CHAPTER 27
Celeste’s POV
I sat there, spine straight, heart clenched in anticipation.
He hadn’t picked up the pen yet. It lay there on the table between us, gleaming under the garden lights, like a sword waiting to be drawn. His eyes flicked to mine–and then, slowly, to the document.
I said nothing.
On the surface, I remained poised. Cold, composed, detached. But beneath that mask, a trace of nervousness coiled tight in my stomach, refusing to leave. My fingers pressed against my lap, steadying themselves, hiding the tremor that threatened to betray
- me.
He reached for the document, paused, and let his hand hover above it. His eyes moved over the pages again slowly and
deliberately. For a moment, I thought he might back out. That he would look up and say he couldn’t do it.
But he didn’t.
His fingers closed around the pen.
And with the same calm finality that once marked the beginning of our story, Damien signed his name.
The pen slowly glided across the page. There was no hesitation in his hand, no last–minute questions or pleas. Just that signature. -elegant, familiar, and merciless.
It’s over.
As Damien slid the document back toward me, I stared at the page for a moment too long. His name stood stark against the pristine white, and suddenly, my mind betrayed me dragging me back to that day.
The day we got married.
He’d signed our marriage certificate with the same swift elegance. I remembered how his hand had barely paused, how he didn’t even look up as he scrawled his name across our future. There was no ceremony, no flowers, no warmth. Just a courthouse, two pens, and a silent exchange of obligation masked as commitment.
I smiled then, naively hopeful. Convinced that we could build something together. That time would make things better.
I was wrong.
And now, watching him sign again–this time not to begin, but to end–that old ache reared its head one last time before I forced
it down.
I picked up the pen. My fingers didn’t shake. I signed my name beside his.
This time, I didn’t smile. Yet, I didn’t know if I felt relieved… or maybe empty.
1/3
CHAFTEA 27
For a brief moment, I wanted to ask him. Did you ever love me, even for a second? Are you with Genevieve now?
The questions hovered, just behind my lips. Would he marry her next, like everyone expected him to?
But I said nothing. Because none of it mattered anymore.
+20 Bonus
Our marriage ended just like it began–quietly. Without ceremony. Without sentiment. Just a pair of names on a paper. An elegant goodbye wrapped in silence.
Damien stood. The garden lights stretched his shadow across the table, tall and sharp. His hand brushed against his jacket like he was about to leave without another word.
But then… he paused. My heartbeat picked up again.
At the threshold of the rooftop, he turned halfway. “Your wedding ring.” That was all he said, startling me..
My hand Instinctively curled–empty. It had been bare for a long time. I’d taken it off the night I realized I couldn’t love a man. who didn’t believe me, who didn’t care what happened to me in that asylum.
Why was he asking about it now? Did he need it back? Was it for legal reasons? Insurance? Or… was he planning to give it to her?
No. That last thought was ridiculous. I shoved it aside before it could burrow deeper.
“It’s gone,” I said evenly, my voice giving nothing away.
His jaw twitched. Just once.
He didn’t ask where it went. He didn’t demand it.
He just gave a slow nod, his gaze unfathomable as it lingered on me for a breath too long–like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words that wouldn’t make him seem… small.
And Damien Vaughn, the billionaire and CEO, never allowed himself to seem small.
I thought of the ring again.
It had landed somewhere on the cold, sterile floor of that godforsaken mental institution. Slipped from my fingers and clattered. against the tile like something foreign–something dead. I had thrown it away with my own hands. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
Just like that, I’d let it go.
Damien’s eyes darkened. Just slightly–but I caught it.
His fingers twitched, briefly forming into a fist before releasing. The smallest crack in his composure. But he said nothing. Didn’t accuse nor beg
He took one last look at me–longer than necessary, heavier than it had any right to be–and then turned without any parting
words.
+20 Bonus
I stood still, watching him vanish behind the terrace archway, swallowed by the velvet dark. I waited for a long while before I
went down from the rooftop garden, afraid that he could still be around.
As I finally walked toward the elevator, I believed everything was fine. I thought I had left without any emotions.
Until a soft voice broke through the quiet. “Miss… are you okay?”
I gasped, looking up. A young waiter stood nearby, holding an empty tray to his chest, staring at me with great concern.
That’s when I noticed.
The cool trail down my cheeks. The sting in my eyes.
I’d been crying–and I hadn’t even realized it.
