บททั้งหมดของ No Way to Win Me Back: บทที่ 421 - บทที่ 430

Damien’s POVI had always believed fear announced itself loudly, in the form of sweaty palms, racing heart, the kind of panic that knocked the air from your lungs. I was wrong. Real fear crept in quietly. It sat in the chest and stayed there, heavy and immovable, like a stone you learned to breathe around.Vanessa being called in for questioning did that to me.She didn’t tell me outright. I heard it from a third party first, a careless mention dressed up as concern. Routine questioning, they said. Nothing serious, they added, the way people always did when they knew it was serious.By the time I got home, my mind had already built a hundred different endings, none of them good.Vanessa was in the living room, pacing, phone pressed to her ear, heels discarded like she’d kicked them off in frustration. She didn’t look at me when I walked in. She didn’t need to. She knew I’d heard.When she hung up, I cleared my throat. “I heard you were questioned today.”Her head snapped toward me, eye

Celeste’s POVI took Molly to my mother’s because I needed quiet in a way that sleep didn’t fix. The kind of quiet that came from routine, familiar walls, familiar furniture, the illusion that some things in my life hadn’t shifted on their axes.Molly chatted the entire drive, telling me about a drawing she’d made at school and how she wanted Nana to see it immediately, preferably before lunch, because it had glitter and apparently glitter waited for no one.When we pulled up outside my mother’s house, the first thing I noticed was the stillness.No lights on. No sound from inside. No shadow moving behind the curtains.“That’s weird,” I murmured, more to myself than to Molly.“What’s weird?” she asked, already unbuckling herself.“Mom’s usually home by now.”“Maybe she’s sleeping,” Molly said confidently, as if that settled it.Mom was nothing if not punctual where Molly was concerned.I knocked anyway. Once. Twice. Then I checked my phone. No missed calls. No messages. A flicker of un

Celeste’s POVThe moment Grace said the words, I felt something inside me unclench.“I’m coming back,” she said, standing in my office like she’d never left it in the first place. Arms crossed. Chin lifted. Pixie cut slightly longer than when she’d walked out. “As COO. If you’ll have me.”I didn’t answer right away because my body reacted before my mind did. My shoulders dropped. My chest loosened. My fingers, which had been clenched around a pen so tightly it hurt, finally relaxed.I stood and hugged her.It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t tearful. It was the kind of hug you give someone who knows exactly how much weight you’ve been carrying and doesn’t need you to explain it.“I need you,” I said into her shoulder, my voice betraying me despite my best efforts.“I know,” she replied simply. “That’s why I’m here.”When we pulled apart, she looked… steadier. Not healed. Grace never came back healed from anything, but anchored. Like she’d finally chosen solid ground over running.We sat down

Celeste’s POVI woke up slowly, the kind of waking that didn’t tear me out of sleep but eased me out of it, like surf retreating from the shore. Light spilled across the ceiling in pale gold bands, filtered through glass walls and the city haze beyond them. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.Then I felt warmth at my back. A steady breath. An arm draped over my waist like it had always belonged there.Ryan.The realization settled into me softly, not sharp, not startling, just right. I lay still for a few seconds, listening to the quiet hum of the penthouse, the distant city noise muted to a suggestion rather than a demand.His chest rose and fell behind me, solid and calm, and something in my ribs loosened.I slipped out of bed carefully, unwilling to wake him, and padded across the cool floor toward the kitchen. The space felt different in the morning. Less dramatic. More lived-in. A half-empty glass of water on the counter. His watch beside it. The faint smell of coffee gro

Celeste’s POVI had taken Molly out for ice cream because the day had been too quiet in a way that made my skin itch.Too many thoughts. Too much waiting. Too many things that felt like they were lining up behind my back, whispering.The ice cream was simple. Safe. Pistachio for me, because I was tired and a little sad and pretending I wasn’t. Chocolate for Molly, because she insisted it made her “think better,” which I suspected was something Grace had said once and she’d adopted as fact.We sat outside the little place on Seventh, the one with the striped awning and the chalkboard sign that always smelled faintly of sugar and espresso. Molly swung her legs as she ate, humming to herself, chocolate already smeared on the corner of her mouth.“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” she said, peering up at me with unnerving accuracy.“I always think too hard,” I replied, smiling faintly as I wiped her face with a napkin.“That’s why Uncle Ryan says you make the best decisions,” she sa