a man the world would kill to touch. Most feared. Youngest billionaire ever heard.

I stepped out of the limousine onto the crimson carpet rolled out at the Sinclair Foundation Gala, camera flashes erupting like gunfire. Every eye snapped to me. Every eye blink got snapped—and more importantly, to the man whose arm I held softly. Everyone wants to have a picture of him. Some wanted to touch him but couldn't dare to. The guards made sure he was well protected.

Damien Sinclair.

He looked devastating in black. Impossibly confident, dangerous, and also a phantom of wealth and secrets. But as we moved through the crowd like royalty, I realized I wasn’t his decoration. I was his statement. His tool for revenge. 

And yes, the artists and the designer he hired did a great job on me. One could barely recognize I was the low life Celesteel working tiredly every day.

 The makeup changed my facial look, making me look more gorgeous. Elegant and beautified.

“Smile,” he murmured at my temple,lowering his head below to my ears.

 “They’re all watching.”

I smiled instantly.

 The crowd parted as Damien raised his glass, a smile across his face . 

“To my fiancée, Celeste Carter,” he announced smoothly, turning his gaze at me. Laughter died from every corner of the hall. Forks froze mid-air, like the air was suffocating. Glasses stopped mid-toast. All eyes were pinned at him.

My heart skipped. Beating faster than it has ever done.

 That word. Fiancée? That wasn’t in the contract. My name was already trending, no doubt with headlines screaming, From discarded wife to billionaire bride.

I swallowed the champagne, feeling it burn down like acid. I wanted to react. To tell him it wasn't in the contract. To stop him from further calling me his fiancée. But something in me stopped me. I couldn't move my fist,my eyes were glued to an unknown and the smile plastered on my face like I was happy with the decision.

Minutes later, we entered a private room roped off for elite guests. That’s when I saw them. 

Ethan and his porcelain doll of a bride-to-be. My heart skipped at first but I stood still, anger boiling in me.I wanted to hit her with some blows and make her feel the pains I had faced just to make Ethan get where he was but I held myself. Clenching my fist yet the fake smile flashes across my face.

“slow burn revenge until he bends”

The reaction on his face was instant. He wasn't expecting me. Well served.

His arm stiffened when he saw me. Her smile faltered, staring at my face and Damien. For one delicious moment, I watched power shift like a seesaw—me rising, them sinking. Her cheeks I must say were burning red but she couldn't do anything to stop the moment.

“Celeste,” Ethan choked, and I leaned into Damien’s arm, letting his hand rest possessively on my waist.

“You look… well,” I said, my voice I knew was like poison silked down his lung.

Damien’s fingers subtly flexed against my hip. “We’re so glad you could join us. It’s going to be quite the wedding season.” he dropped.

Brielle's jaw tightened and her mouth went wide, she wasn't expecting it to the core. Ethan's eyes darted to Damien’s face and back to mine. That’s when I knew—he was afraid of him. He dare not stand up against.

It was all I wanted, to have both of them beg me. It was like a dream coming true but not yet. This was just the beginning for Brielle and Ethan.

 Later that day, in Damien’s penthouse, I walked barefoot across the marble floor, heels discarded like weapons after battle. The city glittered below us, silent witnesses to what we were about to do.

He stood by the window, his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his chest which was carved from stone and shadow review. “You played your part well tonight.”

 “That I want you to keep up”

I wanted to slap him. But I paused.

Instead, I stalked toward him, grabbed his collar, my eyes staring at his for a moment all I wanted was to have his lips.

 Even with those sets of eyes, I could admit he was cute and kissed him like he was oxygen and I was drowning.

It was so intended that our clothes came off. Our breaths turned into growls. I didn’t want soft or sweet—I wanted to be ruined. I want him to destroy me. He was already doing it but I wanted more. The soft moans escape my lips, biting his lower lips softly, my eyes drip down to his short.

He pressed me against the cold glass wall, the New York was blinking behind me, and then he lifted me like I weighed nothing, our lips still stuck together.

 My nails raked down his back, dragging out a low curse from his throat. I wanted it the most.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, with a very rough voice. “Say it.” I moaned gently.

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to admit how much I wanted this—wanted him. I wanted him to stop, I wanted to end the kiss.

 But I was obsessed. I couldn't say no to him.I wanted him non stop!

Halfway through, he pulled away.

“What the hell—?” 

His hand cupped my face gently, tender in a way that disarmed me more than his aggression. “Not like this,” he whispered softly to my ears. “Not when you’re still trying to use me like a drug.”

He left me trembling, half-naked, aching for more. I was annoyed! I stretched my hand. To grab him back and continue. But my hand just hangs halfway. I watched him leave.

The regret burns deep down inside me. I could have stopped him before he did now I look cheap to him.

 After I watched him disappear into his study, I roamed around the penthouse, drawn to a display case filled with vintage jewelry. One piece stopped my heart. Taking some step back, I gaze at it.

A delicate silver necklace with a sapphire teardrop pendant. My mother’s……

I opened my mouth to speak but no words were formed. 

I reached for it, to touch it. To feel if it was actually the pendant but —just as then Damien stepped out, his face filled with unreadable expression.

“You remember it.” he asked with a smirk on his face as he took the pendant.

My throat dried, I was trying to process it. “Where did you get this?” I ignored his question.

Staring at me for a whole, he smirked. Fake a smile on his face and walked to the bar.

He poured himself whiskey, not answering the question.

“How long have you been watching me?” I demanded, walking closer to him with determination written over my face.

It was getting obvious he had been watching me for a long time. 

My childhood picture. My mother's pendant. The words he reminded me of. Everything. Everything makes me believe he had been watching me or had a thing with my family.

He swirled the glass across my face then sip from it before responding .

“Long enough to know you’re not the only one with scars.” he dropped.

I didn't get that word right. What does he mean by that? 

 I asked myself before I turned to ask him. He was gone with the pendant. 

Scumbag! 

Later that night, I found an envelope on the desk in my room. No return address. Just my name in looping ink.

Inside was an old photograph. Three children at a birthday party—Ethan, me, and another boy whose face was scratched out violently with red ink.

Beneath it, a single line word:

“One of them destroyed your family.”

My fingers went numb. Trembling at the same time. 

Behind me, Damien’s voice which was low, heavy with something dark—cut through the silence and left shivers down my spine.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” 

I turned slowly, the picture still in my hand. Memories were flashing through. 

Slowly I walked closer to him. Tears filled my eyes but I held it up. Standing face to face with him. I stare into his eyes. They

were filled with unreadable expressions I couldn't explain but I needed a response.

“Who are you?”