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Chapter 17: Protecting the Atelier

Penulis: Tosin Evermoon
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-10-18 01:19:16

Celeste

The smell of raw silk and untreated dye always had a way of grounding me, but today, it felt like standing in a room full of smoke.

I leaned against the worn oak cutting table in the center of the studio, staring at the empty wooden racks that lined the brick wall. In less than three weeks, those racks were supposed to hold sixteen handcrafted evening gowns for the Autumn Runway Show. Sixteen pieces that were meant to prove to the entire industry—and to my family's creditors—that Sincla
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  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter 17: Protecting the Atelier

    CelesteThe smell of raw silk and untreated dye always had a way of grounding me, but today, it felt like standing in a room full of smoke.I leaned against the worn oak cutting table in the center of the studio, staring at the empty wooden racks that lined the brick wall. In less than three weeks, those racks were supposed to hold sixteen handcrafted evening gowns for the Autumn Runway Show. Sixteen pieces that were meant to prove to the entire industry—and to my family's creditors—that Sinclair Atelier wasn't dying. That I wasn't dying.Instead, I had four bolts of cheap, stiff muslin and a bank account so bone-dry that the utility company had sent two final disconnection notices in the morning mail."Celeste, the suppliers are refusing to release the velvet," Maya said quietly, stepping through the glass doors of the office. She held a stack of invoices against her chest like a shield. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun that looked ready to co

  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter 16: Silent Surveilance

    CelesteThe blinking red light on the smoke detector was smaller than a grain of rice, but in the quiet dark of three in the morning, it felt as loud as a siren.I lay perfectly still on the silk sheets, keeping my breathing even and slow. In through the nose, out through the mouth. A steady, rhythmic rise and fall of my chest that would look to anyone watching like a woman deep in dreamless sleep. My body was exhausted, but my mind was operating at a fever pitch, tracking every tiny anomaly in the East Wing.It had taken me four days to notice the pattern. Four days of living in this gilded cage before the subtle, unnatural details stopped looking like luxury and started looking like prison bars.The smart mirror in the bathroom took a half-second too long to activate when I walked in, its camera lens making an imperceptible click behind the tinted glass. The digital thermostat on the wall clicked on whenever I spoke above a whisper, its internal microphone adjusting to the change in

  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter 15: Rumours At the Fitting

    Celeste’s POVThe silk felt like a lie under my fingertips.It was a brilliant, liquid emerald—a fabric so expensive it seemed to carry its own weight as I draped it over the shoulders of Mrs. Evelyn Vance. My atelier in the heart of the city was supposed to be my sanctuary, the only place where I wasn't just the collateral damage of my father’s sins or the captive bride of Victor’s empire. Here, with a mouthful of silver pins and a tape measure draped around my neck, I was just a designer. I had control.Or at least, I pretended I did."A little tighter around the bodice, Celeste, darling," Evelyn murmured, inspecting her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She was the wife of a federal judge, a woman whose blood ran as cold as the diamonds resting against her collarbone. "I have a gala on Friday, and I refuse to let that dreadful Moretti woman outshine me again.""Of course, Mrs. Vance," I replied smoothly, dropping to my knees to adjust the hemline. The cold marble floor see

  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter14: The Masked Billionaire

    Celeste’s POVThe heavy weight of emeralds felt like a cold blade resting against my collarbone.I stood on the glass balcony of the Sovereign Lounge, looking down into a cavernous ballroom dripping in gold leaf and black crystal. Down below, the world’s elite moved like polished ghosts—men in hand-tailored tuxedoes, women draped in haute couture that cost more than my family’s entire estate. These weren't mere local elites or wealthy socialites. I recognized three sitting state governors, two foreign ambassadors, and the CEO of the world’s largest defense contractor mingling casually beside champagne towers.And yet, none of them were the center of gravity in this room.That honor belonged to the man standing behind me, his hand resting lightly against the small of my back.Victor’s palm was warm through the thin satin of my gown, but his touch carried no tenderness. It was an anchor. A reminder of ownership. He wore an immaculate, obsidian-black tuxedo with no lapel pin, no flashy w

  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter 13: Public Performance

    Celeste’s POVThe emerald silk of the gown felt less like haute couture and more like tailored armor. The back was cut impossibly low, exposing the faint, sensitive skin on the small of my waist where Victor’s fingers had dug into me hours earlier in the dark hallway. Now, under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the vanity mirror, I stared at my own reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back. My lips were painted a fierce, unapologetic crimson. My dark hair was pinned into a sleek, impenetrable crown.I looked serene. I looked expensive. I looked like the beloved bride of a syndicate titan.And beneath the silk, I was trembling so hard my teeth clicked together."You're stiff," Victor’s voice cut through the soft purr of the limousine engine.He sat across from me in the custom leather interior, impeccably tailored in a dark charcoal suit that hid every trace of the monster who had pinned me to a marble wall standard hours ago. His white shirt was pristine, his silver c

  • THE WIFE HE CHOSE FOR REVENGE   Chapter 12: The Battle of Wills

    Celeste’s POVThe tablet screen in Rossi’s hands hummed with a low, continuous chime of incoming press alerts, but the sound felt miles away, drowned out by the sudden, violent roar of blood in my ears.A video confession. An open transmission. A dead man's switch.My father hadn't sold me to settle a debt. He hadn't thrown me to Victor Moretti out of cowardice or desperation. He had handed me over as a primed grenade, waiting for the exact moment when pulling the pin would save his own empire and blow Victor’s to pieces. I was never a bargaining chip to him; I was collateral damage he had calculated months ago.A wave of nausea hit me so fast the cold marble floor seemed to tilt beneath my bare feet. My fingers dug into the wall behind my back, searching for anything solid to keep me upright.Victor didn't scream. He didn't smash the glass or bark out panicked orders. That was the most terrifying thing about him—his anger didn't explode; it froze. The oppressive, feverish heat that h

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