LOGINThank you for reading
Celine’s POVThere was a knock at the door.For a second, I just stand still. It was ridiculous the way a simple sound could send my heart skittering in my chest.I took a steadying breath and went to open the door.Ryan El stood there looking breathless and slightly disheveled. Her cream blouse loose and a few strands of her hair slipping out of her otherwise secure bun. She looked as if she had maybe rushed over. Her eyes swept over me, my face, my clothes, then the overalls still trapped in my grip, then back to my face.I forgot how to breathe for half a second. Then, as if only realising who she was, my lips broke into a happy grin.“Hey,” I said softly, stepping aside. “Come in.”Her gaze lingered on me for a moment before she moved. Concern was already written all over her face, even as she smiled.“What happened?” I asked before she could. “You look like you sprinted up the stairs.”Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brows raised slightly.“I should be asking the questions here,”
Celine’s POV Ryan El’s reply comes in the next morning while I'm trying to make something to eat. The apartment seems to be settling because sometimes at night I suddenly wake to noise. Or maybe it's because I sleep alone now. Ryan El:She’s out of surgery. Tired. But stable. They said it went well.My chest loosens in relief, a bright smile coats my lips as I see the text. Celine:Thank God. I’m so glad. Please kiss her forehead for me.I stir the contents of the pan slowly with the wooden spoon, tracing lazy circles through onions that have just begun to turn translucent. They hiss softly in the oil, edges curling, the smell warm and sweet as it fills the kitchen. Are pregnant women allowed to have fried stuff? I'm not sure, I'll have to look it up later.Or maybe you're just weirdly doing too much celine, chill the fuck out. I pause to scrape the bottom, lifting the caramelizing bits before they burn, then add a pinch of salt to draw out more moisture. I sigh deeply as the ste
Celine's POV Adrian’s attention shifted toward the door, his tone softening into a gentle finality. I could tell he was about to leave. He slipped his hands into his pockets again and looked up at me. He was done, that was for sure.“I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said lightly. “You should rest.”Ahh, there we go. Rest. As if my mind wasn’t a battlefield. As if sleep wasn’t a punishment at this moment.He turned slightly, just enough for me to see the broad line of his shoulders — and panic rose in my throat.Because he didn’t know, and he needed to know. If he walked out now, if he kept helping me like this…Then I’d be lying all over.Again.And I was so tired of that.“Wait.”The word slipped out before I could second-guess it. It sounded small in the large quiet room. He paused. Slowly, he turned back to face me as his eyes searched mine.“Yes?”My fingers tightened around my arm. My chest felt tight, like every secret was pressing against my ribs, begging to finally breathe.“You’ve
Celine’s POV I swallowed as I watched him, a bit surprised and confused. My throat tightened because the right thing didn’t feel right. It felt like being scraped hollow from the inside. It felt like bitter loss.“What… what do you mean?” I asked quietly, hating the way my voice sounded weak. His face gave very little away, but there was something in his eyes. It wasn’t pity or mockery, but something else completely. Something that didn’t want to make me hate myself more.Then he just smiled, showing off his whitened teeth.“I mean,” he said softly, “I’m going to help you set up.”My brows knitted together. That was not what he meant. I don’t know why he changed direction, but I knew he was lying through his sparkling incisors.“Set up… what?”“Your life,” he replied simply. He said it like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t the most impossible thing in the world. Rebuilding myself was a mountain I had already failed to climb once… twice. And it felt really weird to hear that.I felt sma
Celine's POV I could have begged Lucien. God knows I wanted to. I wanted to fall to my knees and clutch at him and scream that it wasn’t what he thought. That I wasn’t what they said. That I wasn’t a liar. That I wasn’t crazy. That I wasn’t this horrible, horrible person they had painted me to be.But I didn’t.Because when he looked at me like that, like I was a stranger — my voice just… died.So now I am alone.And it feels deserved. Because maybe I actually am just that bad.The doctor speaks, the nurse hands me papers, someone tells me to drink water and rest. Their mouths move but I’m somewhere else entirely. I am still standing in that room. Still hearing my name spoken like I was a killer on the run.Still hearing him say leave.I sign where they tell me to sign. I nod when they ask me anything. I keep one hand over my stomach because I can’t help it now. It was my only anchor to the world. I don’t even know if I deserve to touch this child growing inside me, but I do it anywa
Ava’s POVThe mansion felt a bit too silent than Ava liked it to be. She was still in a good mood from everything that happened that she felt like she was levitating when she strode through the house.The living room smelled faintly of old wood and expensive leather. Everyone else had retreated to their corners of the mansion, worried, shocked or angry. Ava, however, had work to do. Lucien sat in front of his floor to ceiling window in his study, his back rigid and his hands clasped like a king on trial. His eyes flicked to her when he heard his door shut. Ava's lips curved almost imperceptibly. The look alone, equal parts pain and suspicion, made her stomach tighten with satisfaction. Good. Let him be wary. She thought to herself.“Lucien,” she said lightly in a milky soft, seductive tone. She carried two glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I thought you might want a drink.” she said, but what she means is, ‘let us celebrate.’Lucien didn't respond, just stay







