Damien’s POVI sat in my office, my fingers tapping against the edge of my desk, a restless rhythm that matched the chaos in my head."Three more media outlets, sir,” Mark informed me. “They've been secretly tailing Mrs. Vaughn… Miss Monroe, I mean."My jaw clenched at the correction. No matter what they called her, she was still my wife. Legally. Emotionally.Mine.I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair, frustration prickling just beneath my skin. I’d given explicit instructions—no more stories, no more cameras, no more dragging her name through the mud. I thought I’d bought her peace. Apparently not.They wouldn’t stop. And I was running out of ways to protect her without standing in the spotlight myself—and dragging her deeper into this endless mess.“The reporters have been dealt with,” Mark continued. “We paid them off to keep quiet.” My head suddenly began to throb. I closed my eyes and waved him away. But I knew.Just like the rats infesting the streets of
Celeste’s POV I agreed to Damien’s request to meet, trying to sound calm while my heart beat like crazy. After ending the call, I stood there dazed in the living room, phone still in my hand, the weight of what was to come already pressing on my shoulders. It all felt surreal. Theo glanced up from the couch, concern showing on his face. “You’re going to meet with Damien?” he asked, already knowing.I nodded. “He wants to talk about the divorce.”Theo’s expression didn’t change much, but I noticed the slight tightening of his jaw. “Do you want me to come with you?”There it was—his instinct to protect. He always offered that quietly, never forcefully. And yet… I shook my head.“No. I need to go alone. I have to do this by myself, Theo.”This time, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to trouble him, or because I feared the press would twist something out of nothing. Well, maybe that too. But more than anything, I didn’t want him dragged into my mess.He had already done enough.“You’ve h
Celeste’s POV I sat there, spine straight, heart clenched in anticipation.He hadn’t picked up the pen yet. It lay there on the table between us, gleaming under the garden lights, like a sword waiting to be drawn. His eyes flicked to mine—and then, slowly, to the document.I said nothing.On the surface, I remained poised. Cold, composed, detached. But beneath that mask, a trace of nervousness coiled tight in my stomach, refusing to leave. My fingers pressed against my lap, steadying themselves, hiding the tremor that threatened to betray me.He reached for the document, paused, and let his hand hover above it. His eyes moved over the pages again slowly and deliberately. For a moment, I thought he might back out. That he would look up and say he couldn’t do it.But he didn’t.His fingers closed around the pen.And with the same calm finality that once marked the beginning of our story, Damien signed his name.The pen slowly glided across the page. There was no hesitation in his hand,
Celeste’s POVThe bar was dimly lit and the air was tinged with the stale scent of spilled whiskey and forgotten regrets. People spoke in hushed tones, but none of it registered. The world felt muted, like it was trying not to disturb me.I sat alone at the counter, the amber liquid in my glass almost all gone. It burned going down—but that was the point.Alcohol was the best anesthetic. It numbed the ache in my chest, dulled the sharp sting of memories I wasn’t ready to confront.It's over, damn it. The marriage. The façade. The illusion that maybe, just maybe, he’d come to love me.I had given everything to that man. And in return, he’d given me humiliation.My god! The betrayal and accusations... The imprisonment in that goddamn asylum like I was something to be hidden and left to suffer and rot. I’d looked down at my own trembling hands once and seen blood. My blood. A quiet scream for help no one ever heard.Back then, I promised myself—if I ever got out, I would cut him out of
Damien’s POVThe data was wrong. Again.I slammed the folder down on the boardroom table. "You had one job," I snapped, my voice cold and cutting. "And this is what you bring me? Faulty projections, incomplete charts, and a model that looks like it was thrown together by an intern?"No one dared speak. The room was thick with tension, and even the senior executives looked like they wanted to shrink into their seats.I didn’t care.Because the truth was, I wasn’t just angry about the data.I was angry about everything.The divorce. The headlines. The way she looked at me during that final meeting, like I was nothing. The way she didn’t even blink when she signed her name next to mine. Like it meant nothing.Like I meant nothing.A surge of pressure built behind my temples, my teeth grinding together while silence dragged on. Finally, I straightened and adjusted my cufflinks, dismissing them with a cold flick of my fingers."Fix it. Now."They filed out without a word, avoiding eye cont
Damien’s POVI sat in silence for a long time, the document still open on my desk, the edges curling beneath my fingers.Genevieve’s name stared back at me, bold and inarguable in transaction logs and email metadata.I couldn’t reconcile it. The woman who had stood beside me through everything and had been such a great friend—why would she involve herself in something like this? Why target Celeste?I groaned, my head swimming with confusion, my heart constricting from the rising emotions. And yet, I couldn’t just go to her—not when she had walked away with that terrifying calm, as if everything between us had meant nothing. Not when she had thrown away her ring and hadn’t looked back.But I could fix this. I could clean up the mess, silence the voices, and push back against the vultures circling her name.I can protect her. Even if she doesn’t want me to.I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting to the edge of my desk—where a photo sat half-obscured beneath a folder.Oh, Celeste…
Celeste’s POVThe reflection staring back at me in the mirror didn’t look like someone falling apart.No—she looked polished, collected. Ready for the world. But deep inside, I could feel it—the quiet flutter of nerves, the whisper of uncertainty that had followed me from the moment I zipped up the gown.This is it. My first real step back into the world.My fingers brushed down the fabric of the dress I had designed myself. Every stitch carried a piece of me—every pleat, every fold, a reminder that I had once belonged in this industry. That I had once been brilliant. That I could be brilliant again.I had sacrificed so much for Damien. And when it all came crashing down, there was nothing left of me but ashes.But ashes could be reborn.I wasn’t going to walk into that ballroom as Damien Vaughn’s ex-wife. I wasn’t going to be the scandalous woman in tabloid headlines or the poor soul people pitied.I was walking in as Celeste Monroe. Designer. Creator. Survivor.And tonight, I wasn
Celeste’s POVGasps rippled through the crowd like a stone breaking still water.For a moment, the flashes of camera phones slowed, like even the press didn’t know what to do with what they were seeing.I caught glimpses of expressions—wide eyes, parted lips, frozen smiles.“Is that her? Isn’t she the scandalous ex-wife?”“Wait, she looks... stunning. But why is she here and why is he with her?”“I hate to say it, but… damn. That dress is a showstopper. Did a designer actually choose her to debut that look?”“Why would a dress like that be lent to her?”The whispers struck like arrows, each one trying to slice through the calm I wore like armor.But I kept walking.I felt Theo beside me like a steady force. He didn’t flinch beneath the attention, didn’t falter under the weight of our spectacle.But the looks weren’t for him. They were for us.Because in the eyes of the elite, in the minds of those who only understand currency in power and status, how you arrive—and with whom—was the l
Damien's POV"Celeste, what do you mean by that?" My voice shook with an emotion I couldn’t even name.Celeste narrowed her eyes. I took a deep breath. "About that video—I admit, I acted impulsively. But didn’t you betray me first?" The words were hard to get out, each one slicing open something raw.But I didn’t stop. “I really thought you cared about me. But what happened? You slept with another man." My throat tightened. "You could’ve lied to me for money, fine—but why for him? Was I really that bad to you?""Aha." Celeste let out a cold laugh."This is exactly it. You’re always stuck in your own delusions," she snapped. "You never see the truth unless someone shoves it in your face.""Then what was I supposed to do?!" I snapped back, finally losing it."And there it is," Celeste said suddenly, her anger gone. Her voice turned flat, almost lifeless. "You still think I’m the manipulative one. The whore.""You don’t feel guilty. You just want to make yourself feel better." Her tone
Damien’s POVThe hallway outside her apartment was quiet. Celeste stood a few steps from her door. Her arms remained folded, her eyes sharp with something unreadable—wariness, maybe, or disappointment.“Why are you really here, Damien?” She said flatly. The doubt and exhaustion in her eyes broke my heart.“I’m not here to make excuses.” I said, cutting Celeste off before she could say more things I wasn’t ready to hear.It wasn't as hard as I imagined. Because it was her—facing her—the guilt in my chest made the apology flow out. I wasn’t hoping for anything in return; I just wanted her to stop looking at me with those doubtful eyes.“You deserved more. I should’ve seen you… really seen you. I failed you, Celeste. Again and again. And I’m—” I faltered, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”Not just for what happened at the boutique, but also for how I’d treated her in the past, how I had failed and neglected her many times. Over and over again. She tilted her head, brows
Damien’s POVI arrived home late, the weight of a ten-hour client negotiation still sitting squarely between my shoulders. All I wanted was a drink, a moment of silence—maybe a hot shower to rinse off the day.Instead, I stepped into the noise."The nerve of that girl! Acting like she owns the world just because she has a few designs hanging on racks! That boutique isn’t even that impressive. It's all talk!"My mother’s voice rang through the hallway, sharp and bitter. I slowed down mid-step, frowning. She was in the sitting room. And she wasn’t alone.Genevieve was seated beside her, legs crossed neatly, nodding along with a glass of red wine in her hand. She didn’t speak, but the way she leaned in, eyes lit with interest, made it clear she was encouraging every word.My mother looked up the second I stepped in. Her eyes brightened."Damien, finally! You need to talk some sense into that ridiculous woman—"She launched into her tirade without so much as a pause, not noticing how my j
Celeste’s POVIsadora’s smugness faltered, her face draining of color. The women around her started. A few even stepped away from her."You—you’re lying," she sputtered, trying to regain control. "Madam Diane would never wear such trash. She has better taste than this cheap mess you’ve draped on these hangers."But the words had barely left her mouth when a voice, cool and unmistakably elegant, cut through the tension like silk over glass."Oh? And here I thought I’d arrived early."Everyone turned.There, standing in the boutique’s entrance, was Madam Diane herself. Everyone in the business world knew better than to offend Madam Diane lightly. She was no mere socialite with a vanity title, but the wife of a senior Ministry of Finance official.She and her family have the power to make or break reputations with a few pointed words. Connections like hers didn’t just open doors—they decided who was invited in, and who was left out in the cold.Isadora turned, all pretense draining fro
Celeste’s POVI put a smile on my face and greet them, the way I always did with potential clients.But the moment Isadora saw me, her smile evaporated.Her lips tightened as if she'd bitten into something sour. I saw it all in one blink—the recognition, the shock, the disbelief. Perhaps it never crossed her mind that I could be capable of this—that the girl she used to dismiss and belittle could one day own a name worth whispering about in upper circles. She had spent so long underestimating me, she probably assumed I’d crawled away quietly after the scandal.Her brow lifted slightly, her tone dipped with something resembling confusion. "You? What are you doing here?"I smiled thinly. "Working."She relaxed a little, clearly assuming I was a retail assistant."Oh," she said with feigned pleasantness. "So you’re an employee here. Good thing they took you in despite your reputation.”"No," I said. My smile didn’t waver. "I own it."Isadora's painted-on smile cracked like a cheap mask
Celeste’s POVI stayed by Auntie’s side for hours, barely moving. Only the machines beeped in a rhythm.My phone kept vibrating on the tray beside me. I didn’t look. I didn’t need to. I already knew it was Theo.I hit "decline" without a second thought. The room dimmed, I glanced at the screen. Theo’s messages shifted from concern to desperation, each one more urgent than the last.[Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you. You suddenly disappeared from the banquet.] [Still no word from you. I’m starting to worry.][I’ve asked around. You weren’t at your place. Please tell me you’re alright.]The messages grew in urgency, but I stared at them like they belonged to someone else. All I could hear was that voice—the clipped, official tone of that man’s assistant, the man he’d been talking to with such intensity and importance. What had it been all about? Sighing, I turned toward Auntie and squeezed her hand gently, willing for her to wake up and be well. Two days passed before I
Genevieve’s POVI couldn’t think. My body had taken over. It seemed to have a mind of its own. “I love it when you’re this wet, baby,” he gruffly said as he pushed himself inside me again, diving deeper this time. I gasped, feeling his big, hard cock expanding within me, rubbing against my walls. “Ohhh.. That feels sooo good,” I whispered breathlessly. “Faster, please.” He rode me harder and faster. Wilder. “I’m the one you need, Genevieve,” he said in between his raspy breaths. “I’m the one you should desire. Damien doesn’t deserve your attention.”My eyes widened. I wanted to respond, but then, he rammed into me, making me scream a little bit, both in surprise and pleasure and pain, all wrapped into one. Again, my mind went blank. He didn’t let up until he’d reached his climax right after mine. And afterwards, we lay there spent. I was sprawled on the bed, naked in his arms, catching my breath. “So, are you still living alone in that apartment of yours?” he suddenly asked.
Genevieve’s POVI whispered to the empty room, "You’ll regret walking away from me and wanting to send me away, Damien."The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of his footsteps lingered like a slap to my face.I slammed my glass onto the table. The shatter echoed through the pristine apartment, shards of crystal flying across the floor."Damn it!" I choked out, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself.All that work. All that effort. And for what?To watch Celeste Monroe crawl out of the ashes again? To watch Damien—the man I held onto for years—look at her like she was the only star in his sky?My hands trembled. Not from weakness, but from rage."Why?" I whispered, staring at my reflection in the glass. "Why does she always win?"We were both orphans. Both unwanted girls clawing our way through a cruel world.So why does she get to have the fairy tale?Even after I was chosen. Even after the Lancaster family claimed me, dressed me in silk and diamonds—Celeste still
Damien’s POV“You don’t get to care now.”Her painful words cut deeper than I expected. Her quiet voice—with that tone of finality—played over and over in my mind.I sat heavily on the hallway bench just outside the restroom. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she left, but now it felt like it had finally cracked wide open.“I loved you. God help me, I did. And you made me regret every second of it,” she had uttered so coldly. I’d never been the kind of man who let emotion control me. Not in boardrooms. Not in public. Not even in private. But right now? I felt like someone had hollowed me out from the inside.My mind kept going back to that night when she’d called me from the asylum. Her voice, frantic on the other end of the line, and me… shutting it off. Shutting her off.I thought she was trying to manipulate me. Just throwing another tantrum. But she wasn’t. What did I miss? What really happened to her there?I sighed, the massive burden and pain of all my mistakes suddenly