Lucian had once been untouchable. A man who commanded boardrooms with a single look, who made billion-dollar deals over coffee like it was nothing.

Now? He barely looked human.

He sat in his pristine, too-grand-for-one-man dining room, unshaven, shirt half-buttoned, dark hair too long and curling at the ends. His beard? Borderline feral. And the whiskey in his grip? That was his new personality.

Across from him, Marcus Langley adjusted his tie, looking one broken glass away from quitting.

“Sir, the board is requesting an update. They’re growing uneasy with your—” Marcus hesitated, eyeing the half-empty bottle of Macallan. “—prolonged absence.”

Lucian lifted his glass lazily. “Tell them I’m alive.”

“That won’t be enough.”

Lucian turned his blind gaze in his assistant’s direction, unfazed. “Then tell them to choke on their unease.”

Marcus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Sir, if you’d just let me handle things—”

Crash.

Lucian slammed his glass down hard enough to rattle the dishes. “I am handling things,” he snapped. “By not giving a damn.”

Marcus exhaled, but before he could respond, something… strange filled the air.

Not whiskey.

Not regret.

Something warm. Something that smelled suspiciously like… food.

Lucian stiffened. “What the hell is that smell?”

Marcus glanced toward the kitchen. “Breakfast.”

Lucian scoffed. “Since when do the staff cook at this hour?”

Before Marcus could answer, soft footsteps moved across the marble floors.

Lucian turned his head toward the sound, brows furrowing. The scent—whatever it was—grew stronger, followed by the faint clink of ceramic against the table.

Then a voice. Her voice.

“Morning.”

Lucian’s entire body went rigid.

Marcus took an instinctive step back, bracing for impact.

Lucian exhaled slowly. “What the hell is this?”

“A meal,” Celeste said easily, pulling out a chair across from him. “People tend to eat them.”

Lucian didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Instead, he listened.

The chair’s quiet scrape. The rustle of fabric as she sat down. The way the room adjusted to her presence, like it had been waiting for her.

His fingers tightened around his glass.

“You expect me to believe you suddenly know how to cook?”

Celeste hesitated. Damn it. The real Vivian probably didn’t even know where the stove was in this house.

She forced a shrug. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

Lucian let out a rough, humorless laugh.

Then, before she could react, he moved.

His hand shot out, latching onto her wrist.

Celeste’s breath caught.

His grip wasn’t painful, just… unshakable.

Lucian’s jaw tensed as he tilted his head slightly, his blind gaze too sharp for someone who supposedly couldn’t see.

“You feel different,” he muttered.

Celeste’s pulse slammed against her ribs.

Too sharp. Too dangerous. Too close.

“You’re imagining things,” she said evenly.

Lucian didn’t move.

Didn’t let go.

Didn’t even breathe.

Marcus cleared his throat, loudly. “Sir, the company—”

“Enough,” Lucian snapped, finally releasing her. He leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Get out. Both of you.”

Marcus shot Celeste a look—you’re playing with fire.

Yeah.

She knew.

She just didn’t have a choice.

Celeste squared her shoulders, refusing to let the weight of Lucian’s scowl sink her.

“I’m not leaving you again,”

The lie sat bitter on her tongue, but she swallowed it down like medicine, keeping her spine straight, her chin up. She wouldn’t back down. Not now.

Lucian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You really expect me to believe that, huh?” His voice dropped lower, edged with something dark. “After all this time? Because that would be funny,”

Her pulse thrummed against her ribs, but she didn’t waver. Didn’t blink. “Believe what you want. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Silence stretched between them, taut and humming.

Lucian’s blind gaze flicked toward her, sharp despite the fact that he couldn’t see. Searching. For cracks. For weakness. For proof that she wasn’t who she claimed to be.

Celeste held her ground. She’d spent too long perfecting a voice that wasn’t hers, a persona built on half-truths and necessity. If there was one thing she was good at, it was making people believe a lie.

Lucian shook his head, exhaustion creeping into his features. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want.”

It wasn’t acceptance. It was resignation.

Celeste exhaled slowly. Another day survived.

Across the room, Emelia watched.

Her posture was perfect, her legs crossed elegantly, but her fingers tapped against the polished wood of the table in an uneven rhythm—the only sign of her displeasure.

She waited until Lucian had gone silent, until the conversation settled into the air like dust, before leaning toward Marcus. “She will ruin him,” she murmured.

Marcus didn’t answer. He wasn’t a fool.

But Celeste heard it. Every syllable.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. She simply picked up Lucian’s barely-touched plate and carried it into the kitchen, her heartbeat steady—even as the truth pressed like a weight against her ribs.

Later that night, Celeste wandered the halls of the Aldridge estate, the sheer emptiness of it stretching around her like a warning.

The house was too big. Too quiet. A place built for grand parties and celebrations—now reduced to a tomb.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And Emelia knew it.

Which is why, when Celeste passed by the study and caught sight of a stack of papers on Emelia’s desk, she hesitated.

The papers weren’t neat. They’d been rifled through, edges curled, frustration lingering in the disorder.

A name at the top of the first page snagged her attention.

Aldridge Estate Caregiver Applications.

The air turned cold.

One page. Then another. A dozen names. Different applicants.

Replacements.

Celeste’s stomach knotted.

A bitter laugh nearly escaped, but she swallowed it down. Of course.

Emelia had never wanted her here. Poor. Orphaned. Disposable. She’d tolerated Celeste’s presence for one reason—because Lucian needed someone to manage him. And Celeste, fool that she was, had been willing to step into the role.

But now?

Now, Lucian was beginning to trust her.

And that made her a threat.

Celeste’s fingers curled around the edge of the papers, her nails digging into the fine stationery. Emelia was already planning her exit.

The realization sent a slow burn through her veins, hot and searing.

But she forced herself to breathe. To calm.

If Emelia wanted her gone, she was going to have to drag her out of here.

Celeste lifted her chin, turned on her heel, and walked away.

Game on.

———

It wasn’t hard to find the list.

Celeste hadn’t been looking for it, but secrets had a way of finding her.

Late that night, she had been walking past the study, trying to shake off the heavy, lingering weight of Lucian’s presence, when something on Emelia’s desk caught her eye.

A neat stack of papers, crisp and recent.

She frowned. Emelia was obsessive about tidiness. But the edges were slightly curled, like they had been thumbed through multiple times in frustration.

Celeste hesitated. Then, moving on instinct, she stepped closer.

Aldridge Estate Caregiver Applications.

Her stomach twisted.

She flipped through the pages, her hands tightening with each new name. One after another. A dozen. Maybe more.

Emelia wasn’t just considering replacing her. She was actively searching for someone new.

Celeste exhaled through her nose, forcing the sting of betrayal out of her chest. Of course Emelia was doing this.

She had never wanted Celeste here. Poor. Orphaned. Desperate. She had tolerated her presence only because Lucian needed someone to manage him, to control his downward spiral.

But now?

Now, Celeste was doing more than just keeping him alive.

She was getting through to him. And that made her a threat.

Her fingers curled around the pages, her pulse pounding in her ears.

So this is how it was going to be.

Fine.

Celeste carefully set the papers back in place, smoothing them as if she had never touched them.

She wasn’t stupid enough to confront Emelia outright. Not yet.

If Emelia wanted her gone, she was going to have to drag her out of here.

Because Celeste wasn’t leaving.

Not until she got what she came for.