Celeste’s POV"Celeste!"The sound of my name, spoken in that voice, sent a shudder through me.Theo Mercer.For a second, I could only stare, unable to process it. God, it had been so long since I’d last seen him.He had changed. Sharper. Stronger. The confident posture, the controlled intensity in his gaze—it was different from the young man I once knew.But one thing hadn’t changed.The way he looked at me.“How are you?” His voice was gentle, but full of concern. “You look pale…” “Uh, I…” I began to answer. But no other words came out. I honestly didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps I was still in shock. How was I?I had been beaten, drugged, abandoned, and left to rot in a place that wanted me erased. And what brought me here in the first place were the two people I trusted and cared about — my husband and best friend. Those traitors. And yet, I was still here.I forced a tight, unreadable smile. “I’ve been better.”Theo’s expression darkened. He came forward and took my hand i
Celeste’s POVTheo’s arm was still wrapped around me, steadying me against him. His grip was firm but careful, as if I might break apart if he let go.I was extremely grateful that he was here for me, with me. I always knew I could depend on him. But now, while my husband watched us, I felt Theo's arms holding me even tighter. The air became subtle.My heart pounded wildly as Damien strode forward, his eyes sharp with a kind of fury that I had never seen from him before. Wait, is that… jealousy?A bitter laugh almost escaped me, but I swallowed it down. Don’t be stupid, Celeste! Damien Vaughn— jealous? No, that’s impossible. I had to be losing my mind. I must have imagined it. More likely, it was frustration—anger at being defied. But the rage radiating off him was almost tangible, thickening the air between us.His gaze darkened the moment he saw Theo holding me up. Then, his lips curled into a cruel sneer.“Celeste, how many lovers do you have?” he suddenly blurted out, fuming. “O
Celeste’s POV"It's none of your business."The words flew out of my mouth, sharp and unfiltered, as I yanked my wrist free from his grasp.Damien’s eyes darkened, his fingers twitching slightly, as if resisting the urge to reach for me again. He was momentarily taken aback, just standing there without moving. It was hard to read the expression on his face. He was obviously shocked. Perhaps because he never expected me to fight back like this. Well, it didn’t matter. I simply didn’t care anymore. I turned on my heel and stepped into the hospital, leaving him behind without a second glance.I could feel it—his presence lingering like a ghost, his stare burning into my back.But I didn’t look back. Although I appeared indifferent on the surface, the turmoil within me was far more intense.I let out a slow breath, willing my heart to calm down, to stop feeling anything for him. This was necessary, after all. I had spent too long chasing after Damien Vaughn, too long drowning in love
Damien’s POV"I agree to the divorce."Her words echoed in my mind, filling me with unexpected dread and shock. She had said it with finality, with certainty, as if there was nothing left between us.For a moment, I simply stared at her, waiting—expecting—for the real Celeste to appear. Surely, she’ll take it back.She had to.This was just a test, a reaction, a desperate attempt to get my attention.I waited. But she didn’t falter.She just stood there, chin lifted, back straight, fire burning behind her eyes.For the first time in a long time, she didn’t look like the Celeste who used to chase after me, worship me, and do everything in her power to please me.It was then that I felt something unpleasant beginning to form in my chest. I should have felt relieved. I had wanted this. Hadn’t I?But instead, an unfamiliar tightness gripped my throat—anger, confusion—an increasing discomfort that refused to go away. My fingers twitched at my side, a restless energy rising inside me. Why d
Celeste’s POVThe seatbelt pressed against my chest, but it wasn’t what was making it hard to breathe.I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my hands on my lap, but my mind wasn’t here—it was still back in that hospital, tangled in Damien’s presence.Beside me, Theo drove in silence. I was still lost in my thoughts when he finally reached out and touched my hand. “Are you okay?”Jumping a bit, I gave him a startled look. “I… I, uh… I don’t know. I’m not sure.” I looked away, gazing outside and mindlessly watching the people we passed by. “Celeste, you know you can tell me anything,” he began gently. “Is it because we saw Damien?”He knew how deeply I had once loved Damien—probably still did. He wasn’t asking just to be polite. He genuinely wanted to know if I could handle this. If I was truly ready to walk away.I swallowed, pushing down the tangle of emotions inside me. Then I exhaled slowly. “I’m not the same person anymore…”Theo’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers tightening on t
Celeste’s POVThe world around me froze.It was like falling into an ice cave—cold, suffocating, inescapable.Through the narrow gap in the curtains, I stared, unblinking, as my husband kissed my former best friend.The divorce papers trembled in my hands, my fingers curling around the edges so tightly that the sharp paper dug into my skin. I didn’t feel it. I felt nothing. Or maybe, I felt too much—so much that my body had numbed itself in defense.I had suspected something between them.The stolen glances. The way Genevieve always inserted herself between us. The way Damien listened to her, believed her, even when it meant turning against me.Did they plan to frame me so they could send me away? But if that’s the case, why is Damien refusing to sign our divorce papers?My eyes watered as I remained frozen on the spot, my eyes never leaving them. It was like a slow, merciless dagger carving through my chest, deeper and deeper, until I couldn’t tell if I was still breathing.I bit my
Damien’s POVI was still standing by my desk, arms crossed, jaw tight, when Genevieve walked in.The door clicked shut behind her. She strolled inside with the ease of someone who belonged here—like she always had.Like she always would."Talking to the secretary again?" she mused, setting down a cup of coffee on my desk. "You know she likes to run her mouth, right?"I shot her a look. "She’s efficient."Genevieve smirked. "And nosy."There was a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she already had an idea of what the secretary had been saying. I had no patience for games right now."Why are you here?" I asked, sighing as I pinched the bridge of my nose."Well, your mother invited us to dinner this weekend," she announced casually. "She thinks we should spend more time together as a family."I stiffened. Us. Family.I didn’t like the way she said it."I’m busy," I said flatly. "I’ll talk to her about it later."Genevieve’s smile barely faltered, but I noticed the flicker of disappointment
Celeste’s POVI stepped out of my car, my heels clicking against the pavement as I folded my arms and leveled Damien with a cold stare."Didn't you want the divorce first?" My voice remained even, but the fury blazed just beneath the surface. "You even announced it in front of everyone at the party. So why are you acting so hypocritical now?"His expression faltered, his lips parting slightly like he hadn’t expected those words. His usual arrogance was missing, replaced with something... darker. Even sadder.He definitely looked conflicted.For a moment, I thought he might actually say something honest. Something real. But then, his features hardened, and the mask slid right back into place."Are you just looking for an excuse to get rid of me faster?" His voice was sharp, taunting. "So you can go and live with your group of lovers?"I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Right. Because that’s exactly what I did while you were busy parading around with your ‘spare wife.’"His
Celeste’s POVThe sudden ring of my phone cut through the air, sharp and jarring, snapping me out of the moment.I startled, instinctively reaching into my clutch. Damien’s grip loosened, just enough for me to step back.The screen flashed with the hospital’s number. My breath caught in my throat.I answered quickly. "Hello?""Miss Monroe?" The nurse’s voice was calm but clipped. "It’s your aunt. Her condition has suddenly worsened. The doctor would like you to come in immediately."I didn’t even hesitate. "I’m on my way."I turned, already walking. Damien called my name, but I didn’t look back.My heels clicked sharply against the marble steps, heart racing—not from what had just happened with Damien, but from the news that clutched at my chest like a vice.Oh, Auntie Eleanor. Please be okay. Please, please. I reached the curb and pulled out my phone again, opening a ride app. Nothing. All the cars were either booked or delayed. I turned to one of the event staff, breathless. "Is th
Celeste’s POVI kept my expression calm, smoothing the fabric of my dress like I wasn’t clenching my teeth to keep my pulse in check. What the hell is he thinking, locking us both in here?“Impressive,” he suddenly said, voice low and sharp as glass, as he moved closer to me. “You managed to clear your name and even earned a round of applause. Bravo.”His sarcasm dripped like venom, but I refused to rise to it.“If you’re just here to make snide remarks,” I said coolly, not even bothering to look up, “the door is right there.”“Don’t talk to me like that.”His voice dropped, darker this time—more dangerous.I finally lifted my eyes to meet him. “What right do you have to meddle in my affairs, Damien? We’re already divorced.”That word—divorced—hit like a slap. I saw it in the flicker of pain that flashed across his features before he forced it back behind that familiar mask of cold detachment.“Divorced?” he echoed with a bitter laugh. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”A
Celeste’s POVAll eyes were on me.I could feel the skepticism hanging in the air. And yet, I stood tall in the center of the hall. After all, I reminded myself that I wasn’t here to beg for belief. I was here to take it back.“For those who still care about the truth," I said clearly, wanting to reiterate my message, "the rumors about me are false. Deliberately crafted lies, fueled by someone who wanted to tear me down."The press murmured, and a wave of hushed gasps and judgmental scoffs rippled through the room."Oh please," someone in the crowd whispered loudly. "Of course she says that.""She’s just trying to play the victim. Typical."Another voice chimed in with a bitter laugh. "This is what they all do when they get caught."I didn’t flinch. Let them talk. I had expected this.But before I could respond, Theo stepped forward. "Enough."The room stilled. Even the most eager gossipers froze at the edge in his tone."Celeste doesn’t need to explain herself to anyone," Theo contin
Damien’s POVI lifted my glass to my lips without tasting the champagne. The conversations around me blurred into a background hum of empty pleasantries.Fake laughter. Hollow compliments. Meaningless alliances sealed with overpriced wine.I hated this. But Genevieve thrived on it.She stood a few paces away, wearing a luxurious gown, greeting the crowd with her signature smile. Every word, every gesture calculated. Definitely charming. A perfect performance indeed. Meanwhile, I was just trying to keep my temper in check.Another executive approached, all handshakes and toothy grins. I nodded, murmured something polite, and checked my watch for the fifth time in ten minutes.And then it happened. I caught murmurs—words floating in low whispers:“Is that Theo Mercer?” “He brought someone?” “Wait… is that his girlfriend?” “I didn’t know he was seeing anyone…”My gut twisted before I even turned.Theo? A girlfriend?No. That wasn’t possible. I would’ve heard something. The man didn’t
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
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
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…
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
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