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Once known as the naive and kind-hearted Ava Montague, she was betrayed, framed, and left to die by the very people she trusted most—her fiancé, best friend, and stepmother. But death did not claim her. Instead, a mysterious organization saved her and gave her a new identity: "The Vixen."
With a new face, a new name, and a burning desire for revenge, she returns as Celeste Vauxhall, a woman who plays by no rules but her own. She is no longer the weak, innocent girl she once was—she is now a master manipulator, using charm, intelligence, and deception to dismantle those who wronged her.
But revenge is a double-edged sword. As she gets closer to her targets, she finds herself entangled in a dangerous game of power, love, and deception. And when a mysterious billionaire with secrets of his own enters her life, the lines between vengeance and passion blur. Will she succeed in her mission, or will she lose herself in the very darkness she sought to control?

The Vixen

The next morning, I woke up to the scent of coffee and the hum of city traffic filtering through my hotel window. Sunlight bled through the curtains, casting long golden streaks across my bed. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to exist in the quiet.

Then my phone buzzed, shattering the illusion.

Unknown Number: Breakfast. Hotel rooftop. Now.

I stared at the message, lips curling.

Sliding out of bed, I made quick work of getting ready. A sleek black dress, subtle jewelry, and just enough makeup to look effortless—controlled elegance. If I was going to dance with the devil, I might as well look good doing it.

By the time I stepped onto the rooftop, the morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly baked pastries and expensive cologne.

Damien was already there, seated at a private table overlooking the city, a cup of coffee in hand. He looked up as I approached, his blue eyes sharp and assessing.

"You're punctual," he mused.

"I like to keep people guessing," I said, sliding into the chair opposite him.

A waiter appeared almost immediately, placing a plate of pastries between us before disappearing without a word.

Damien gestured lazily. "Eat. It's not poisoned."

"Good to know," I murmured, though I made no move to take one.

He smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. "You're cautious. I respect that."

"And you're testing me," I countered, leaning back in my chair. "Let's skip the formalities, Damien. You didn't call me here for breakfast."

He chuckled, setting his cup down.

"You intrigue me, Celeste. That doesn't happen often."

"Flattery doesn't work on me."

"Good," he said smoothly. "Because I'm not here to flatter you. I'm here to offer you something."

I arched a brow. "And what exactly do you think I need?"

Damien leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious.

The word hung between us, heavy with unspoken meaning.

I tapped a finger against the table. "From whom?"

"Liam. Serena. Everyone who would rather see you disappear than watch you unravel their world."

I tilted my head, studying him. "And what do you get out of this… generosity?"

His lips curved into something unreadable.

A sharp, knowing silence stretched between us.

"I don't need protection, Damien." I reached for my coffee, taking a slow sip before meeting his gaze again. "But you? You might, when this is over."

Chapter 15: Poison in the Air