Chapter 16
I swallowed hard and added, “I want the whole world to know me. To believe me. To love me loud enough that when Margaret cries again and Hakeem talks about me like I was a ghost that went mad… no one believes them. I want cameras to be my armor. I want every lens to say I’m real. Not weak. Not broken. Just undeniable.”
Cassian didn’t smile. He reached into his coat and handed me a small black box.
Inside was a custom–designed necklace. Sleek. Feminine. Heavy around the edges.
“It’s got a mic and GPS built in,” he said. “The moment anything feels wrong–press the clasp twice. I’ll be there.”
I stared at the necklace, then at him. “You think I’m not safe?”
He lit his cigar again, eyes sharp in the shadows. “I think you’re powerful now. And powerful women attract danger.”
I slipped the necklace on.
And I swore to myself that the next time I freeze… would be the last.
After that freeze incident… I doubled everything.
I woke up earlier than ever, started training with Cassian before the sun even showed its face, and ended my nights memorizing lines until my throat burned and my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore. No excuses. No slowing down. If I broke down, I did it in the shower and wiped it away before anyone saw.
Cassian noticed, of course, but he didn’t say much. Just stood behind me in the gym one morning and said,
“You’re bleeding through every punch, Celeste. But that’s how iron is made. So keep going.”
And I did. I kept going until my knuckles cracked and my body ached and something inside me started… waking up.
Martial arts wasn’t something I ever imagined doing, but now it’s the only time I feel like I’m really in control.
He taught me how to breathe through the panic.
How to take down a man twice my size.
How to slice a throat with a short blade and not flinch.
I remember one night, after a long knife session, I dropped to the mat and Cassian crouched beside me.
“You scared?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good Than let ‘em he scared of you”
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“Good. Then let ‘em be scared of you.”
And they would be.
Because I was gaining weight–real weight. Not the kind that makes you insecure. I was getting strong. My arms could carry Aziel now, no struggle. My body didn’t shake when I punched anymore. I started to look in the mirror and for once… I didn’t hate what I saw.
I didn’t see Harmony.
“You’re starting to look like fire,” Cassian told me one morning while taping my wrists.
“I want to look like vengeance,” I said back.
He smiled and handed me a fresh blade.
“Then stop waiting for it. Be it.”
Aziel, my baby brother, was finally adjusting too. Cassian’s medical team worked miracles
with him. The therapy, the structure, the calm… it made him glow again.
–
One afternoon while I was resting, Aziel sat beside me and showed me a drawing.
It was me–with angel wings and a sword.
“Is this me?” I asked, choking up.
He nodded proudly.
“You’re fighting the monsters. And you win, always.”
“Always?”
“Always,” he whispered, and hugged my arm.
Then the trailer dropped.
It hit the internet like a goddamn grenade.
That opening shot–me walking through smoke, blood on my lip, dress torn, eyes cold–it was everywhere within hours. People started whispering my name.
Celeste.
The “rising Spanish–American actress with no public record.”
“You’re an icon now,” he teased while handing me a cold drink.
“I’m a ghost in a red dress,” I muttered.
He leaned against the doorframe. “Ghosts haunt. You’re about to burn cities down.”
And he was right.
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I scrolled through headlines that night. People wanted to know who I was. Why my eyes looked so haunted. Why every line I delivered felt like a cry from someone who’d survived the impossible.
They didn’t know it was real.
And I didn’t need them to.
I opened my journal, the leather one Cassian gave me. The only place I still wrote as Harmony.
And on a fresh page, I wrote:
“Celeste is who I become to destroy them.”
Then I closed the book.
And smiled.
Because I knew what came next.
MARGARET’S POV
I was curled on the velvet couch with a glass of red in hand, watching the late–night entertainment recap, just trying to forget the day when I saw her.
Her!
At first, it was just background noise. The kind of segment they show after all the serious news is over. Glitzy music, fast cuts, overly dramatic narration.
“Celeste,” the host said, “the breakout star of the upcoming revenge thriller ‘Heirless,‘ stunned the red carpet this weekend in a custom emerald gown. Critics are calling her performance raw and haunting-”
Then the camera panned. And I swear to God… my heart stopped! Fuck.
The wine glass slipped straight from my hand and shattered all over the floor. I didn’t even hear it break. I didn’t breathe. I just stared.
That face. That walk. The way her hand tugged at her dress when she was nervous. The blink. That fucking blink.
“No…” I whispered, standing slowly. “No, no, no, no…”
Then I screamed.
“That’s her! That’s Harmony! Look at her–look at the way she blinks, the way she breathes! She’s haunting me! That bitch is alive!”
Hakeem came storming in, half–asleep, wearing his robe like a damn king who didn’t want to be disturbed.
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“What the hell is this about now, Margaret?” he muttered, already annoyed.
He looked at the screen. Looked at me. Then rolled his eyes.
“She’s gone. You’re overthinking again. Harmony’s probably dead or rotting somewhere in a ditch, baby. Let it go.”
But he didn’t turn off the TV.
He stood there longer than he should have.
His arms were crossed, but I could see it. That flicker in his eyes. The silence. The way his jaw locked when that Celeste girl smiled at the camera.
She smiled the exact same way Harmony did right before she vanished. And I saw it hit him. Just for a second.
