Chapter 26
The sound of heels clicking against marble cut through the murmur of the employee section. Heads turned toward the glass entrance where a scene was unfolding.
Celeste Marigny stood there like she owned the entire floor. A short, skin-tight leather designer gown clung to her frame, paired with stiletto heels that struck the ground with sharp authority. A snow-white fur coat draped dramatically over her shoulders, platinum
blonde hair falling in perfect sleek strands. Oversized shades perched on her head, and in her manicured hand dangled a glossy lunchbox designer, of course, because even food had to look expensive in her world.
The security guards had clearly tried to block her, but she was not one to be denied. Her voice carried, sharp and venom-laced:
"Do you know who I am? I can get you all fired!"
The chaos froze for only a heartbeat before Sebastian moved. With that effortless calm of his, he stepped forward, his smirk curving like this was part of the show. He gave a light tap to Kairen's shoulder
mock gentleness and turned to the staff.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
Sebastian said, his voice smooth as silk, "please welcome Nu-Nu with open arms. Teach him what he needs to know. Let's not repay evil with evil, hmm?"
The words dripped with a false kindness, each syllable twisting the knife deeper. He didn't have to say more; everyone understood what he really meant.
And then he walked away, cutting through the tense silence like a king to his queen, making his way toward Celeste, whose fury only softened when she saw him approach.
But behind him, Kairen remained. Exposed. Alone.
A storm of dagger-stares fell on him. The same colleagues who had once smiled politely now let their disgust show. Mutters rippled through the room, harsh whispers that stung sharper than open insults.
"Middleman? Let's see how long he lasts."
"New boy thinks he's special."
"He'll learn. We'll stress him out until he cracks."
The ridicule swelled, indirect jabs tossed casually as people turned back to their desks. But their laughter, their smirks—it was unbearable.
Kairen's throat tightened. His chest burned. The humiliation was too heavy to bear. And then, before the heat in his eyes could spill, he broke. He spun on his heel and bolted, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until he vanished into the restroom.
Julian reacted before thought could even catch him. His chair scraped sharply against the floor as he stood.
"Julian!" Elodie's hand shot out, her eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Don't. If you side with him, everyone will hate you too."
But Julian shook her off. His jaw tightened, his expression firm. Without a single word, he was already pacing after Kairen, leaving behind the heavy hum of gossip that filled the employee section.
Elodie leaned back in her chair, lips curling into a wicked grin. "So predictable," she muttered, watching him disappear up the stairs.
The security guard tried to steady her at the threshold, firm but polite.
"Miss, I'm sorry, you can't"
Celeste flinched back, eyes wide with outrage. "Don't touch me," she hissed, stepping away like he carried disease. "Do you even know who I am? Do not stain me with your filthy hands."
The guard stiffened, apologetic yet unmoving. "Ma'am, I'm just doing my job."
Her lips curved into a dangerous smirk. "I've marked your face. When I become Madame de la Croix, you'll be the first one I fire. Consider your days numbered."
Before the man could respond, a voice slid into the air behind them. Deep. Controlled.
"What's going on here?"
Sebastian.
Celeste's eyes lit up, instantly shifting gears. She shoved past the guard without hesitation, storming toward Sebastian with theatrical flourish.
"Sebby!"
she gasped, wrapping her arms around him as though he were a long-lost lover. The security man was dismissed with a mere flick of Sebastian's hand, vanishing like an afterthought.
Celeste pressed a kiss to Sebastian's mouth, glossy and deliberate. He didn't return it. His face remained unreadable, his body stiff beneath her cling.
"Celeste," he said coolly, peeling her arms away with subtle firmness. "What are you doing here?"
She sighed, dramatic as ever, her fur coat slipping slightly down her shoulders as though to punctuate the moment. "You don't even miss me anymore."
Sebastian exhaled, head shaking faintly. "I'm not ready for this right now."
But Celeste brushed past him, pivoting with calculated grace. "Well, I brought you lunch." She lifted the package in her hand, her eyes catching on the opulent décor of the lobby as though she hadn't seen it a hundred times before.
Sebastian turned after her, a fleeting crack in his mask. "That was… thoughtful." The words were automatic, but inside, he braced himself. Guilt tugged at him—guilt for last night, for using her as a salve against the jealousy burning him over Kairen. She would think it meant something more. He knew it. And for that reason alone, he told himself he had to be careful—gentle, even.
Celeste wandered with manufactured wonder, gazing up at the gilded ceilings, fingertips grazing the marble walls as though she were a guest. Then she turned, smile flashing, eyes bright with expectation. "Let's go to your office and eat there."
Sebastian nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to pass for indulgence. She slid her arm through his, triumphant. Together they walked toward the elevators, the perfect public picture: a man of power and his dazzling lover.
Inside, though, Sebastian's mind was elsewhere—his arm locked, his smile practiced, his heart miles away.
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The boutique was humming with its usual afternoon rhythm. Customers strolled between racks of carefully spaced dresses, some lingering at the mirror with fabrics pressed against their bodies, others laughing as Amara spun stories to match each outfit she handed them. The sunlight poured through the front glass window, catching the sequins on one mannequin's gown so that it sparkled like water. Amara was at her best—entertaining, confident, alive.
Then her smile faltered.
Outside the glass, just beyond the mannequin's glossy arm, she spotted him. Larry.
Her jaw tightened. The nerve of that man. She excused herself from a pair of giggling customers, muttering under her breath as she stormed toward the door. Of all the days, of all the streets… he has the audacity to stand here? She pushed the door open with a dramatic swing, arms already crossed, eyes flashing.
Larry noticed her immediately and, in a clumsy rush, crossed the road to meet her.
"Good afternoon, Amara" he began, voice far too polite for the history they shared.
Amara cut him off, her words sharp and merciless.
"Nigga, what the hell are you doing here?"
Larry blinked, caught off guard, but tried again, softer this time. "Is Kairen here? I've been calling him"
"Kairen is not here," Amara snapped, each word fired like a bullet. "He's at a better job now, living a better life without you. Leave the boy alone." Her lip curled in disgust. "Go keep fucking with your blonde bitch. The boy has broken up with you. Let. Him. Be."
Larry froze. Inside, panic flared. How the hell does she know about Celeste? He scrambled to cover his tracks. "Amara, you've got it wrong"
"Don't play dumb with me, Larry. Or is it Larray now?" Her voice dripped with mockery. "Whichever name you're calling yourself these days, it doesn't matter. What matters is you staying the hell away from Kairen. You used to beat him up—are you mad he finally moved on?"
Larry's mouth opened but no sound came out.
Amara leaned forward, her finger pointed square at his chest. "Listen, if I see you close to Kairen again, I'll call the cops on you. Go back to that mean blonde bitch you're clinging to and tell her this: the girl she kicked out of that gala? Yeah, she's doing just fine."
She turned on her heel, her curls bouncing as she headed for the boutique door. For a moment, Larry thought she was done. Then she paused, pivoted slowly back, and delivered one last strike.
"I still wonder how you managed to pull someone like that. Trust me—she's fucking richer men behind your back."
With that, Amara yanked the glass door shut. The sharp slam echoed down the street. Through the window, Larry could see her smiling at her customers again, laughing, moving as if nothing had happened at all.
Larry stayed frozen for a moment on the pavement, fists curling at his sides, his jaw locked. Then he nodded slowly to himself, his eyes narrowing with silent determination.
He turned and began to walk away.
But the tension in his shoulders told the truth—Larry wasn't giving up. Not yet.