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Five
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2026-04-13 19:26:40Celeste's POV
I followed his every move, until he walked past me into the long hallway. After which, I slowly moved to the guest suite, a sanctuary carved out of cold stone and expensive silk. The door groaned softly as I pushed it open, the weight of the white lace gown trailing behind. I expected silence, but as I stepped into the room, two figures rose instantly from the sofas near the window.They were dressed in sharp, minimalist charcoal uniforms, their hair pulled back so tightly it made my own scalp ache in sympathy.
"Welcome, Mrs. Chen," they said in perfect unison, bowing their heads so low I could only see the tops of their polished buns.
I flinched, the title hitting me like a physical slap. "Please, don't do that," I rasped, "And don't call me that. My name is Celeste."
The woman on the left, who looked a few years older with eyes that held a hint of practiced kindness, lifted her head but kept her hands clasped firmly in front of her. "We cannot do that, Madam. Mr. Chen was very specific about the protocols of this household… you are the mistress of the penthouse. To show you anything less than absolute respect would be a slight against the Chen name itself."
"Protocols," I muttered, moving further into the room. The space was beautiful and sleek, but it lacked a single soul. "I’ve spent seven years being a maid, I don't need people bowing to me."
"You are no longer a maid, Mrs. Chen," the second woman said, her voice soft but firm. "I am Sarah, and this is Elena. We are here to ensure your comfort. Please, allow us."
Before I could protest again, they moved with silent efficiency. Sarah reached for the heavy zipper at the back of my dress, her fingers quick, while Elena moved toward the massive marble bathroom, the sound of rushing water soon filling the air.
As the white lace fell away, pooling around my feet like a shed skin, I felt a strange sense of nakedness that had nothing to do with my clothes. I was being handled like a delicate piece of fortune… the very accessory Damien said I was.They led me into the bathroom, where a sunken tub was already steaming, scented with something deep and earthy… It wasn't the flowery, cheap soap I was used to at the Harrington mansion. This was the scent of smelling money.
"We will leave you to soak, Madam," Sarah said, placing a thick, silk robe on the heated towel rack. "The Chef has been notified, dinner will be served in thirty minutes in the formal dining room. Mr. Chen is expecting you.""Expecting me?" I asked, sinking into the water. It was so hot it stung, but it felt good against my aching muscles. "He told me to stay out of his way."
"Mr. Chen values punctuality above everything else," was all she said before they both bowed and retreated, closing the heavy glass doors behind them.
I sat in the silence, the steam rising around me. My mind kept replaying the way Damien had gripped my hair, the heat of his breath, the coldness of his threat. He was a man made of contradictions… he wanted me invisible, yet he demanded I be his perfect public shadow.
I washed the remnants of the Harrington shame off my skin, scrubbing until my flesh was pink. When I finally stepped out and wrapped myself in the charcoal silk robe, I looked in the mirror. Without the diamonds and the heavy makeup, I just looked like Celeste again. Pale, tired, but with a flicker of defiance still burning in my hazel eyes.
I walked back into the bedroom, where a pair of simple silk slides waited for me. I didn't bother with makeup. I didn't bother with jewelry. If he wanted a tool, he would get the sharpest, plainest version of it.
I made my way down the long, gallery-like hallway toward the dining area. The penthouse was even more intimidating at night. The city lights outside acted as the only wallpaper, glowing neon blues and oranges reflecting off the polished black floors.
As I walked toward the dining room… a large space with a table made of expensive material at its center, I stopped.
The sound of a voice drifted through the air. It wasn't the growl Damien used with me, It was lower, smoother, almost… intimate.
"I told you, I’ll be there by the weekend," Damien was saying. I stayed in the shadows of a large bronze statue, my heart skipping a beat. "The merger is signed, rhe girl is handled. She’s exactly what I expected… quiet and compliant."
There was a pause, and then a low, rumbling chuckle that made my stomach flip in a way it shouldn't have."I know, I know," he murmured, his voice softening even further. "I miss the way you handle things, too. Just wait for me. I’ll make it worth the delay."
The girl is handled, quiet, and compliant.
A cold, sharp stone settled in my chest. I wasn't sure why it hurt. I knew this marriage was a sham, he probably had a dozen women who actually knew the man behind the suit. But hearing him dismiss me like a task he had crossed off a list, all while whispering sweet promises to someone else, felt like a fresh bruise on top of an old one.I took a deep breath, straightened my robe, and stepped out of the shadows. My silk slides made no sound on the floor, but Damien’s predatory instincts were as sharp as ever. He didn't jump, or even look startled. He simply lowered the phone, his thumb sliding across the screen to end the call, and his expression shifted back to the frozen slate I had come to expect.
"You're late," he said, pulling out a chair at the head of the table. He was already seated, a bottle of dark red wine breathing in the center of the obsidian.
"I was under the impression I was a guest," I said, my voice cold as I took the seat at the opposite end, several feet of black stone separating us. "Guests don't usually have to punch a time clock."He ignored the remark, gesturing to the Chef who appeared with two plates of seared sea bass and roasted vegetables. The food looked like art, but the atmosphere made it tasteless in my mouth.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. All I could hear was the clink of silver cutleries against the breakable plates, and the distant hum of the city. My mind kept drifting back to that voice on the phone. I miss you.
"Who was she?" I asked suddenly. The question escaped before I could pull it back.Damien stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. He didn't look up, but I saw his jaw clench. "Excuse me?"
"The person on the phone," I said, trying to sound indifferent, though my fingers were white from gripping my napkin under the table. "You seemed… busy. If I’m interrupting your romantic life, perhaps we should set a schedule for these mandatory dinners."
Damien slowly lowered his fork, looked at me then, his eyes dark and unreadable under the dim glow of the chandelier. "Eat your dinner, Celeste," he said, his voice flat.
"Is she the one you’ll 'decide what to do with me' with?" I pushed, the fire he had tried to extinguish earlier flared up again. "Does she know you married a maid just to help a man you probably hate? Or does she just enjoy the jewelry you buy her?”
Latest chapter
Unwanted Bride Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: The Island of Lost SoulsThe roar of the speedboat faded into the rhythmic thrash of the Caribbean Sea, leaving the villa in a suffocating silence. Damien stayed by the shattered window, his silhouette dark against the moonlight like a gargoyle."She’s heading for the North Sound," he said, lowering his scope. "There’s a private marina in the mangroves. If she reaches the Architect’s transport, she vanishes into the radar shadows of the reef."I helped Howard to a chair, my hands shaking. He looked at me, and the hollow fog in his eyes finally lifted. He reached out, his thumb brushing a smudge of ash from my cheek."I let them take you," he whispered. "I spent twenty years convincing myself you were a dream I had during the war.""I wasn't a dream, Dad," I said, leaning my forehead against his knee. "I was the girl who remembered your voice every time the attic got too cold.""We don't have time for the past," Damien interrupted. He wasn't being cruel; he was bei
Unwanted Bride Twenty Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Mirror’s LieThe words hit me harder than the blast at the Chen Tower. To hear my own father—the man who was supposed to be my sanctuary—dismiss me as a mercenary was a cruelty I hadn't prepared for. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and suspicion, his protective arm draped around Vivienne."I’m not a mercenary, Howard," I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady. "Look at me. Really look at me.""Don't listen to her, Dad," Vivienne hissed, her eyes darting toward the laptop on the table. the transfer bar was at ninety percent. "She’s a master of manipulation. Silas trained her to mimic the family. He wanted a backup heir in case I didn't cooperate."Howard stepped forward, his eyes searching my face. For a fleeting second, I saw a spark of recognition—a shadow of a memory of a woman named Rose—but then his gaze hardened. "You have the eyes," he whispered. "But the woman I loved was kind. She wouldn't come into a home with a threat on
Unwanted Bride Twenty Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The Cayman ConnectionThe photo on the screen felt like a physical blow to the stomach. The real Howard Harrington was alive. Not the mercenary with the fake wrist scar, and not the coward who had let me rot in the attic—but the man my mother had actually loved. And he was standing beside the sister who had just tried to incinerate me."She didn't save him," I whispered, my fingers trembling as I zoomed in on the grainy image. "She hijacked him."Damien leaned over my shoulder, his warmth a sharp contrast to the cold calculation in his eyes. "Vivienne didn't blow up the tower just to destroy the evidence, Celeste. She did it to create a distraction large enough to move a high-value asset out of the country. She didn't want the empire. She wanted the man who holds the keys to the Vane Estate’s offshore vaults.""But why would he be with her?" I asked, looking at Howard’s face. He looked older, gaunt, but there was a fierce protectiveness in the way he stood near V
Unwanted Bride Twenty Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Boardroom BloodbathThe Harrington Flagship Hotel didn’t look like a place that had survived a revolution. The gold-plated doors still spun with that rhythmic, expensive hush, and the marble floors were so polished they mirrored the anxiety on the faces of the staff. But the air was different. The "Executioner’s Wife" was dead, and the "Unwanted Daughter" had vanished.I stepped into the lobby at 11:55 AM.I wasn't wearing silk. I was wearing a structured, charcoal-gray power suit that fit like a second skin, with a white silk shirt buttoned to the throat. My hair wasn't in a maid's bun or a bride's waves; it was pulled back into a sleek, lethal ponytail. Beside me, Damien walked in a black tailored suit, his presence acting as the silent muscle to my growing storm."They're in Boardroom A," Marcus, the doorman, whispered as I passed. He didn't just open the door; he bowed."Thank you, Marcus," I said, not stopping. "Make sure the coffee they’re drinking is the
Unwanted Bride Twenty one
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Morning After the FireThe sun didn't rise over the Potomac with a sense of peace; it rose with a harsh, judgmental glare that exposed every crack in the marble and every drop of blood in the grass.I sat on the bumper of Sarah’s car, a thermal blanket draped over my obsidian-shattered dress. My father—Julian—was asleep in the backseat, his hand still twitching in his sleep as if he were trying to ward off ghosts. Damien stood a few yards away, talking to a man in a dark suit who didn't look like a fed. He looked like an asset."You're thinking about the phone call," Damien said, walking toward me. He didn't look like a billionaire anymore. He looked like a man who had been through a war and realized he liked the smell of smoke."The Architect didn't sound defeated, Damien," I said, looking at my hands. The cuts from the obsidian were starting to throb. "She sounded like she was giving me a graduation speech."Damien sat beside me, the weight of his body a grou
Unwanted Bride Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY: The Reckoning at the PotomacThe silence in the East Wing was deafening, a sharp contrast to the chaos erupting in the ballroom behind me. The live broadcast had turned the Sterling Estate from a palace into a crime scene. President Sterling’s ivory smile had finally shattered, and the world was watching the pieces fall.I reached Damien, my hands trembling as I helped him to his feet. His tactical gear was shredded, and his breathing was shallow, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed. He looked at the obsidian shards embedded in my palms—the cost of my small, violent rebellion against the terminal."You broke the broadcast loop," he rasped, leaning his weight against me. "You didn't just open the door, Celeste. You tore the roof off the whole house.""The Architect wanted to rule the ruins," I said, my voice sounding like cold stone. "I decided to make sure there was nothing left to rule."We moved toward the ballroom, the sound of the crowd rising into a panicked ro
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