CHAPTER 24
Celeste’s POV
Theo’s words hung between us heavily. I won’t leave you again.
I wasn’t prepared for them.
I had always known Theo as my rock–the steady, dependable presence who had once been my closest friend. But something
about the way he said those words now made my breath catch.
room for doubt.
There was no hesitation, no room
I met his gaze, and for the first time, I realized something had changed. Or maybe… it had always been there, and I had been too
blind to see it.
The way he looked at me now intensely, like I was the only thing that mattered
was different.
Too different.
My heart began to beat crazily. What’s going on?
Had I misread him all these years? Or was it just now that I was truly seeing him?
My pulse became a bit erratic, my emotions beginning to get tangled in knots. This was unfamiliar territory for me.
But then, he moved past me, setting a bag down on the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries wafting into the
air. He had come prepared, as always.
“Celeste, I know you think you have to face this on your own… but I can’t just stand by while the world tries to tear you apart.” He opened his mouth to say something more, and I could feel my heart pounding harder.
However, to my relief, he casually began sipping his coffee. “So… have you thought about the gala? Come on, Celeste, you know
it’ll be a big break for you.”
Theo—
into the b
“You don’t have to say yes right now,” he interrupted, reaching into the bag and pulling out a croissant. He placed it in my hands. before I could protest. “But at least eat while you think about it.”
T exhaled, staring at him with a puzzled expression on my face.
Whatever that moment had been just now, whatever I had seen in his eyes… I wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet.
So instead, I bit into the croissant and let the conversation shift.
And Theo, ever patient, let me pretend like nothing had changed.
leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching me carefully as I chewed in silence, He wasn’t going to push me–he
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never did. But I could see the determination in his eyes, the quiet insistence that had always been his way of getting through to
- me.
“This gala isn’t just another event, Celeste,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s a gateway. The people attending aren’t just rich socialites–they’re the ones who shape industries. Investors, media moguls, fashion elites.”
I could feel my mouth opening in awe, even just listening to him.
He continued, his tone measured but firm. “Sebastian Moreau will be there.”
I nearly choked on my bite of croissant.
Sebastian Moreau was one of the most influential fashion critics in the industry and a luxury brand investor with a portfolio worth billions.
She wasn’t just a powerful name–but the kind of people who could change a designer’s entire career with a single endorsement.
“Theo, that’s-“Thesitated, shaking my head. “I’m not ready for something like this.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You are.”
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “Even if I go, I don’t even know what I’d wear. It’s not like I have a closet full of designer gowns waiting for me.”
Theo’s smirk deepened. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
I frowned. “What?”
“You have something better than any overpriced, mass–produced designer gown,” he said simply. “You have your creation. The dress you designed.”
I stared at him, momentarily thrown.
He wasn’t talking about just any dress. He meant that dress–the one I had painstakingly sketched, sewn, and poured my soul into before my entire life had been ripped apart. It had been meant for another time, another version of me. A Celeste who still
had dreams that felt within reach.
“That dress… it’s been packed away for months,” I murmured, more to myself than him
Theo p
pushed off the counter and took a step closer. “Then it’s time to bring it back.” His voice lowered, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “This gala is your chance, Celeste. You can either hide in the shadows, let the headlines define you or you can walk in
there, wearing your own damn masterpiece, and remind everyone who the hell you ar
I swallowed hard, staring up at him.
The intensity in his words shook something loose inside me–something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.
Hope.
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But it also terrified me.
I wanted to believe him, to believe that I could step back into the world and reclaim my place. But what if I wasn’t strong enough? What if this was just another disaster waiting to happen?
Theo must have seen the conflict in my eyes because he softened, his voice losing its edge but not its conviction.
“You don’t have to decide now,” he said. “Just… think about it.”
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak.
Tell me something, Celeste.”
I glanced at him warily. “What?”
He set his cup down and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Forget the scandals, forget the past, forget Damien.” His voice was calm. “If none of this had happened–if you were given the chance to build the career you’ve always wanted–what would it look like?”
I hesitated, my fingers absently tracing the rim of my cup. It had been so long since someone asked me that. Since I had let myself
dream.
Theo gave me time. He didn’t push, didn’t rush. He just waited.
Finally, I exhaled. “I want… to create designs that make people feel something.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but I felt the weight of my words. “I don’t want to just make clothes–I want to craft stories through fabric. I want to see my designs on runways, in editorials, on people who believe in them as much as I do.”
I swallowed, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I want to prove that I’m more than just Damien Vaughn’s ex–wife.”
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Theo’s lips. “Then you already have your answer, Celeste.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, to push back, to tell him that it wasn’t that simple–but before I could say anything, my phone buzzed.
The name on the screen made my stomach drop.
Damien.
With a deep breath, I picked up the call. “What do you want, Damien?”
“I need to talk to you about the divorce,” he said matter–of–factly, making my heart jump to my throat.
