CHAPTER TWO: FATEFUL MEETING
The sun was barely up.
The city still had that early morning hush — the quiet just before the chaos. Celeste Grayson stepped out of her penthouse apartment, black stilettos clicking crisply against the marble floor of the lobby. Her tailored suit was sharp as ever, dark grey with a silk blouse tucked perfectly beneath. Her long hair, still in soft waves from last night's event, framed her face as she walked with purpose toward her car.
Work never waited.
Even after winning the biggest business award in the city, she had meetings scheduled before 8 a.m. Sharp. No celebrations, no late sleep-ins, no distractions.
That's how she liked it.
Her driver opened the door, and she slipped inside the backseat of her sleek black Lexus. Just as she began reviewing her schedule on the tablet, her phone buzzed beside her.
"Mom "
Celeste blinked, surprised. Her thumb hovered over the answer button.
Her adopted mother rarely called this early. A sense of unease passed through her, quick but sharp.
She answered.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was soft, familiar, and far too cheerful for 6:30 a.m.
"We'll meet again this afternoon, Celeste."
There was a pause.
"Wait—what?" Celeste asked, sitting up straighter. "What do you mean? Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes, of course, my dear. But we'll talk later. Around noon. It's important."
The line went dead.
Celeste stared at the phone, frowning. She knew her adopted mother well. The woman had a flair for dramatics — that, and pulling little stunts when she felt Celeste was working herself too hard. But still, something about her tone had sounded strange.
"Turn around," Celeste told her driver. "Head to Westbridge Hospital."
He didn't ask questions. He simply nodded and changed course.
---
Celeste stormed into the private hospital room, heels echoing with each determined step. Her face was set in stone, her brows drawn with concern. She pushed open the door.
"Mom?"
The woman sitting on the bed blinked once, then broke into a wide grin. She was wearing a silk headscarf and sipping juice like it was a spa day.
"Surprise!" she sang out.
Celeste blinked. She quickly scanned the monitors. Everything was normal. No alerts. No nurses rushing in.
Her adopted mother beamed at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"You look like you were about to faint," she said, clearly pleased with herself.
Celeste exhaled hard and crossed her arms.
"You brought me to a hospital for a prank?"
"Not a prank. A test. To see if my daughter still has a heart." She paused, holding up a finger. "And you passed. Barely."
Celeste groaned and dropped into the chair beside the bed.
"You scared me."
Her mother's smile softened.
"You know I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye properly."
Then she leaned in, eyes dancing.
"And since you're already here, I have something planned for you today."
Celeste narrowed her eyes.
"Oh no. Not again."
"Yes, again. You're going on a date."
Celeste groaned louder this time, covering her face with her hands.
"Please no blind dates. The last one asked if I wanted to invest in his crypto startup five minutes after the appetizers."
"That one was a fluke." She waved it off.
**"But this one… this one's special. You're going. I already booked the table. And I told him you'd be there at 5 p.m. sharp."
Celeste stared at her mother. And for the first time that morning, her expression softened.
"Wait… how did you know today's my birthday?"
Her mother looked genuinely surprised.
"How could I not? I raised you, remember?"
Celeste swallowed hard. Her voice barely came out.
"No one ever remembers."
The older woman reached out and held her hand.
"Because you don't let them close enough to remember."
Silence hung between them. Then her mother squeezed her fingers.
"But I'll always remember. Happy birthday, Celeste."
Something in Celeste's chest tightened. Her throat burned slightly. She blinked a few times to keep anything from falling.
"You're the only one who ever says that to me."
"Then I guess I'll have to keep saying it every year."
They both smiled. It was a rare moment — one where Celeste let her walls drop just for a second. Only her mother could do that.
Then she pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.
"I'll go on the blind date…" she started.
Her mother's eyes lit up.
"—but only if you promise to take your medication. Every dose. No skipping. No pretending you forgot."
Her mother wrinkled her nose.
"That's not fair."
"It is."
They stared at each other.
Then her mother sighed.
"Fine. I'll take it. But you better not bail."
Celeste raised her hand in mock oath.
"Cross my heart."
---
5:10 p.m.
La Serene, Cityview District
Celeste stepped into the restaurant, heels clicking gently against the marble floors. The place was stunning — a rooftop setting with hanging lights, gold-rimmed glasses, and floor-length white curtains swaying gently with the breeze. The smell of freshly grilled steak, roses, and Italian spices filled the air.
She glanced around.
Empty.
Strange.
She checked her phone. No messages. No calls. Maybe the guy was late. Or maybe — she smirked — he'd Googled her and decided she was too intimidating to handle.
Wouldn't be the first time.
A waiter in a crisp uniform approached her.
"Good evening. May I help you?"
"Yes. A reservation. It should be under…" She paused. "…Celeste Grayson."
The waiter tilted his head.
"Actually… the only reservation we have at this hour is under a Mr. Damian."
Celeste frowned.
"That's… not who I'm meeting."
The waiter scratched his head.
"He reserved the entire top section. Would you like to wait by the window? Perhaps your guest will arrive shortly."
She glanced around again. The idea of waiting alone in this kind of restaurant, on her birthday, for another disappointing stranger didn't exactly excite her. But she sighed and nodded.
"Fine. I'll sit."
The waiter led her up a few steps to a quiet section of the terrace. It was peaceful — the sunset casting gold across the glass windows, the city glowing below.
She slipped into her seat, adjusted her purse, and reached for her phone. Maybe she'd just order dessert and leave. At least the ambiance was nice.
Just as she opened her messaging app, a shadow crossed the table.
"You're in my seat."
The voice was smooth.
Familiar.
Celeste looked up.
The man standing before her was tall. Impeccably dressed in black. His eyes were intense, cold but curious. His face — flawless, like it was sculpted by some cruel god with too much time.
He looked at her like he was studying a puzzle.
Like she was a mistake.
She blinked.
He didn't move.
"Who are you?" Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.
---
End of Chapter 2.