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 next morning, I drove to my mother’s house with Molly humming softly in the back seat, her legs swinging as she watched the city slide past the window. There was something grounding about the routine of it, packing snacks, reminding her to buckle her seatbelt, listening to her narrate clouds like they were characters in a story only she could see.After the night with Ryan, after all the words we hadn’t had time to finish saying, I felt… steadier. Not healed. Not resolved. But less like I was actively coming apart.Ryan had left too soon. Work, obligations, the invisible leash his father still held tight around his wrist. We’d stood in the doorway of my office like two people afraid to say goodbye too honestly. He’d kissed my forehead, promised we’d talk properly soon. I believed him. Or maybe I needed to.Claire opened the door before I even knocked, her smile warm and immediate.“There’s my favorite people,” she said, crouching to Molly’s height. “And my second fav
Celeste’s POVI was still at the office long after the building had gone quiet.Rosemary Atelier at night felt different. The overhead lights above the main studio were dimmed, leaving only the lamps over my worktable on. Sketches were spread out in front of me, winter motifs half-finished, lines too sharp, stones set too aggressively. I knew they were wrong, but I hadn’t had the energy to fix them yet.I heard the elevator before I saw him.The doors opened softly, cautiously, as if whoever stepped out didn’t want to be noticed. I didn’t look up right away. People didn’t usually come up here this late unless they were security or Grace, and neither of them moved like that.Then I caught the familiar weight of his presence. The way the air shifted.Ryan was bundled up like a criminal in a bad movie, dark coat zipped all the way up, scarf pulled high, baseball cap low over his eyes. He looked absurd and devastating at the same time.“Jesus,” I said quietly. “Do you think you’re being hu
Celeste’s POVI arrived at the courthouse with a steadiness that surprised me.There was no tremor in my hands as I passed through security, no spike of adrenaline when I heard Vanessa’s name murmured by reporters clustered near the steps. I had imagined this day a hundred different ways, me furious, shaking, vindictive; me unraveling; me wanting to flee at the first glimpse of her face. None of that happened.Instead, I felt… distant. As if the version of myself who had been hurt by Vanessa was standing a few feet behind me, watching quietly, no longer in control.Jenny walked beside me, her shoulder brushing mine every so often. She wore a simple navy dress, her hair pulled back neatly, her expression composed but alert.She hadn’t said much since we arrived, but her presence grounded me. It mattered that she was here, not as my employee, not as someone I was protecting, but as someone who had survived the same storm.We took our seats in the gallery. The courtroom smelled faintly of
Celeste’s POVVanessa’s sentencing day was tomorrow.The thought settled into me slowly, like something heavy being placed on my chest, not crushing, but impossible to ignore. I sat alone in my office long after most of Rosemary Atelier had emptied out, the city lights outside the windows blurred into soft halos by the rain.I had known this day was coming for months. Depositions, evidence, closed-door meetings with lawyers who spoke in measured tones as if lives were not being dismantled sentence by sentence.Tomorrow, it would end.I surprised myself by deciding to attend.I didn’t announce it. I didn’t dramatize it in my head. I simply closed my laptop, stood up, and knew, with a clarity that felt almost eerie, that I needed to be there. Not for revenge. Not even for closure, if I was honest.But because Vanessa Abrams had carved herself into too many chapters of my life for me to let the final one be told without me in the room.I was locking up when Jenny’s voice floated down the
Celeste’s POVRyan called three times before noon.I watched the screen light up on my desk, his name blooming there like a bruise I refused to press. I didn’t pick up. I didn’t decline either. I let it ring until the sound dissolved into the hum of the studio, into the clink of metal and the low murmur of voices beyond the glass walls of my office.Ignoring him felt childish. Necessary, but childish all the same. I told myself I needed space. That if I heard his voice, steady, controlled, probably apologetic in that careful way of his, I would fold. Or worse, I would say something sharp enough to lodge between us forever.I turned back to my sketchpad instead.The Beaumont winter collection deadline loomed like a storm cloud, and normally that kind of pressure grounded me. Deadlines had always been my refuge. Work was the one place where I could translate chaos into order, gold into geometry, pain into something precise and beautiful.But that morning, my pencil carved instead of glid
Celeste’s POVI should have been focused. The winter collection sketches were scattered across the table in front of me, delicate drawings of snow-dusted necklaces and frost-inspired earrings, and the fine-tipped pens were still warm with ink in my fingers.But my stomach was twisting, coiling tighter with every passing second as I scrolled through my phone.And then I saw it.I almost choked on the scone I had been trying to eat for breakfast.There it was, splashed across every tabloid I hadn’t even realized I’d opened, the kind I usually avoided like a plague. Ryan Edwards and a new lady love—Crown Luxe heir spotted in downtown brunch rendezvous with socialite.And the picture, oh God, the picture, showed him laughing, leaning into her as if the world had nothing else to offer him. She was polished, poised, perfect.Every bit of her screamed sophistication, elegance, belonging in his orbit. And there I was, sitting in my studio, a half-eaten scone on my plate, hair in a messy bun, s







