All Chapters of No Way to Win Me Back: Chapter 561 - Chapter 570

Damien’s POVI watched Celeste as she stepped further into the house, her eyes taking in the familiar space like she was measuring it against something only she could see.It had been years since she’d been here in any meaningful way, and yet she moved with a kind of quiet assurance, even as the past and present seemed to collide in the corners of the room.I stayed back a little, just enough to observe, just enough to remember what had been and what was.Atlas was on the floor, completely absorbed in his own world, cooing to himself in that way that made your chest ache with relief and pride at the same time.I wanted to smile, to let go of the tension in my shoulders, but the recent events hung over me like a dark cloud. I finally cleared my throat.“Celeste…” My voice caught slightly, and I had to repeat it, firmer this time. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Andre, Grace, Atlas… all of it. I need the full story.”She froze for a heartbeat, glancing at Atlas, who didn’t

Celeste’s POVThe house smelled like chamomile and something faintly sweet. My mother’s house had always smelled like safety.Even now, after everything I’d endured, the moment I stepped inside, I felt my shoulders drop an inch, as if my body remembered before my mind did.“Celeste,” Mum said softly, pulling me into her arms before I could even take my shoes off.I hugged her back, tightly. Not politely. Not carefully.I pressed my face into her shoulder the way I used to when I was a child, when the world felt too loud, and my father’s absence felt too big to name. Claire Grant, no, Claire Sinclair now, in all the ways that mattered, smelled like home and lavender oil and warmth.“You look thinner,” she murmured, hands smoothing over my back.“I’ve been busy,” I said, which was the most incomplete sentence I’d ever spoken.She pulled back and studied my face the way only a mother can, eyes sharp but gentle. “Come in. Sit. Tea?”“Yes,” I said immediately. “Please.”We moved into the ki

Celeste’s POVMum didn’t speak for a long time after Nicholas left.She stood at the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around her mug, staring at nothing in particular.The kettle clicked as it cooled, the house settling into its familiar evening sounds. I watched her from the table, recognizing the stillness for what it was, not shock, not grief, but calculation.Claire has always processed emotion the way a chess player studies the board several moves ahead.Finally, she exhaled through her nose.“Well,” she said, not turning around, “that was… tidy.”I raised an eyebrow. “That’s one word for it.”She turned then, leaning back against the counter. There was relief in her eyes, unmistakable and unguarded, but it was layered beneath something sharper. Skepticism. Experience-earned and unromantic.“I believe him,” she said slowly. “About the divorce. About Amelia losing her footing. Men like your father don’t lie about things like that—they dramatize them, yes, but they don’t fabricate t

Ryan’s POVMaximilian didn’t rage publicly after Celeste’s appointment.That would have been too crude. Too obvious.Instead, he did what he had always done best, he went quiet, and the quiet was lethal.I saw the first sign of it forty-eight hours after the announcement. A benign-looking email forwarded through three intermediaries landed in my secure inbox, flagged by a monitoring protocol I’d put in place years ago, back when I still believed knowing my father’s moves early might help me survive him.The subject line was harmless. Clarification Requested: Chairman Appointment.The body was poisonous.Concerns about Celeste’s “emotional fitness.” Vague references to “recent instability.” Thinly veiled insinuations about violence, trauma, and her supposed inability to lead objectively after “personal entanglements” had disrupted the industry.No names. No signatures. Just enough suggestion to rot trust if left unattended.I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.Of course this wa

Celeste’s POVThe quiet came later.Not in the boardroom, not under the chandeliers or the weight of scrutiny, but hours afterward, when the city had softened into dusk and the adrenaline finally loosened its grip on my spine.I stood alone by the window of my office at Rosemary Atelier, the lights dimmed, the worktables resting like loyal animals after a long day. For the first time since the IJA announcement went public, I allowed myself to feel it.I had survived Maximilian Edwards.Not by outmaneuvering him in secret, not by borrowing someone else’s power, not by being protected into legitimacy, but by standing where he stood and not yielding.The thought settled slowly, like warm water around cold hands. There had been moments I thought he would crush me without ever lifting a finger. That his influence would erase me quietly, efficiently, with signatures and whispers.He had tried.And still, here I was.Chairman.The word still felt unreal when I said it in my head. Not triumpha