All Chapters of No Way to Win Me Back: Chapter 431 - Chapter 440

595 Chapters

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-One

Celeste’s POVMy heart felt heavier the entire drive to my mother’s house, like the secret of the café had lodged itself somewhere beneath my ribs and refused to move.The city blurred past my windows, every red light another opportunity to turn around and pretend I hadn’t seen anything at all. Pretend I hadn’t watched him sit across from my mother at a small table like he still had the right.Nicholas Grant.My father.The man who had left us to build a new family with another woman, while my mother and I learned how to survive the wreckage he left behind.By the time I pulled into her driveway, my hands were trembling on the steering wheel. I sat there longer than necessary, breathing in and out, rehearsing words I wasn’t sure I’d ever say. Accusations. Questions. The kind of truth that didn’t come without collateral damage.I finally forced myself out of the car.The gate to her garden was open. That alone startled me. My mother had always been meticulous, orderly to a fault, as if

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Two

Damien’s POVI walked into the Aurelius Ventures boardroom with my spine straight and my mind razor-sharp, the way it used to be before everything went to hell.My palms were dry. That alone told me something had shifted.Months ago, I would have been sweating through my cuffs, rehearsing apologies I didn’t owe, hoping someone, Vanessa, Henry, anyone, would throw me a rope.Today, I didn’t need one. This wasn’t a favor. This wasn’t charity. These were my former clients, people I had once built an empire with, back when Imperial Aurium Group still meant something because I stood behind it.Aurelius Ventures.They had money, yes, but more importantly, they had taste. And taste was something you couldn’t fake your way through.The CEO, Laurent Voss, sat at the head of the table, silver hair immaculate, expression unreadable. He’d been younger when we first worked together, sharper at the edges, more reckless.Time had polished him, not dulled him. I respected that. Around him sat his boar

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Three

Celeste’s POVI couldn’t get my mind away from the thoughts of Mom and Nicholas.I didn’t want to call that man my father. Except for the DNA, he had given me nothing, done nothing for me.Seeing my Mom so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart to say anything.But I could do one thing.I drove to Nicholas Grant’s office without thinking myself out of it. That was the only way it worked, if I let myself hesitate, guilt and doubt would talk me into staying quiet, into being reasonable. Reasonable had cost us too much already.His building rose out of the city like a monument to reinvention. I parked, slammed the door harder than necessary, and walked in like I belonged there.The secretary barely looked up before I was past her.“Miss, you can’t—”“I can,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through her protest. I didn’t slow down. I didn’t look back.Nicholas Grant’s name was etched onto the door in brushed metal.I pushed the door open.He looked up from his desk, pen still in hand, mid-t

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Four

Celeste’s POVI made it three steps into the sunlight before I heard my name.“Celeste.”His voice followed me out of the building like something unfinished. I kept walking, heels striking the pavement harder than necessary, my pulse still loud in my ears. I had said what I came to say. I had drawn the line. Whatever absolution Nicholas Grant was searching for, he would have to find it without me.“Celeste, please.”I stopped.Not because I wanted to. Because some reflex from childhood still hadn’t learned how to let go.I turned slowly. He stood a few feet behind me, jacket draped over his arm, his expression stripped of the corporate polish he wore upstairs. Out here, in open air and unforgiving light, he looked like a man who had followed someone he couldn’t afford to lose again.“I’m done,” I said flatly. “You don’t get to chase me now.”“I’m not chasing,” he replied. “I’m explaining.”“You had more than 25 years to do that.”He flinched, but nodded. “I know.”We stood there, the c

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Five

Celeste’s POVBy the time I made it back to Rosemary Atelier, the building felt like the only place that could hold me together.The studio lights were still on despite the late hour, casting long, familiar shadows across worktables and sketch boards.The scent of metal, polishing compound, and something faintly floral wrapped around me the moment I stepped inside. It was grounding in the way routine always was, proof that some things still existed exactly where I’d left them.Ryan was there.He stood at the central table, sleeves rolled up, studying a half-finished piece like it had personally offended him. His brow furrowed in concentration, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. For one irrational second, I considered turning around and walking back out. He looked too steady. Too calm. I was afraid I’d unravel the moment he looked at me.But he did look up.And the second his eyes met mine, everything in my chest gave way.“Hey,” he said immediately, straightening. “What happened

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Six

Vanessa’s POVThe air at the firm had turned cold long before Maximilian called me into his office.It was the kind of cold that didn’t announce itself loudly. No whispers stopped when I entered a room. No one avoided my gaze outright. It was worse than that, people became efficient. Polite. Distant. Emails grew shorter. Doors closed just a second too quickly. Smiles didn’t reach eyes anymore.I had built my career here on being indispensable. On knowing when to lean in and when to disappear. On understanding power as something fluid, something you redirected rather than challenged.And yet, as I walked down the corridor toward Maximilian Edwards’s private office, I understood with perfect clarity that the current had shifted.His secretary wouldn’t meet my eyes when she opened the door.Maximilian stood by the window when I entered, his back to me, hands clasped behind him. The city stretched out below like a kingdom he owned outright. He didn’t turn immediately. That alone told me ev

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Seven

Officer Raymond’s POVI became a shadow long before I became a threat.That’s how investigations like this start, not with confrontation, not with arrests, but with presence.You watch patterns, you trace habits, you let the evidence lead you, and then you close the circle.People like Vanessa Abrams noticed the noise first, the headlines, the inquiries, but they never noticed the quiet man who appeared consistently, not by chance, but by calculation.I had learned early in my career that dismantling someone like her wasn’t about theatrics. It was about precision, patience, and persistence. You chip away at the inconsistencies, the half-truths, the defenses, until there’s nowhere left to hide.I mapped her routines with care, tracked every call, every movement, every unusual contact. Burner phones rotated. Messages went through intermediaries. She moved fast enough to feel untouchable. But patterns have a way of revealing intent.A ping at 2:17 a.m., a repeated connection between her a

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Eight

Vanessa’s POVThe house felt wrong the moment I stepped inside.Not quiet, charged. Like the air had learned how to hold its breath.I closed the door softly behind me, out of habit more than care, and stood there for a second with my hand still on the handle. The smell of detergent and something faintly sweet, baby lotion, clung to the hallway. It was domestic. Intimate. Mocking.This place had never really been mine. I had curated it, occupied it, bent it to my image. But homes know the difference between possession and belonging.Bonnie was sitting on the stairs.She didn’t say anything. She just watched me.Children always knew before adults did. They felt endings like animals sensed storms. Her eyes, too old for her age, too observant, tracked every step I took as I walked past her.“You’re home early,” she said.Not a question.“Yes,” I replied, slipping off my heels. My voice sounded steady to my own ears. Professional. Controlled. “Where’s your father?”She shrugged. “Work.”Of

Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Nine

Damien’s POVThe first flash of blue cut across the nursery wall like a blade.At first, I thought it was an ambulance, some irrational fear latching onto Atlas before logic could intervene. I was already on my feet when the red followed, turning the soft cream walls violent.“What the hell…?” I muttered.Atlas had been making too much noise, but he was quiet now.I was grateful for that because the pit in my stomach kept on deepening.I jumped when the knock came.Vanessa appeared behind me, already composed, already dressed as if she’d been waiting. She took in the lights, the tension, my expression, catalogued it all in one swift glance.“They’re here,” she said calmly.“For what?” My voice sounded too loud in the nursery, too rough against the quiet breathing of our son.She didn’t answer.The second knock was louder. Final.I handed Atlas to the nanny with hands that suddenly felt unfamiliar, clumsy. My chest tightened as I stepped into the hallway, my mind scrambling to assemble

Chapter Four Hundred and Forty

Celeste’s POVThe living room felt unnaturally quiet, like it was holding its breath with me.I sat curled into the corner of the couch, knees tucked beneath me, the weight of the last few weeks finally loosening its grip just enough for me to breathe.Ryan sat beside me, close but not crowding, one arm draped along the backrest behind my shoulders. The television murmured in front of us, the news cycle looping images of flashing lights, courthouse steps, and Vanessa’s face, composed, defiant, unforgettable.“Vanessa Abrams Arrested in Ongoing Corporate Espionage Case,” the anchor said, voice grave with performative seriousness.I exhaled slowly.Officer Raymond had called me an hour earlier. A courtesy, he’d said. Professional, calm, thorough. He’d told me they had enough. That she wouldn’t slip away this time. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding myself together until the call ended and my hands started shaking.Now, sitting here with Ryan, his thumb absentmindedly brushing

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