CHAPTER 28
Celeste’s POV
The bar was dimly lit and the air was tinged with the stale scent of spilled whiskey and forgotten regrets. People spoke in hushed
tones, but none of it registered. The world felt muted, like it was trying not to disturb me.
I sat alone at the counter, the amber liquid in my glass almost all gone. It burned going down–but that was the point.
Alcohol was the best anesthetic. It numbed the ache in my chest, dulled the sharp sting of memories I wasn’t ready to confront.
It’s over, damn it. The marriage. The façade. The illusion that maybe, just maybe, he’d come to love me.
I had given everything to that man. And in return, he’d given me humiliation.
My god! The betrayal and accusations… The imprisonment in that goddamn asylum like I was something to be hidden and left to
suffer and rot
I’d looked down at my own trembling hands once and seen blood. My blood. A quiet scream for help no one ever heard.
Back then, I promised myself–if I ever got out, I would cut him out of my life completely.
And today… I finally had.
So why did my chest still feel like it was caving in? Why the hell did it still hurt?
Logically, I didn’t regret the divorce. I knew it had been the only choice left–the right one.
But emotionally? I felt like a house gutted from the inside out. I’d escaped that suffocating marriage, yet somewhere along the way, I’d lost something too.
And now… Damien was free. Free to be with Genevieve. To build the life everyone thought they deserved. The perfect couple, they
called them.
I downed the rest of my drink and signaled the bartender for another..
Just as I was about to sink deeper into the haze–into that warm, muffled silence that dulled everything–I heard something.
“Celeste?…Is that you?”
Faint. Distant.
I wasn’t sure if I imagined it. But then–everything faded to black
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my bed.
My mind was a haze of static and sluggish thoughts. The soft sheets clung to me like a second skin, unfamiliar and somehow too
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clean. I blinked, trying to remember how I got here. The bar. The drink. The crushing weight in my chest. Someone calling my
name…
Wait–what happened last night?
I sat up too fast. A dull ache pulsed in my temples. My room swam for a second before settling back into focus. I was definitely in
my own bed, in Auntie Eleanor’s apartment.
But the faint clinking of porcelain and the smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled me back to the present. I wasn’t alone.
Heart leaping into my throat, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded softly to the hallway.
And there–standing in my kitchen, still wearing her signature oversized hoodie and plaid pajama pants like no time had passed
was Harper Lin.
at all.
I blinked. “Harper?”
She turned with a bright smile, holding up a mug, “Well, look who finally decided to wake up.
Shock rooted me in pl
in place. “What are you doing here?”
Harper gave me a look that only she could pull off–equal parts sass and exasperation. “You really think I’d let you get blackout drunk in some hole–in–the–wall bar and not drag your sorry ass home?”
She crossed the room and handed me the coffee before nudging me toward a chair like it was ten years ago again and we were
back in our college dorm.
“I” My voice faltered. “You were there?”
Harper sank into the seat across from me, propping her elbows on the table. “By total chance. I was in town visiting a few clients and went out for a quick drink. And then I saw you, Celeste.” Her smile faded. “You looked like you were trying to disappear.
“Honestly, I don’t remember anything after the second drink.‘
“Yeah,” she said gently. “I figured.” She then approached me and gave my hand a little squeeze. “So what happened?”
I stared at her, emotions jamming my throat, “… Just that… Damien and I finalized our divorce, and I know it’s what I want and
need, but…”
Harper’s voice was quiet. “It still hurts?” she asked.
Tears stung my eyes as I nodded. “So much has happened, and he’s done a lot of hurtful things to me… I just want to move on.
She gave me a sad smile, and her eyes lit up with understanding. Back in college, she was always my anchor. After graduation, she moved to another city, chasing her dreams in digital production. She became a rising star, producing viral campaigns and high- profile collaborations. We drifted apart, as people do.
But now she was here. At a time when I felt more alone than ever.
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I let out a long, shaky breath. “You always had the worst timing, you know.”
Harper smirked. “Or maybe the best.”
She gave me a hug, and I could feel the pain dissipating a little. “Thanks for being here now, Harper.”
“I’ve seen the headlines,” she said, her tone calm but clipped. “Every one of them. The scandals. The so–called ‘late–night tryst.” The resurfaced video. The so–called cheating wife narrative they’ve built around you…‘
I looked
away, shame rising in my stomach even though I knew I had no reason to feel any.
“Celeste, that’s not you. I don’t believe a word of it.” Her words brought more tears to my eyes.
“But here’s what bothers me,” Harper continued, leaning forward with that familiar sharp glint in her eyes–the same one she
used to get when she smelled a story. “The speed of it. The way it spread. The precision. Celeste, this wasn’t just gossip gaining traction. It was fed. Engineered.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean someone is pushing this,” she said firmly. “I work in media–I know the signs. These rumors didn’t go viral because
they were juicy. They went viral because someone paid to make sure they did.”
My breath caught.
Someone… orchestrated this?
Her gaze darkened. “It’s targeted. Designed to bury you. Whoever’s behind it knew exactly what to do and where to hit you
hardest. And that’s not just cruel–it’s personal.”
A cold clarity settled over me. Of course. Of course this wasn’t just bad luck.
Genevieve.
Who else would know me well enough to dismantle my reputation plece by piece?
My jaw tightened. “I won’t let them win.”
Harper’s grin widened. “That’s my girl.”
We quickly began sketching out a plan. Harper would dig into the sources of the rumors, trace who was benefiting, and use her media contacts to quietly flip the narrative. She knew which strings to pull and how to play the long game.
As for me, I had my own card to play.
“I’ll be attending a banquet soon,” I told her. “Big names, media presence. It’s the perfect place to plant a new impression.”
Her eyes sparkled with wicked delight. “Perfect. Let me stir up a little trouble, then. Make sure they start playing defense for
al
once
A small, fierce smile curled at the edge of my lips.
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Before leaving, I headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. My heels clicked softly on the tile as I approached the sink.
g to my lashes and slid down
I splashed cold water on my face, letting it chase away the last remnants of exhaustion. Droplets clung my cheekbones.
I stared at my reflection for a long moment
There was no more room for fear. No space left for second chances or shattered dreams.
Only forward.
re You!
“Look forward,” I whispered. You can’t love him anymore. You have to forget him.
Twould rise–not just to survive. But to win.
To destroy the ones who broke me. To take back everything that had been stolen from me.
And I wouldn’t stop until I made them feel every ounce of what they’d made me endure.
Damien and Genevieve. They thought they’d shattered me. But they’d only awakened something far more dangerous.
This was war. And I would not stop until I’d watched them fall
