All Chapters of No Way to Win Me Back: Chapter 331 - Chapter 340

Celeste’s POVI buried myself in work.It wasn’t intentional at first. It was just easier to stare at sketches, fabric swatches, gemstone charts, and endless emails than to think about Nicholas Grant, or my mother going silent for days, or the strange hollow in my chest every time I remembered her voice trembling.Work had logic. Emotions didn’t.So I arrived early, stayed late, and ignored the way Rachel kept glancing at me like she was waiting for me to fall apart.“Another late night?” she asked when I pushed open the office door. She didn’t say it with judgment, just quiet worry.“Just tying up loose ends,” I said, slipping past her even though the only thing I was tying was myself into knots. “Any updates on the Beaumont collaboration?”Her eyes flicked toward Ryan’s desk. “We’ll talk when he joins.”Right. Because Ryan had made it his full-time mission to intercept anything that looked remotely stressful and steal it off my plate.So far, I had pretended not to notice. If I admi

Celeste’s POVI should have felt guilty.Snooping through an employee file wasn’t exactly ethical, not something a CEO should do.But I wasn’t doing this as a CEO, I was doing this as Grace’s friend.Or whatever version of that still existed between us.And Gideon… he had been too cheerful lately.So when I sent him to deal with a shipment error, one I could’ve easily handled myself, I waited until he left the studio, then slipped into HR’s office and pulled his file.His address was listed on a small, wrinkled piece of paper. No emergency contacts. No details about Grace. Nothing that connected the two of them except my intuition screaming that something was wrong.I drove there before I could talk myself out of it.The building was worse than I expected.Peeling paint, the faint smell of dust and mold bleeding into the hallway, flickering lights that looked like they were seconds away from giving up.The kind of place people stayed when they were hiding, or broke, or scared.Grace ha

Celeste’s POVThe letter didn’t stand out at first.It was buried between a utility bill, an ad for a cleaning service I didn’t remember signing up for, and the usual stack of catalogues that somehow kept finding their way to my mailbox.I was only half paying attention, sipping lukewarm coffee, Molly humming at the counter as she drew something with bright pink crayons.But then the envelope slid out.Cream paper. No return address. Just my name typed neatly.Celeste Sinclair.Something cold curled in my stomach.I opened it without thinking. A single sheet slipped out, folded once down the middle. No decoration. No greeting. Just words that hit me like the crack of a whip.If you don’t want people to find out about your biological father, you will come to the private room at Westshore Panorama Hall, 6th floor.Tomorrow. 7 p.m.Do not tell anyone.If you do, the story goes to the media. They’ll know you won the competition through nepotism. — M.E.For a second, the letters blurred.B

Celeste’s POVI didn’t sleep. I don’t even think I blinked. I laid there in the dark, sheets twisted around my legs, breath trapped somewhere between my ribs, replaying Maximilian’s voice like a looping curseI couldn’t shut off.Leave Ryan and Molly, or he’ll reveal all about my father. And that would lead to disasters I didn’t even want to imagine.My father. My past. The one thing I’ve lived my entire adult life trying to protect, trying to preserve with dignity. And Maximilian had said it with such carelessness, as if tearing apart two lives, three lives, was just a matter of preference.My alarm went off, but it wasn’t the sound that pulled me upright.Dread was coating every thought before it could even form.I dragged myself out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, and tried to pretend I still lived in the world I had inhabited yesterday, a world where Ryan’s smile steadied me, where Molly’s laughter softened every cracked part of me, where Rosemary thrived, and Grace was onl

Celeste’s POVI stood outside Grace’s and Gideon’s apartment door for a moment longer than necessary, tightening my grip on the care basket before knocking.The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and someone’s late dinner, but none of it grounded me. But this visit wasn’t about him.It was about Grace.And the basket in my arms, carefully packed with herbal teas for nausea, crackers, prenatal vitamins Rachel had sworn were the best, and two soft sweaters in colors Grace always gravitated toward, was the only way I knew how to show her I was here.That she wasn’t alone. That I hadn’t forgotten her even while drowning in my own problems.I knocked gently. “Grace? It’s me.”There was a delay, too long for someone simply getting up from the couch. Then the lock clicked, and the door opened.She stood there in sweats and an oversized shirt, her pixie-cut hair pushed back unevenly like she’d been shoving her fingers through it all day. She attempted a smile.“You didn’t have to bring anyt