Chapter Six

Celeste

By the time the clock struck twelve-thirty, my brain was already halfway to the cafeteria.

“Let’s go before the line gets criminal,” Ava said, popping up from her cubicle like a caffeinated meerkat.

“Criminal’s an understatement,” I muttered, grabbing my phone and following her to the elevator. “Why does everyone eat like they haven’t seen food in years?”

She snorted. “Because this company starves you with trauma. Free lunch is the only therapy.”

We made our way through the crowded hallways, past coworkers rushing in every direction, past cold glass offices and automatic doors. Ava led the way like she owned the floor — her badge swinging, her ponytail bouncing. I admired that about her. Unbothered. Confident. The complete opposite of what I felt like on Day Two of surviving Williams Corp.

As soon as we stepped into the cafeteria, I felt it.

The shift.

Not huge, not loud — but subtle. A few glances. A couple of whispers.

I caught someone nudge their seatmate, eyes flicking in our direction. A trio of assistants near the drink station giggled behind their hands. Another girl straight-up stared, then looked away like I’d burned her retina.

Okay. Weird.

“...are they looking at me?” I whispered, leaning toward Ava as we joined the line.

“Oh yeah,” she said, way too casually. “You’re basically a celebrity now.”

I blinked. “What?”

Ava leaned in, grin wide. “Word got out.”

“About what?”

“You. CEO’s new secretary. Elevator. Ring any bells?”

Oh, crap.

I groaned. “Seriously? That’s a thing now?”

“You used the executive elevator, Celeste. That’s like entering heaven without dying. Of course it’s a thing.”

I covered my face. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re not. That thing’s practically sacred. Only the execs use it. The fact that Mr. Williams—” She glanced around dramatically, lowering her voice. “—let you in? On your second day?”

I looked at her like she had grown three heads. “He didn’t let me. He just… said ‘come in.’ It was awkward.”

“Exactly.” Ava wagged her eyebrows. “Which makes it even more interesting.”

I sighed and moved forward in the line, praying for invisibility.

But no such luck.

As we grabbed trays and scanned the menu, the murmurs kept coming. Bits of sentences floated around us like smoke.

“...that’s her, right?”

“...heard Violet didn’t look too happy about it…”

“...she’s kinda pretty, isn’t she?”

I wanted to crawl into the salad bar and disappear.

“Relax,” Ava whispered as we picked our meals. “They’ll get over it. In like, a week.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Only three more days of this circus.”

I ordered grilled chicken with mashed potatoes and a side of mental breakdown. Ava went for the spicy ramen, naturally.

We found a small table by the window, a little away from the bulk of the crowd.

As soon as I sat down, I let out a sigh.

“At least the food smells decent.”

“Perk number one,” Ava said, slurping a noodle. “Perk number two? You survived two days without quitting. That’s more than most interns.”

“Barely.”

She chuckled, then gave me a knowing look. “And come on... admit it. A small part of you enjoyed riding that elevator.”

I stabbed a piece of chicken with my fork, refusing to meet her eyes. “No comment.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Ava was in the middle of explaining how the IT guy in the fourth floor had once hacked the snack machine to get unlimited KitKats when the air shifted.

I felt it before I saw her.

That static drop in temperature. That instinctive tension crawling up my spine like a warning siren.

Then I heard the heels.

“Speak of the ice queen,” Ava muttered, eyes locking on something behind me. “Don’t turn. She’s walking over.”

Too late.

I looked up just as Violet Yu stopped beside our table, her perfectly manicured hands crossed in front of her pristine white blazer.

“Miss Shawn,” she said, voice honeyed but sharp. “I thought I’d find you here.”

I set down my fork. Calmly. Deliberately.

“Miss Yu,” I greeted with a small nod, not bothering to smile. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you can explain why Mr. Williams personally drove you home yesterday?” Her voice was loud enough to catch the attention of the nearby tables.

Several people paused mid-bite.

I didn’t blink.

“My daughter went missing,” I said smoothly. “He offered a ride after I received a distressing phone call. As any decent boss would.”

A flicker of something flashed in her eyes — annoyance, maybe. Or jealousy wrapped in self-control.

“And the executive elevator?” she said next, smile tight. “Not everyone gets that privilege.”

“True,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “But maybe not everyone’s smart enough to press the right button at the right time.”

Ava coughed into her drink to hide her laugh.

Violet’s expression didn’t waver — but her jaw twitched.

“You’re new here, so let me give you some advice,” she said icily. “People notice things. Especially things that don’t belong.”

“Oh, I agree,” I said sweetly. “Which is why I always wonder how someone like you still manages to blend in.”

Her mouth parted — stunned for just a second. Then she regained her composure, tossing her hair back like a bad attitude extension.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

I gave her the softest, slowest smile. “Neither do you.”

Silence.

And for one perfect moment, the entire cafeteria held its breath.

Violet turned away, clearly finished with her little power play.

But the silence hadn’t settled yet.

Not fully.

Because just as she took her first step, she paused.

And then, without warning—

She reached over to my tray, grabbed the plate of food, and with a sharp flick of her wrist—

hurled it at me.

The cafeteria fell silent.

Violet stood there, smug and satisfied, as my lunch slid down my chest, the greasy sauce soaking into the soft cream fabric of my blouse. My tray had crashed to the floor, peas and rice scattered like a crime scene.

The noise? Deafening.

The tension? Thicker than the gravy on my shirt.

“Oops,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her blazer. “Clumsy me.”

I looked down at myself. Ruined blouse. Sticky arms. The air was heavy with whispers.

I took a slow, sharp breath.

Then looked up — directly at her — and smiled.

“You know,” I said lightly, brushing a wet strand of rice from my sleeve, “I used to think food fights were reserved for middle school. Good to know some people never graduated emotionally.”

She stepped closer, the confidence in her heels now louder than ever.

“You really think you’re clever, don’t you?” she hissed.

“No,” I said, cocking my head. “I just don’t think I need to throw food to win an argument.”

Violet’s eyes flared.

“You don’t belong here,” she snapped. “You think just because Sebastian gave you a second of his attention, that makes you someone? Let me remind you—you’re just an assistant.”

Her voice rose, biting and vicious.

“And yet somehow,” I murmured, “you still feel smaller.”

Another wave of gasps rippled across the cafeteria.

Ava stiffened beside me.

I didn’t flinch.

I looked her dead in the eyes. “Oh, I see,” I said slowly, nodding. “You’re the PR package.”

“What?”

“The woman they pair with powerful men to make them look stable. Picture-perfect on the outside… empty on the inside.”

Violet’s face turned red.

“I love Sebastian,” she snapped. “And he loves me. We belong together. So whatever little fantasy you have about being noticed by him? End it now.”

I chuckled, soft and sharp. “Believe me, sweetheart… you don’t have to worry about me. Your real competition is reality — and you’re clearly losing to that already.”

Before she could scream—

“Enough.”

That voice.

Low. Stern. Familiar.

Every head turned.

Sebastian.

Standing at the entrance, eyes dark, expression unreadable. His presence silenced the room.

Violet’s mouth parted. “Seb—”

But he held up a hand.

“I saw what just happened,” he said, his tone like ice. “Every second of it.”

The tension coiled tighter.

Violet straightened. “It was an accident. She—”

“You threw food at my secretary.”

“But she was provoking—”

“She was standing up for herself,” he said coldly. “Which she had every right to do.”

His gaze cut toward me.

Messy. Stained. And still standing.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.

His eyes flicked back to Violet. “Leave. Now.”

“What?”

“This is a workplace. Not a playground. Get out before you embarrass yourself further.”

The hush in the cafeteria was absolute.

But Violet wasn’t done. Not yet.

Her voice shook. “You’re defending her over me?”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “I’m not defending anyone,” he said coolly, stepping forward. “But I am wondering why you thought that kind of behavior was acceptable in my company.”

Violet turned to him, hurt flashing across her face. “Sebastian…”

Violet’s mouth parted. “Sebastian…”

He stepped past her and turned to me instead. His eyes dropped briefly to the stain on my blouse, then slowly met mine. “Are you alright?”

I froze.

Sebastian.

He was suddenly beside me, his brow furrowed, voice gentle—but his eyes sharp and unreadable. He looked at me, not like a CEO checking on his employee, but like someone… genuinely concerned.

I was about to answer—when a hand grabbed my arm.

Firm. Familiar.

I turned quickly—and my breath caught.

No. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

“Celeste?”

The name left his mouth in disbelief. “It’s really you…”

Adrian Lee.

The same Adrian who once promised me forever and shattered it in one night. The same Adrian who made me believe in happy endings, only to prove they didn’t exist.

I yanked my arm back instinctively. “What are you—?”

Before I could finish, Sebastian stepped forward, his presence sharp and commanding.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, his voice suddenly colder. Protective.

Adrian gave a small laugh. “No problem, Mr. Williams. We just… know each other. Old friends.”

I could feel Sebastian’s gaze flick to me. The tension between the two of them was instant—quiet, but suffocating.

“Really.” Sebastian’s voice dropped a notch. “Because it didn’t look like a friendly hello.”

He straightened his blazer, expression unreadable. “Didn’t mean to cause any disruption.”

“You didn’t,” Sebastian said smoothly, though there was a quiet warning in his voice. “Just a reminder—this floor’s not for personal reunions.”

“Understood.” Adrian dipped his head slightly, then glanced at me again—his voice quieter this time. “It’s just been a while.”

Then he walked off, just like that.

I stood frozen, my arms still wrapped around myself. My skin crawled—not because of Adrian’s touch, but because of everything that came rushing back with it.

Sebastian stepped closer. I could feel the heat of him, the way his presence seemed to wrap around me like a second skin.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice lower now—gentler. Controlled, but tight with something unspoken.

I nodded faintly. “Yeah. I just… didn’t expect him to be here.”

His eyes searched my face. Then his voice hardened. “Who is he to you?”

I hesitated. “He’s… someone I used to know.”

That answer clearly didn’t sit well with him.

“Celeste.” His tone dropped—serious now. Almost demanding.

I looked away. “It’s complicated.”

His jaw ticked. His fists clenched at his sides.

“He doesn’t get to touch you like that again,” he said sharply. “Ever.”

Before I could speak, he shrugged off his blazer and stepped closer. The fabric was warm from his body, his cologne clinging to it—sharp, clean, undeniably him. Gently, he placed it over my shoulders, his hand lingering at the nape of my neck, as if grounding me.

“Head back upstairs,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Then he faced her fully, shoulders squared like a storm ready to break.

“Violet.”

Just her name. Cold. Final.

She flinched.

Before she could say a word, he stepped closer and reache:/ d for her arm—not gentle, not cruel, but firm. His grip stopped her in her tracks.

“We’re done here,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sebastian—”

“Don’t make a scene in my company.”

And just like that, without sparing her another look, he guided her toward the exit. His hand never left her arm. Every movement screamed restraint—tight, dangerous, controlled.

I stood frozen, the weight of his coat anchoring me in place.

Those words—those actions—they struck something deep.

Startling. Protective.

Like fury wrapped in ice, but not aimed at me. No—for me.

And yet... underneath all that cold fire, there was something else.

Something darker.

Possessive.

He wasn’t just my boss anymore.

Something had shifted.