Chapter 29
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV…
They told me not to wear white. Too soft, they said Too forgiving Too bridal. But I didn’t wear it for them. I wore it because I could. Because there’s nothing louder than a woman in white who has nothing left to prove. The gown was sleek, structured, no embellishments. Just satin wrapped like armor around every scar they gave me.
When I walked into that ballroom, flanked by the man who stood beside me when it all burned, the world didn’t whisper. It froze. No music. No chatter. Just an audible inhale, as if the entire room forgot how to breathe. Good. Let them choke on it. Damon’s hand rested lightly against my back as we walked toward the stage. It wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t decorative. It was steady.
And when we reached the podium, he leaned in and murmured just loud enough for me to hear, “They’re not ready for what you’re about to do.”
I didn’t smile. Just whispered back, “They weren’t ready for me the first time either.”
He stepped aside, taking his place behind me, not in my shadow, but on my flank. A general. A partner. The mic was mine. And this time, no one dared to interrupt.
“I’ve had a lot of names in this company,” I began, voice smooth but firm. “Some were titles I earned. Some were insults I outlived. But the one that followed me the longest wasn’t official.” I paused.
“Invisible.” I heard a shuffle in the back row. Someone swallowed hard.
“I’ve been called unfit. Too young. Too bold. Too quiet. Too much. I’ve been told to smile more. To wait my turn. To soften. To sit.” My gaze swept the crowd, pausing on the ones who’d smiled in my face and doubted me behind glass doors.
“But I didn’t sit. I stood. I stood through being overlooked. Through being framed. Through every headline that tried to shame me. Through every man who thought power was his by default.”
I scanned the front row. Damon’s eyes locked on mine. Proud. Focused. Alive. And just past him… Rhys. Still. Pale. Watching me like I was the last page of a book he never finished. I didn’t look away. I faced him head-on when I said it.
“They tried to destroy me from the inside out. But what they didn’t realize was that I was rebuilt in the fire they lit.” The room held its breath. Then I let mine out slowly.
“Tonight is not about revenge. It’s not about proving them wrong. I did that the moment I walked back through those doors.” A ripple of murmurs. I leaned in, voice colder now, like steel beneath satin.
“Tonight is about claiming what’s mine. Without apology. Without permission. Without asking one more man if I’m allowed to be enough.” I stepped back slightly. Let the silence hold. Let them squirm. Let them feel the weight I’d carried for years.
“I am not your PR campaign. I am not your scapegoat. And I am not his mistake.” I turned my gaze to Rhysagain, and this time, he looked away first.
“I am the CEO of Monroe Industries.”
My voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Because truth doesn’t need volume. It just needs space. And tonight, I owned all of it. Applause didn’t erupt, it exploded. Not polite. Not obligated. Earned. I stood still through it. Hands by my side. Head high. Shoulders squared like the crown already sat there. But I wasn’t listening to the claps. I was listening to the sound of legacy shifting.
Damon stepped beside me, his voice low. “You didn’t just silence them.” I turned to him.
“You rewrote the script.”
I nodded once. “And burned the old one.”
Later, I stepped into the hallway alone. White gown trailing behind me. Applause fading behind thick gold doors. Damon followed a few steps behind, letting me lead.
“You know,” he said, catching up, “you wore black the night you were underestimated.”
I glanced over at him. “And tonight?”
“You wore white,” he said. “And no one questioned who you were.”
I looked at my reflection in the marble. Not the girl from the mailroom. Not the ex-wife. Not the placeholder.
