CHAPTER 25
Damien’s POV
I 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 talling 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 New York, these gossip mongers were endless. No matter how much money I threw at them, no matter how many articles I buried or headlines I paid off, they’d always come back–gnawing, scavenging, feeding on
the same carcass of scandal they’d been feasting on.
Celeste, once anonymous and untouched by the glare of wealth and status, was now prey. And it was my fault.
She didn’t deserve this kind of hell, no matter her unfaithfulness.
She’d once lived a quiet life. Ordinary. Peaceful. A life where she could walk the streets without bodyguards, without shutter clicks or whispers following her every move. But now, even a five–minute walk outside turned into a game of cat and mouse. Cameras hiding behind tinted windows. Strangers barking accusations under their breath. Her face plastered across every dirty tabloid and
comment thread.
I had built her a palace–and turned it into a prison.
“Uh, sir?”
My eyes popped open, and I saw that my assistant was still standing there.
“There’s… a way,” he began slowly, “to end this. To quiet it all. Once and for all.”
I said nothing. But my silence gave him permission to continue.
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#20 Bonus
“If the divorce goes through–formally, publicly–then the narrative changes. She’s not the cheating wife of the Vaughn heir anymore. Just a single woman who’s moved on. The scandal loses its bite.”
The word hit me like a slap.
Divorce.
Just saying it sounded like betrayal.
I looked up at him, eyes cold. “Get out.”
He froze.
“I said get out.”
He left without another word, the door clicking softly behind him. I stayed still for a long time.
In that instance, I remembered the look on my father’s face, how he’d wanted me to get Celeste out of my life for good. But the
pressure from my father, on top of the discontent of the shareholders and the endless speculation from the tabloids…
None of it really mattered to me.
I could handle all of it. Hell, I’d spent my entire life preparing to bear the weight of this empire. I’d stand against every vulture
that circled overhead, tear down anyone who dared to speak my name with venom.
But Celeste…
Celeste didn’t have an army behind her. She had no powerful bloodline to back her, no ironclad legacy to hide behind. There were
no publicists cleaning up her name, no lawyers spinning the narrative. She was standing in the eye of a storm with no umbrella,
no armor–just her.
And I had put her there, which made me feel really guilty,
She pretended to be strong. She always had. But I knew better. I knew that every cruel headline and every stranger who called her
a whore, a liar, or a gold digger chipped away at her, destroying her bit by bit.
God, I can feel it slowly killing me too, just thinking about what it’s doing to her!
The thought was unbearable. I certainly did not intend for her to suffer like this.
I may not love her, but I don’t want her to get hurt further by these other people.
With a heavy heart, I picked up my phone.
My grip tightened around it like it might slip through my fingers if I didn’t hold on hard enough. I stared at the screen for what felt like forever before forcing myself to dial her number.
Celeste.
Her name alone made something twist violently in my chest.
+20 Bonus
The phone rang once. Twice. Then I heard her voice.
“Hello?”
I swallowed hard, the words sticking to the back of my throat like poison. Every part of me screamed not to say it. But I did.
“Let’s talk about the divorce.”
Long, hard silence followed.
And then she spoke in a distant, hollow voice. “Okay,”
Click. The call ended. Just like that.
I stared at the screen. My thumb still hovered above the glass like I’d call her back. Like maybe I didn’t just light the final match
between us.
My hand was shaking. I hadn’t even realized it until I set the phone down and saw the tremor.
A hollow ache lodged deep in my chest, echoing with everything I didn’t say. And yet–buried beneath the burden of guilt and silence–something stubborn still burned. A flicker of desperation.
Maybe if she admitted she was wrong. If she let down her guard, just once. If she turned back and reached out, even the slightest
I’d protect her again. No matter what it cost me.
I’d fight for her, even if it meant turning the world inside out.
But the question was… would she even let me?
