All Chapters of No Way to Win Me Back: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

Ryan’s POVThe guy’s name was Adrian Valder, that should’ve been my first warning.Even his name sounded like it belonged on the cover of some glossy design magazine, beside headlines like “The Visionary Artisan Behind the Revival of Portuguese Gem Cuts.”He was good-looking in that effortless, I-work-with-my-hands-and-know-it kind of way.Sharp cheekbones, dark blond hair, and a trimmed beard that probably took more effort than he’d ever admit.When Celeste introduced him, her tone carried that rare lilt, the one she reserved for people she actually admired.“Ryan,” she said, her hand gesturing between us. “This is Adrian Valder. He specializes in high-fracture stones, worked with the Paraiba mines in Brazil before they shut down.”Adrian’s handshake was firm. “You must be Ryan Edwards, the Crown Luxe’s spare heir. I’ve seen your sketches and I’ve got to say, you have precision.”He said it with a warm but calculated kind of smile, like he was trying to see how much I was a part of th

Celeste’s POVI sat by the window in the plane, forehead resting against the cold glass, watching the night dissolve beneath us..Somewhere below all that darkness was Belgium.Somewhere in that small hospital bed, Molly was burning up.Ryan hadn’t said much since takeoff.He sat beside me, elbows on his knees, fingers knotted loosely together.Every few minutes, I’d catch him glancing at his phone checking up if Vivian had given any updates.I’d tried to bury myself in sketches, notes for the competition, the half-finished Paraiba design folded neatly inside my sketchbook.But every time I opened it, the soft glow of that rare turquoise-blue stone haunted me.It was supposed to represent “rebirth.”I couldn’t stop thinking about Molly, her laughter, her tiny hands stained with watercolor paLife had felt brighter with her in it.I closed the sketchbook. “We’re missing the presentation round tomorrow.”Ryan turned slightly, his eyes finding mine in the dim cabin light. “Rachel will man

Celeste’s POVVivian and Steven’s house sat on the edge of Antwerp.Molly had recovered enough to sit up and chatter again, but I could still see the shadows under her eyes when she tired.We’d stayed longer than planned, partly because I refused to leave her until she was fully well, partly because Ryan didn’t want to as well.That afternoon, the rain returned.Steven sat across from me in the living room, looking uncharacteristically unsure.Vivian lingered near the window, twisting her wedding ring in slow, anxious circles before she came to sit beside Steven.“Celeste,” Steven began, voice strained, “we need to ask you for something. Something big.”Vivian’s hands trembled slightly as she set her teacup down.“Celeste,” she began softly, her voice thin with exhaustion, “we need to talk to you about Molly.”Something in her tone made my heart clench.I glanced at Ryan, who was sitting beside me on the couch, his hand loosely wrapped around his coffee mug.His expression had turned c

Celeste’s POVMolly sat cross-legged on the rug beside my desk, a box of colored pencils scattered around her.Her tongue poked out in concentration as she tried to copy one of Ryan’s sketches from the wall, a little bird perched on a gemstone.She had insisted on coming with me to the studio that morning, and though Grace had raised an eyebrow, I’d stood firm.“She’s been through too much,” I’d said. “Let her stay close until she’s ready for school again.”Now, watching her hum softly under her breath, I knew I’d made the right choice.The sparkle in her eyes was faint but alive again.I turned back to my workbench, where the Paraiba tourmaline lay under the light, that impossible blue-green, like a drop of the ocean frozen in crystal.Beautiful, yes. But fractured. The internal inclusions caught the light unevenly, scattering it like broken glass.I exhaled, leaning back. “It’s fighting me again.”Ryan looked up from across the table, where he was polishing a silver frame.“You say t

Celeste’s POVThe rain had been falling for hours against the glass walls of the studio.Most of the team had gone home.Ryan was still here, sketching something under the warm pool of lamplight.I should’ve told him to leave hours ago, but neither of us said it out loud.“I didn’t realize how late it was,” I murmured, rubbing my temple. The clock on the far wall blinked 12:47 a.m.“You never do,” he said without looking up, pencil moving in easy strokes. “That’s your thing.”I smiled faintly. “And what’s your thing?”He looked up then, eyes green and amused. “Staying to make sure you don’t forget to eat. Or sleep. Or breathe.”I let out a soft laugh.Something in his tone, quiet but firm, made me look away.The rain hit harder now, a rhythmic tapping that seemed to sync with the pulse in my throat.I traced the rim of my coffee mug, half-empty and cold. “Do you ever get tired of this?”He tilted his head. “Of what?”“Of… holding everything together,” I said softly. “Trying so hard to