The day had not fully broken through the haze of her thoughts when Celeste made her decision. Katie’s words lingered in her ears. It wasn’t merely the loyalty that struck her, it was the rare, unflinching devotion of someone who had chosen her, even beyond death.Seated at the dining table, the glass cup now warm beneath her fingers, Celeste lifted her eyes to Katie. The young woman’s posture was polite, restrained, but her eyes carried a weight that belied her calm. She had come here prepared to risk much by speaking the truth, and that kind of faith deserved something more.Celeste inhaled slowly, then placed the glass cup down with deliberate care.“Come with me,” she said.Katie blinked, uncertain, her brows knitting ever so slightly. “Celeste?”“Follow me.” Celeste rose gracefully, her chair sliding back across the marble floor. Without another word, she turned toward the sweeping staircase that climbed into the private wings of the mansion.Katie hesitated. Her visits here were
“Celeste.”Katie’s voice carried softly yet firmly across the dining hall, breaking the quiet hum of morning. She didn’t bother with titles, as though her first name was enough. Celine had once asked her to do that, a way to preserve some intimacy in the formal world of business.Celeste lifted her eyes from her untouched teacup. She forced a smile. “Katie. You’re here without warning.”The younger woman stepped forward, sliding gracefully into one of the high-backed chairs at the end of the glass dining table. Her gaze flickered briefly, first to Ònààrà, who leaned lazily against the archway, then back to Celeste. A stillness settled between the three women, heavy with unspoken things.Katie folded her hands in front of her, knuckles pale. She didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she drew a leather folder from her bag and placed it on the glass. The soft thud of paper against the polished surface rang louder than it should have.Celeste’s eyes dropped briefly to the file, then back to
The steam from her evening bath still clung faintly to her skin as Evelyn crossed the quiet room. Bare feet sank into the softness of the carpet, her damp hair tumbling loosely down her back, leaving tiny droplets that kissed the silk of her nightdress. She hummed as she moved, an absent-minded tune with no real name, the kind that seemed to float out of her without effort.The day had left her oddly light. A full day spent outside, a full day in her own consciousness. And Darren, her lips curved involuntarily at the thought, Darren had been there. The laughter, the way he had looked at her, the ease she hadn’t expected. She had told herself it was only an outing, nothing more, but her heart had betrayed her with every quickened beat.She slipped beneath the sheets, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. The bed welcomed her with a familiar comfort, but it felt different tonight warmer, softer, like it was wrapping her in something she had almost forgotten existed: happiness. Evelyn
The little garden café was tucked away from the city’s noise, its wrought-iron tables scattered beneath flowering jacaranda trees. Sunlight sifted through violet blossoms, spilling onto the stone path where Darren walked beside her. He had chosen the place deliberately, somewhere quiet, somewhere that promised discretion. Yet as they stepped inside, Evelyn could feel the stares. Even here, a few heads turned, whispers trailing after them.She held herself steady, straight-backed as Celeste, but her heart was thudding with a rhythm that belonged only to Evelyn. It had been weeks since she had lived a day in her own skin during daylight, unmasked, unmeasured. And though she was still hiding, pretending to be Celeste, something about the morning had refused to let the mask hold completely.Darren pulled out her chair. She murmured thanks, and when their eyes met briefly, she felt an unsettling current. He was looking at her differently today. Not the wary, strategic gaze of a man negotia
Evelyn woke with sunlight.The first sensation was warmth, pure, golden light streaming across her face, slipping between the silk curtains of her bedroom. She inhaled sharply, startled, because she never woke like this. Mornings belonged to her, to Celine’s spirit, not to Evelyn. Usually, she only claimed the darker hours, late at night when the world slept and the mansion felt like hers for a while. But this morning…This morning, the body was hers.Her heart drummed, half in panic, half in awe. She pushed herself up on the wide canopy bed, feeling the crisp linen slide across her bare arms. The room around her came into focus: soft cream wallpaper, oil paintings carefully chosen by Celeste’s hand, the ornate chandelier glittering faintly with sunlight. The vanity across the room looked polished, untouched. The scent of fresh lilies in a vase filled the air, a perfume of elegance she never quite claimed as her own.It was beautiful, yes. But it wasn’t hers.Evelyn swung her feet ont
Ingrid read the headlines with the satisfied smile of a queen watching her pieces fall perfectly into place. The morning papers lay spread across her mahogany desk, each one emblazoned with images of Darren and Celeste caught in some candid moment.There was one in particular she lingered on, a photograph snapped just as Darren leaned slightly across a café table, his gaze fixed on Celeste with something that could not be mistaken for mere professionalism. The camera had caught him unguarded, eyes softened, the lines of his face less austere, almost tender.Love in the Boardroom? screamed one headline.Darren Finds Comfort in the Mysterious Celeste, declared another.Ingrid tapped her manicured nail against the bold print, her smile widening. To the public, the story had already begun to write itself. The chatter was everything she wanted, it brought Darren to the spotlight again, gave him the publicity he needed, with Celeste Hayes as the right partner.“Perfect,” she murmured, foldi