Chapter 20
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV…
I almost didn’t make it in time. Good thing Damon and I finished just before they called me on stage.
I remembered how we rushed to get dressed, how Damon helped me zip up my dress, wiped the smudge off my lipstick, dabbed the sweat from my neck. That’s why I was smirking the whole time I stood on stage. My eyes found him in the crowd, still sweating, his shirt buttons uneven. Hilarious.
Anyway, I’m not here to think about sex. I need to prove something. My eyes roamed around with hundreds of people here at this big party. Well…I should introduce myself properly and address the headline circulating around. This is my last agenda for tonight.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s what the room thought. What the press whispered. What the board muttered behind frosted glass as if ambition didn’t have ears. But I stood under those chandeliers anyway, red silk clinging like armor, chin lifted like I’d been born on that stage. The mic buzzed once. I didn’t flinch.
“Good evening,” I said, and just like that, the room forgot how to breathe. “I used to think power came from being invited to the table,” I said, eyes sharp, voice smooth as steel. “Turns out, you can build the damn table yourself.” That earned a few tight smiles. Empty gestures. So I sharpened the knife.
“I’ve been called a PR puppet. A strategic heir. A placeholder. A woman in red, dressing up numbers to make the press swoon.” Now the champagne didn’t taste as crisp. I scanned the crowd. Eyes ducked. Throats cleared.
“But I’m not here for their comfort. I’m here because I’ve delivered results, quietly, efficiently, while the men you once trusted burned this company from the inside.” I paused, then delivered the line that cut deepest.
“Sometimes you have to be discarded… to realize you were gold all along.” The applause didn’t thunder. It rose. Like they couldn’t help it.
I said nothing more, no bow, no grin. Just a simple: “Thank you.” But across the room, one face wasn’t clapping. Rhys. Pal, and frozen. Like he’d just realized the greatest thing he ever lost wasn’t a contract. It was me. I just rolled my eyes and ignored him. While Damon Ashcroft, I saw the satisfaction in his eyes. He clapped slowly in front of me, praising me silently. I playfully flipped my hair, telling him that I fan manage. It should be enough for tonight, hoping that no one comes in my way, or even ruined this day after Rhys.
Unfortunately, there are still those who want to pissed me off. When the crowd thinned, I made for the exit until I saw them. Vivian and Bianca Carrington. Venom in couture.
“Well,” Vivian said coolly, “someone’s enjoying her fifteen minutes.”
Bianca’s smirk twisted. “Don’t get too cozy in Daddy’s chair, sweetheart. Those same men clapping will rip you to shreds the second the stock dips.” I stopped, turned. My voice? Calm. But no one mistook it for kindness.
“You think I don’t know that?” I asked. “I counted on it. Men like that underestimate women like me. But they forget, we know how to survive being underestimated.”
Vivian stepped forward, tone faux-genteel. “Celene, a little respect would do you good. You’re standing on our legacy. You’d do well to show some grace.” I tilted my head.
“Oh? Is that what this is? You want grace now? After backing a spoiled parasite like her for a decade?”
Bianca bristled. “Excuse me?”
“No, Bianca,” I said, stepping closer, “you’re excused. From relevance. From effort. From every room you only entered because someone held the door open for you.”
Bianca’s face flushed, lips twitching in rage. “You’re jealous.”
I actually laughed. “Of what? Your shelf of designer bags and zero accomplishments? You think being an executive’s wife makes you important?” I turned to Vivian.
“This is the daughter-in-law you’re proud of?” I asked, loud enough for the security guard to flinch. “Really? No degrees. No career. Just a hobby in sabotaging women who threaten her pretty little status?”
Vivian’s jaw clenched. “That’s enough.”
“No,” I snapped. “You’re enough. Enough of the entitlement. The nepotism. The manipulation. You built a son who throws away women like receipts and a daughter-in-law who couldn’t spell ‘merit’ if it were written in diamonds.” Bianca made a move forward, but Vivian held her back.
“You think Damon’s any different?” Bianca hissed.
I smirked. “Damon doesn’t need to ‘choose’ me. He stands beside me because he sees who I am. Not because I need fixing. And that,” I leaned in, “is something no man in your family ever understood.”
Just then, Rhys stepped in, eyes blazing. “Enough! All of you, enough.” He turned to his mother. “Mom, stop it. Bianca. Just… don’t.” His voice cracked on the last word. I looked him over once. Just once.
“Too little, too late, Rhys.” Then I turned on my heel. My heels echoed down the marble like war drums. They tried to break me in whispers. Tonight? I broke them in front of everyone. And I didn’t even raise my voice.