Chapter Three-The Rival’s Return

Celine’s POV

I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been dropped from a five-story building—and then run over by a train. My body ached so badly that I wondered if last night had been my first ever night with a man. But it wasn’t that. Lucien was simply a monster.

Water ran in the adjoining bathroom, and the sound made my stomach tighten. He was still here. Just then, the water stopped, and he walked out with a towel wrapped around the lower part of his waist. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, not even for a second.

He looked unearthly, almost glistening as the rays of light from the windows danced across his hard body. I forced my eyes to his face as he dried his hair with the towel, muscles flexing with every movement.

My mouth went dry when his cold grey eyes met mine. I quickly looked away and pretended to still be asleep.

“We’ll be going to the estate tonight for a family dinner. Be ready,” he said. I pursed my lips and sat up slowly.

“I understand,” I murmured, pulling the sheets around me. He strode to the closet to get dressed while I stayed put.

Once Lucien had gone, I rose from the bed and walked toward the bathroom. My legs ached, and my reflection in the mirror made me pause. My fingers clutched the edge of the vanity.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. My skin was pale, marked faintly in places where his hands had been. Long, silvery-blonde hair fell over my shoulders, still messy and tangled from the night before. My lips were faintly swollen, a soft shade of rose, and my eyes were the same icy blue—but tired.

She was beautiful, yes. But she wasn’t me.

She was Celeste.

Celeste would’ve looked at herself and smiled, proud of what she could make a man do. I looked at myself and wondered how long I could keep pretending to be her.

Then something made me gasp. A huge purple mark on my neck—a hickey. I traced my fingers around it with a frown. The spot throbbed beneath my skin, sending a tingle through me.

The water hit my skin, and steam filled the room.

A knock startled me.

“Miss Celeste,” a timid voice said, “It’s me, Lily.”

I opened the door and saw a young maid, no older than twenty, holding a long white box with careful hands. She looked nervous, her eyes darting anywhere but at me.

“Your dress for tonight,” she said.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

When I opened the box, a soft gasp escaped my lips. The gown inside shimmered—it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and probably the most expensive too.

“Sir Lucien is waiting for you at the breakfast table,” the maid announced softly before leaving.

I got dressed in a simple black dress. For a second, I thought of covering the hickey, but then realized it wouldn’t matter.

Downstairs, breakfast had been set—a simple but elegant spread that looked untouched. I sat down, unsure what to do with myself.

Is this what my life would be like now? Fancy breakfasts with a cold, ruthless man who was apparently now my husband?

It felt like a dream—a good and bad dream intertwined.

We ate in silence, like enemies forced to share the same air.

The door flew open without warning.

A tall, striking woman strode in, confidence dripping from every step. Dressed in red silk that screamed allure, she filled the room with her perfume.

“Lucien, darling,” she purred. “You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Ava,” his voice was calm, but a sharp edge undercut every word.

“Why shouldn’t I? Am I supposed to ignore all those reports about Lucien Devereux and Celeste Ward’s happy union?” she asked with such ease it made me wonder who she was to him—a relative? I hadn’t seen her at the wedding, but then again I barely paid any attention to the people there.

“Yes, Ava. You are.” Her expression hardened.

“You said you weren’t going to marry her. You were only going to use her. That was our agreement, Lucien. You lied.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Use me? Not me. Celeste. What is this?

“Watch your tongue, Ava,” he said through gritted teeth. That seemed to amuse her; she smiled knowingly, her eyes flicking to me for the first time.

“Oh. The bride,” she said with mockery like she only just noticed me for the first time. “Congratulations.” I stayed quiet.

“Wild night, huh?” Her eyes glinted with unmistakable hate. Instinctively, my hand flew to the hickey on my neck, pulse quickening. My eyes flicked to Lucien—he barely acted like anything had happened last night, just another regular night.

 I met her gaze.

“What do you want?” I asked, irritation lacing my voice.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Celeste,” she hissed, venom coating every word. “I warned you before, didn’t I?” She tilted her head, lips curling. “I’m Ava Beaumont—Lucien’s fiancé. And I promise to break you before he even gets the chance to have his way.”

My stomach dropped, a flutter of dread spreading through me.

“Ava,” Lucien said finally. “Leave.”

Her smile faltered, but she obeyed—though not without brushing her hand lightly across his shoulder on her way out. He didn’t move, he didn’t even look at me.

When the door shut, the quiet that followed was deafening.

“You’ll have to get used to unwanted guests in this house,” Lucien said at last, still not looking at me.

I sipped my juice, forcing my hands to stay on my lap. My fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calm I tried to maintain.

He finally looked up, his expression unreadable.

“At the dinner tonight,” he said, “you only speak when you’re spoken to. Don’t embarrass me again.” Embarrass him again? What does that even mean?

He pushed off the table and stood.

“Be prepared. We’ll have a handful of events to attend together—” his eyes lingered on me for a beat, “as a couple.”

Then he turned and walked away without another word.

***

I spent most of the day pretending to read. I hadn’t seen Lucien all day, not even once since we had breakfast this morning. The maid, Lily, came in an hour before dinner to remind me about the evening.

Though it was supposed to be a serious family event—my first time meeting my new in-laws—I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I could think about was her—the woman who had shown up uninvited, claiming to be Lucien’s fiancée.

Did Celeste know about her? Did our parents?

I let out a shaky breath and stared out the window. There’s so much I don’t know, and since Lucien clearly isn’t planning to enlighten me, I might as well play the perfect bride and stay out of it, for the sake of my family’s survival. 

The door opened softly behind me. I turned. Lucien stood there, dressed in black, his presence filled the room.

“You’re not ready,” he said flatly.

“I will be,” I answered, meeting his gaze in the mirror. I still had half an hour.

He walked closer, stopping behind me. Our reflections stood side by side, him unreadable and powerful, me small and timid. When his hand brushed my shoulder, I went still.

“You look… beautiful.” He said in a low tone. 

The heat of his palm lingered through the fabric, sending tingles across my skin. My pulse stuttered when he leaned in—close enough that I could feel his breath ghost along my neck. For a moment, neither of us moved. My heart beat rapidly, my thoughts scrambling to keep up.

“Lucien…” I breathed as his lips brushed my neck—right over the hickey. His mark. He pulled my hair to the side, and I almost melted when his teeth grazed my ear, a soft nibble that sent heat spiraling down my spine.

“You’ve changed,” he said quietly. “Celeste, I wonder what you’re hiding this time.”