Celeste's Pov
The scent of truffle risotto and aged wine filled the air, mingling with the soft clinking of silverware and murmured conversations. "Lumière" was the kind of restaurant where the rich indulged in overpriced delicacies while pretending to care about calorie counts. It was also where I spent my nights weaving between tables, balancing trays heavier than my will to live. "Order up, Table Fourteen!" The head chef’s voice cut through the kitchen, snapping me out of my daze. I forced a smile, adjusting the stiff black uniform that somehow felt tighter today. Maybe because it had been years since I’d last been served at places like this rather than serving at them. I grabbed the plates, ignoring the ache in my arms, and stepped into the dimly lit dining area. My feet ached from the double shift, but rent was due, and I didn’t have the luxury of quitting. This wasn’t the life I had imagined for myself. At eighteen, I had walked across the graduation stage in designer heels, my future gleaming like the diamond bracelet wrapped around my wrist. Celeste Montgomery, daughter of the Montgomery legacy. Wealthy. Untouchable. Destined for greatness. Then, in a whirlwind of scandal and betrayal, I had lost it all. Bankruptcy. Lawsuits. My father’s empire crumbling like a house of cards. Our lavish estate had been auctioned off, my designer wardrobe reduced to thrift-store rejects. The friends who had once clung to my side like designer accessories had disappeared overnight, as if my downfall were contagious. By the time I was nineteen, I was broke. By twenty, I had learned what it meant to struggle. Now, at twenty-eight, I was still drowning. "Hey, Montgomery! You alive?" One of the other waitresses, Lily, nudged me as she passed. "Table Fourteen’s been waiting." I took a steadying breath and straightened my shoulders, stepping forward. "Enjoy your meal," I said, carefully setting the plates down. And then I heard it. That laugh. My pulse stuttered. I knew that laugh. Vanessa Harrington. I didn’t need to look up to confirm. That laughter had once been my own soundtrack to high school gossip sessions, usually aimed at the unfortunate souls beneath our social tier. And Vanessa had always been the conductor of that cruel symphony. I swallowed hard, willing myself to turn away, but... "Oh my God." The shrill voice cut through the ambient jazz music. "Celeste? Is that you?" Damn it. I pasted on my best customer service smile and turned. "Vanessa. Sienna. Olivia. Wow. What a… surprise." Sienna Brooks and Olivia Hart exchanged looks, struggling to hold in laughter. Vanessa, ever the ringleader, leaned forward on her manicured hands. "I almost didn’t recognize you in that little uniform! It’s cute. Very… modest for you." I gripped the tray harder. "Well, you know me. Always a trendsetter. Poverty is very in this season." Sienna snorted. "Still got that sharp tongue, huh? But, uh, what happened, Celeste? Last time I checked, you were living in an estate, and now…" Her gaze flicked to the restaurant name embroidered on my apron. "You work here?" I forced a laugh. "Oh, I don’t just work here," I deadpanned. "I run the place. It’s all part of my undercover billionaire mission. You wouldn’t understand—it requires depth." Olivia bit her lip to hide a giggle, but Vanessa wasn’t amused. She leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "Well, we were just reminiscing about old times. Particularly about Leo Kingsley." My stomach flipped, but I kept my expression neutral. "Oh?" "You really fumbled that bag, huh?" Vanessa sighed dramatically. "Imagine.....you were the only girl he ever seriously pursued, and you let him go. Now he’s Leo Kingsley, billionaire mogul. Untouchable. He has the kind of wealth that even your father couldn’t dream of. And yet, you lost him." My grip on the tray tightened. That wasn’t the whole story. Leo had been different from everyone else in our circle not because he was a scholarship student at our elite high school, but because he never once looked at me the way everyone else did. He was unaffected, unimpressed, and worst of all… uninterested. That was why they dared me to date him. I remembered the scene perfectly. Vanessa, Sienna, and Olivia sitting in my bedroom, painting their nails, laughing. "Make Leo Kingsley fall for you," Vanessa had said, "and then break his heart. If anyone can do it, you can." And I had. But I hadn’t expected to fall for him, too. Then, just like that, my life had collapsed, and I had left him behind. Left everything behind. Now, Vanessa pulled out her phone, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, look at this!" She turned the screen toward me, showing a recent headline: LEO KINGSLEY, AMERICA’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR, SPOTTED IN PARIS. "No scandals, no drama. Just wealth, power, and control," Vanessa said, tilting her head. "A man like him wouldn’t even look at someone like you now." There were a million things I could have done in that moment. Walk away. Swallow my pride. Take the high road. Instead, my mouth moved before my brain could catch up. "Leo Kingsley still wants me back." The words hung in the air, ridiculous and irreversible. Silence. Then... Vanessa laughed. "Oh, sweetie. That’s cute." "It’s true," I said, lifting my chin. "He still calls me. Can’t move on. It’s tragic, really." Sienna raised an eyebrow. "You expect us to believe that Leo Kingsley—billionaire, scandal-free genius of the financial world—is still pining after you?" I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I can’t help it if men get attached." Vanessa grinned like a cat that had cornered a wounded bird. "Prove it. Call him. Right now." My stomach dropped. Oh. Crap. My mind raced. What were the odds that they actually expected me to do it? Maybe I could fake a bad connection. Maybe— "No need," Olivia suddenly piped up, her phone in hand. "I just sent a clip of this conversation to X. Let’s see if he responds." My blood turned ice cold. And just like that, my world turned upside down.Celeste’s POV My world turned upside down. Not gradually. Not gently. But like a tablecloth ripped from beneath fine china—jarring, chaotic, and loud. That’s what I told myself as I stood frozen in place, the chill of Lumière’s air conditioning sinking into my skin like frostbite. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe. Laughter—their laughter—rang in my ears like gunfire. Olivia’s smirk was cruel, her voice sugarcoated poison. Smile, Celeste the internet loves a delusional comeback. The air left my lungs. I didn’t remember inhaling again. The tray in my hand wobbled, as it hits a nearby table it's metallic clang echoing louder than the laughter behind me but I didn’t care. I barely registered it. All I knew was that the ground beneath me no longer felt solid.Panic bloomed in my chest, cold and suffocating. My cheeks burned. My throat itched. My ears roared with every heartbeat as shame rose like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. I turned on instinct
Leo’s POV I didn’t hear the buzz of my phone at first. Not over the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Not over the ticking clock that marked each second I refused to waste. My office was sealed from the chaos outside—soundproofed, temperature controlled, meticulously maintained. I didn’t tolerate noise. Not from people. Not from problems. I'd told Briar not to disturb me. She knew better than to test my limits. But the damn phone kept buzzing. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession. I didn’t look up until it buzzed again. And again. I exhaled sharply, jaw clenched, then picked it up. The screen glared back at me with thirteen missed messages. Ten from Briar. Three from my grandmother. A flicker of unease passed through me. Gran never texted more than once. If she had to repeat herself, it meant something was wrong. I unlocked the screen. All the messages boiled down to one line: “Celeste Montgomery is trending.” The name hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because
Celeste’s POV I barely slept. Not because I didn’t want to—but because my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. All night long. One notification after another lit up the darkness. Eventually, I flipped it face-down and shoved it under my pillow, hoping that would mute the madness. It didn’t. Because the noise wasn’t just in the phone anymore—it was in me. Buzzing under my skin, thrumming in my chest. By morning, I wasn’t tired—I was wired. My body ached with tension. My chest felt like something heavy had been sitting on it all night. Still, I reached for the phone, half-hoping the world had gone back to normal. It hadn’t. The screen glared back at me: 214 new notifications. My heart stuttered. “Leo Kingsley’s Confession: Still in Love?” “The Viral Girl Who Stole a Billionaire’s Heart.” “Celeste Montgomery: From Server to Spotlight.” I blinked. What? I clicked the first headline. The article was short. Too short. In a shocking turn of events, billionaire CEO Leo Kingsley respo
Celeste’s POV The moment I stepped into Kingsley Tower, the air shifted. It wasn’t cold, but a chill ran through me anyway. Maybe it was the glass walls, the polished marble floors, or the way people in tailored suits moved with quiet efficiency—like they belonged here and knew it. I, on the other hand, was wrapped in my old hoodie, head down, already regretting this. Yet as I made my way toward the reception desk, I noticed something strange. People were looking at me. Not in the usual way, not like they were judging my outfit or wondering what a girl like me was doing in a place like this. No, it was different. They nodded. Smiled. One even offered a slight bow, and I blinked in confusion. Why were they being… respectful? “Miss Celeste?” the woman at the front desk asked, her tone smooth and welcoming. My eyes widened at the sound of my name. “Uh… yeah. That’s me.” “You’re expected. Mr. Kingsley is currently in a meeting, but you may wait on his floor. You’ll
Celeste’s POV I waited on the steps in front of my apartment building, arms crossed against the morning chill, staring down the cracked sidewalk like it owed me something. The sky was still a dull grey, the kind that made everything feel heavier. The low purr of an engine cut through the quiet, too smooth, too polished—like it thought it was too good for the cracked pavement it rolled over. A sleek, black car pulled up and stopped right in front of me. It idled there, windows tinted too dark to see in—but I didn’t need to. I already knew who it was. Still, he made no move to step out. Not even a quick honk. A few seconds later, the driver’s side window rolled down halfway, revealing the sharp jawline and colder eyes of Leo Kingsley. His voice, rich with sarcasm, cut through the silence. “Did you actually think I’d get out and open the door for you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.” His smirk barely touched his lips. “Keep dreaming.” I wa
Celeste's Pov I stood outside the kind of building that made you feel poor just by looking at it, the suitcase handle biting into my palm, as I blinked up at the uniformed doorman who was giving me the kind of look reserved for street performers who'd wandered into the wrong neighborhood. “I’m here to move in,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “With Leo.” His eyebrow lifted like it had been trained to do so. “Mr. Kingsley?” “No, the other Leo who owns the penthouse on the top floor,” I snapped, then forced a tight smile. “Yes. That Leo.” He gave me a slow once-over. Not the good kind. The kind that said you’ve got to be kidding me. “I wasn’t told to expect anyone today,” he said flatly. “Especially not a... guest.” Of course he didn’t tell them I was coming. That would’ve required basic human decency—something Leo Kingsley had clearly evolved past I clenched my jaw. “I’m not a guest. I’m his girlfriend.” That did it. The second doorman—leaner, younger, clear
Eleven years ago. Celeste's Pov The hallway was just like any other high school hallway—bright lights, lockers lining the walls, and the dull murmur of students exchanging whispered gossip, like secrets were just another currency. But there was something about St. Augustine Prep that made everything feel a bit more polished, a bit more important. The students here weren’t just students—they were the heirs to future empires, the ones who would shape the world. I walked through it like I owned every inch. My blazer was sharp, the skirt hitting just above my knee in the perfect mix of edgy and polished. My heels clicked against the floor, too confident and too loud to be ignored. Olivia, Sienna, and Vanessa were trailing behind me, all of them in perfect sync, just like always. But I was the one they followed. “There he is,” Olivia whispered, a slight nudge to my elbow. I didn’t need her to point. I’d already seen him. Leo Kingsley. The scholarship kid. Quiet, brooding, and e
Eleven years ago. Celeste's Pov The hallway was just like any other high school hallway—bright lights, lockers lining the walls, and the dull murmur of students exchanging whispered gossip, like secrets were just another currency. But there was something about St. Augustine Prep that made everything feel a bit more polished, a bit more important. The students here weren’t just students—they were the heirs to future empires, the ones who would shape the world. I walked through it like I owned every inch. My blazer was sharp, the skirt hitting just above my knee in the perfect mix of edgy and polished. My heels clicked against the floor, too confident and too loud to be ignored. Olivia, Sienna, and Vanessa were trailing behind me, all of them in perfect sync, just like always. But I was the one they followed. “There he is,” Olivia whispered, a slight nudge to my elbow. I didn’t need her to point. I’d already seen him. Leo Kingsley. The scholarship kid. Quiet, brooding, and e
Celeste's Pov I stood outside the kind of building that made you feel poor just by looking at it, the suitcase handle biting into my palm, as I blinked up at the uniformed doorman who was giving me the kind of look reserved for street performers who'd wandered into the wrong neighborhood. “I’m here to move in,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “With Leo.” His eyebrow lifted like it had been trained to do so. “Mr. Kingsley?” “No, the other Leo who owns the penthouse on the top floor,” I snapped, then forced a tight smile. “Yes. That Leo.” He gave me a slow once-over. Not the good kind. The kind that said you’ve got to be kidding me. “I wasn’t told to expect anyone today,” he said flatly. “Especially not a... guest.” Of course he didn’t tell them I was coming. That would’ve required basic human decency—something Leo Kingsley had clearly evolved past I clenched my jaw. “I’m not a guest. I’m his girlfriend.” That did it. The second doorman—leaner, younger, clear
Celeste’s POV I waited on the steps in front of my apartment building, arms crossed against the morning chill, staring down the cracked sidewalk like it owed me something. The sky was still a dull grey, the kind that made everything feel heavier. The low purr of an engine cut through the quiet, too smooth, too polished—like it thought it was too good for the cracked pavement it rolled over. A sleek, black car pulled up and stopped right in front of me. It idled there, windows tinted too dark to see in—but I didn’t need to. I already knew who it was. Still, he made no move to step out. Not even a quick honk. A few seconds later, the driver’s side window rolled down halfway, revealing the sharp jawline and colder eyes of Leo Kingsley. His voice, rich with sarcasm, cut through the silence. “Did you actually think I’d get out and open the door for you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.” His smirk barely touched his lips. “Keep dreaming.” I wa
Celeste’s POV The moment I stepped into Kingsley Tower, the air shifted. It wasn’t cold, but a chill ran through me anyway. Maybe it was the glass walls, the polished marble floors, or the way people in tailored suits moved with quiet efficiency—like they belonged here and knew it. I, on the other hand, was wrapped in my old hoodie, head down, already regretting this. Yet as I made my way toward the reception desk, I noticed something strange. People were looking at me. Not in the usual way, not like they were judging my outfit or wondering what a girl like me was doing in a place like this. No, it was different. They nodded. Smiled. One even offered a slight bow, and I blinked in confusion. Why were they being… respectful? “Miss Celeste?” the woman at the front desk asked, her tone smooth and welcoming. My eyes widened at the sound of my name. “Uh… yeah. That’s me.” “You’re expected. Mr. Kingsley is currently in a meeting, but you may wait on his floor. You’ll
Celeste’s POV I barely slept. Not because I didn’t want to—but because my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. All night long. One notification after another lit up the darkness. Eventually, I flipped it face-down and shoved it under my pillow, hoping that would mute the madness. It didn’t. Because the noise wasn’t just in the phone anymore—it was in me. Buzzing under my skin, thrumming in my chest. By morning, I wasn’t tired—I was wired. My body ached with tension. My chest felt like something heavy had been sitting on it all night. Still, I reached for the phone, half-hoping the world had gone back to normal. It hadn’t. The screen glared back at me: 214 new notifications. My heart stuttered. “Leo Kingsley’s Confession: Still in Love?” “The Viral Girl Who Stole a Billionaire’s Heart.” “Celeste Montgomery: From Server to Spotlight.” I blinked. What? I clicked the first headline. The article was short. Too short. In a shocking turn of events, billionaire CEO Leo Kingsley respo
Leo’s POV I didn’t hear the buzz of my phone at first. Not over the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Not over the ticking clock that marked each second I refused to waste. My office was sealed from the chaos outside—soundproofed, temperature controlled, meticulously maintained. I didn’t tolerate noise. Not from people. Not from problems. I'd told Briar not to disturb me. She knew better than to test my limits. But the damn phone kept buzzing. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession. I didn’t look up until it buzzed again. And again. I exhaled sharply, jaw clenched, then picked it up. The screen glared back at me with thirteen missed messages. Ten from Briar. Three from my grandmother. A flicker of unease passed through me. Gran never texted more than once. If she had to repeat herself, it meant something was wrong. I unlocked the screen. All the messages boiled down to one line: “Celeste Montgomery is trending.” The name hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because
Celeste’s POV My world turned upside down. Not gradually. Not gently. But like a tablecloth ripped from beneath fine china—jarring, chaotic, and loud. That’s what I told myself as I stood frozen in place, the chill of Lumière’s air conditioning sinking into my skin like frostbite. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe. Laughter—their laughter—rang in my ears like gunfire. Olivia’s smirk was cruel, her voice sugarcoated poison. Smile, Celeste the internet loves a delusional comeback. The air left my lungs. I didn’t remember inhaling again. The tray in my hand wobbled, as it hits a nearby table it's metallic clang echoing louder than the laughter behind me but I didn’t care. I barely registered it. All I knew was that the ground beneath me no longer felt solid.Panic bloomed in my chest, cold and suffocating. My cheeks burned. My throat itched. My ears roared with every heartbeat as shame rose like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. I turned on instinct
Celeste's PovThe scent of truffle risotto and aged wine filled the air, mingling with the soft clinking of silverware and murmured conversations. "Lumière" was the kind of restaurant where the rich indulged in overpriced delicacies while pretending to care about calorie counts. It was also where I spent my nights weaving between tables, balancing trays heavier than my will to live."Order up, Table Fourteen!" The head chef’s voice cut through the kitchen, snapping me out of my daze. I forced a smile, adjusting the stiff black uniform that somehow felt tighter today. Maybe because it had been years since I’d last been served at places like this rather than serving at them.I grabbed the plates, ignoring the ache in my arms, and stepped into the dimly lit dining area. My feet ached from the double shift, but rent was due, and I didn’t have the luxury of quitting.This wasn’t the life I had imagined for myself.At eighteen, I had walked across the graduation stage in designer heels, my