LOGINHours after my wedding blew up in my face, I was finally home. A stack of papers and the wedding ring commissioned from the top designers at my company sat in plain view on my coffee table.
“I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” Vanessa said before heading upstairs.
I walked over to the living room and flipped through the papers. It was a divorce agreement already filled out and signed. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Celeste was looking for attention.
She was just a spoiled housewife. She’d be begging me to take her back in a couple of days when she realised she’s nothing without me.
I tossed the papers aside and sunk into the sofa, exhausted. Today was a massive failure that hurt both my pride and my pocket. Celeste was always good at wasting my money, but today really took the cake.
I sighed. At least Vanessa had handled announcing the wedding cancellation surprisingly well. I was happy to learn she had other talents besides incredible sex.
“You threw our family away when you slept with that backstabbing bitch.”
Celeste’s words hung around my mind like mosquitos. I did my best to swat them away, but they stuck around, ringing in my ear.
It irritated me that Celeste chose our wedding day to discover my relationship with Vanessa. We had been sleeping together for months already. But she was so dense I thought she’d never catch on.
I certainly never thought she’d give me divorce papers.
“Babe?” Vanessa called out.
“I’m in the living room.”
She wore one of Celeste’s lace nightgowns. It fit Vanessa better, showing off her curves. Her hips swayed deliciously as she walked over.
“Where’s Bonnie?” I asked as she settled into the cushions beside me.
“Oh, she’s playing in her room.”
Vanessa rested her head on my shoulder and looked up at me with warm brown eyes.
“How are you holding up?” She asked gently.
I exhaled and faced the TV. “Let’s just say today didn’t go as planned.”
“Don’t be upset, babe. There’s a bright side to all this.” Her voice became a purr. “I understand you so much better than she did.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow.
Vanessa leaned closer. Her lips touched my ear as she whispered.
“Ah-huh. I know just how to make you happy.”
My body immediately responded. All good reason flew out the door when Vanessa decided it was time to play. Much like earlier in the fitting room.
“And how exactly will you do that?” I asked, as desire flooded my veins.
Vanessa’s fingers trailed down my arm.
“Why don’t we take this to the bedroom and I’ll show you?”
She punctuated the sentence by playfully biting my earlobe.
I couldn’t stand her teasing any longer. I grabbed her by the jaw and lifted her face to devour her mouth.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
I pulled us apart to see Bonnie walking into the living room, rubbing her belly.
“I want food.” She demanded.
That was the second time today that someone interrupted my fun. I suppressed a groan.
Vanessa was adjusting her clothes beside me.
“Go make Bonnie something to eat.”
She froze. The silence stretched, and I felt my patience slip.
“I actually don’t know how to cook.” She laughed nervously. “Let’s just order takeout.”
How had I not realised how undomesticated she was?
Thinking back to our late nights at the office and so-called business trips, she had not cooked once for me. This revelation caught me off guard. It was an extreme inconvenience.
What kind of woman didn’t know how to cook?
“Fine.” I said, my mood soured, “Order something. Just feed her.”
Bonnie folded her arms and pouted.
She muttered under her breath. “I want Mommy’s cooking.”
Bonnie’s scrunched up face pulled on my heartstrings.
I didn’t want to be the one to call first. I was already revelling in Celeste’s inevitable return with her tail between her legs.
But it was hard for me to see my daughter so unhappy. I did everything I could to provide her with the very best.
If she wanted her mother’s cooking, that’s what she’d get.
“Don’t sulk, Bon-Bon.” I said. “I’ll get you Mommy’s cooking.”
She smiled at me like I was a superhero. Finally, a win today.
I dug my phone out of my pocket.
“Why do you need to call her? Takeout would only take like thirty minutes.” Vanessa nagged.
I gave her a hard look. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you knew how to cook.”
She looked away as I dialled Celeste. The phone rang for several moments. With each ring I felt a frustration build up inside me I couldn’t place.
Just when I was about to end the call, she picked up.
“What do you want?”
Her clipped tone and rude demeanor stunned me. Was this the same woman I had been married to for five years?
My voice was firm. “Come home and make dinner.”
Celeste laughed. It was so unexpected. I hadn’t heard that sound in ages.
“You’re kidding, right?” She asked as her laughter subsided.
What was wrong with her? Did she have a mental break after finding out about my affair? Whatever it was, it was annoying the hell out of me.
“I’m being serious, Celeste. Bonnie is hungry, so get your lazy ass home now and make us something to eat.”
“Why don’t you ask Vanessa to cook for you?”
My annoyance was becoming anger. How many times did I have to tell her something before it got through her thick head?
I stood up and paced the living room.
“She can’t cook.” I said through gritted teeth. “Just get over here now or so help me Celeste I will—”
“You’ll what? Have an affair?” Contempt laced her voice. “If your whore can’t cook, then you better pick up a spatula and start learning, Damien.”
She cut the call.
My jaw dropped. Never in all the time I had known her, had Celeste ever refused me or spoken to me like that.
“Is Mommy coming?” Bonnie asked with wide eyes.
My grip on my phone tightened as the sickening feeling of something slipping out of reach tormented me.
Celeste’s POVThe stairwell smelled like damp concrete and old takeout, the kind of smell that clung to your clothes whether you wanted it to or not.I climbed slowly, my heels echoing too loudly against the narrow steps, counting each floor as if that might prepare me for what waited at the top.Grace’s apartment.Grace and Andre’s apartment, really, though Andre’s presence still lingered in the walls long after he’d been hauled out of Rosemary in handcuffs.I hadn’t been here since everything broke open, since the illusion of safety collapsed in on itself.I knocked once, then twice.The door swung open almost immediately. Grace stood there barefoot, hair twisted into a loose knot, wearing an oversized sweater that used to be one of mine. Her eyes softened the moment she saw me.“Hey,” she said. “You made it.”I stepped inside, the door closing behind me with a hollow thud. The place looked smaller than I remembered. Dingier. The walls were bare in uneven patches where pictures used
Celeste’s POVI decided, somewhere between my third untouched cup of coffee and the fourth unanswered email from a European freight partner, that if Aurora was going to sit at the center of my survival, then it no longer got to be a shadow.For weeks, I had let myself treat Aurora like a miracle I wasn’t allowed to question. A solution that appeared when Rosemary was choking. A quiet hand that unlocked ports, rerouted shipments, made impossible calls disappear. I told myself secrecy was the cost of rescue.Now it felt like a risk I couldn’t afford.I closed the shipping dashboard on my screen and opened a fresh document instead. At the top, I typed one word.AURORA.“Okay,” I murmured to myself. “Who are you?”Jenny poked her head into my office a second later, her tablet hugged to her chest, hair pulled into a messy ponytail that was starting to become her default during crises.“Rachel’s free if you want her,” she said. “She’s pretending to reorganize the gemstone vault but she’s act
Celeste’s POVThe Beaumont folder sat open on my desk long after the office had quieted down, its contents spread out like a carefully arranged trap.I’d read these documents three times already. Exclusivity clauses. Soft power provisions disguised as “brand alignment expectations.” Escalation pathways that looked benign until you imagined them exercised against a company already bleeding from supplier blockades. None of it was overtly illegal. That’s what made it dangerous.Beaumont was never bullied outright. They leaned.I rubbed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling of my studio. This place had survived worse than a luxury conglomerate’s displeasure. But my instincts wouldn’t settle.Something wasn’t adding up.The pressure from Beaumont came too fast. Too coordinated. Almost… reactive.My gaze drifted to my phone.There was one person I hadn’t spoken to in years. Someone who would know how Beaumont thought from the inside.I scrolled until I found his name.A
Celeste’s POVThe conference room felt colder than usual, though the heating hummed softly behind the walls.I noticed it the moment the Beaumont representatives sat down across from me, two of them, immaculate, measured, dressed in that neutral luxury that cost more than it looked like it should. Concern wore a pleasant face.“Ms. Sinclar,” the woman said, smiling with her lips but not quite her eyes. “Thank you for making time on such short notice.”“As always,” I replied, folding my hands together on the table to keep them from fidgeting. Jenny sat to my right, her tablet already open. Rachel was on my left, arms crossed loosely, posture relaxed in that way that signaled quiet readiness. I was grateful for them more than I could articulate.The man cleared his throat. “We wanted to check in regarding… recent developments.”I nodded. “I assumed that’s why you’re here.”They exchanged a glance. A small one. Practiced.“We’ve been made aware,” the woman continued, “that Rosemary Atelie
Celeste’s POVRyan came in just as the door swung shut behind Officer Raymond.The room still smelled faintly of coffee and paper and the kind of tension that lingered after difficult truths were spoken aloud. I hadn’t even had time to sit back down when I felt him there, his presence always registered before the sound of his footsteps did.“What was he doing here?” Ryan asked, his voice calm but alert, eyes scanning the table, the closed folder, my laptop still open with security logs on the screen.I exhaled and straightened, bracing myself without quite knowing why. “He wanted to talk about Andre. About everything connected to him.”Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Everything?”I nodded. “The break-ins. The stolen designs. The deleted camera footage. The Paraíba robbery. Identity fraud. He’s rebuilding the timeline.”There was a flicker in Ryan’s eyes, something sharp, protective, immediately engaged. “Why didn’t you call me in?”The question landed harder than it should have.I blinked. “Wha
Celeste’s POVI made the call from my studio with the door closed, blinds half-drawn against the late afternoon glare.Rosemary hummed outside, metal against metal, soft voices, the rhythm of work continuing despite everything that had been shaken loose. I let it ground me before Raymond answered.“Officer Raymond,” he said.“It’s Celeste Sinclair,” I replied. “I want to check in about Andre’s case. And… everything connected to it.”There was a pause, not hesitation, exactly, but recalibration.“I was hoping you’d call, Celeste,” he said, his tone notably warmer. “This conversation’s overdue, and honestly, I was worried you were trying to handle this massive headache alone.”Something in his tone shifted then, subtle but important. This wasn’t a courtesy update. This was the beginning of something more deliberate.“I don’t want partial answers anymore,” I told him. “I want to know what you can prove. And what you can’t—but suspect.”“Fair enough,” Raymond said. “In that case, let’s sto







