Ofori_Atta

When preservationist Celeste Carter is hired to oversee the restoration of the historic Fairmont Theater, she expects a battle with real estate developer Adrian Hawthorne—not a descent into a decades-old mystery. The once-grand theatre holds a dark past, tied to a devastating fire in 1948 that killed a young actress named Evelyn Ross. The official story claims it was an accident. But the deeper Celeste digs, the more she realizes that someone is desperate to keep the truth buried.

Strange occurrences at the Fairmont—ghostly whispers, missing records, and a mysterious informant—convince Celeste that Evelyn’s spirit is trying to communicate. When anonymous threats escalate into physical attacks, she and Adrian uncover a sinister conspiracy that dates back to the theatre’s original owner, Nathaniel Wren. But Wren wasn’t the only one involved. Powerful men in Port Bellingham conspired to cover up the truth—and some of them are still alive.

With danger closing in, Celeste and Adrian must navigate a maze of deception, corruption, and long-buried secrets. If they expose the past, they could bring justice to Evelyn after seventy-five years. But someone is willing to do anything to stop them.

And the Fairmont isn’t the only place haunted by its history.

We shouldn't Have

Celeste spent the weekend buried in research. If she was going to do this—really do this—she needed to know every inch of the Fairmont's history.

Blueprints, old newspaper clippings, personal anecdotes from longtime residents. By Monday morning, she had a full binder of notes and a sense of creeping dread.

Working with Adrian was dangerous. Not because he was reckless, though she suspected he had a knack for pushing boundaries—but because he was persuasive.

And if she wasn't careful, she might start believing he wasn't the arrogant opportunist she'd always assumed.

She arrived at the Fairmont site early, the winter air biting as she stepped onto the cracked pavement.

Inside, construction lights cast long shadows over faded murals and peeling gold trim. A crew was already moving scaffolding into place, their voices echoing in the cavernous lobby.

Adrian was waiting near the grand staircase, flipping through a set of documents. His usual sharp suit was replaced with dark jeans and a tailored coat, but he still looked out of place—like a man who belonged in boardrooms, not restoration projects.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

Celeste snorted. "I'm twenty minutes early."

"Not early enough." He handed her a rolled-up blueprint. "I assume you've done your homework?"

She resisted the urge to smack him with the paper. "Unlike some people, I don't make reckless decisions without research."

His mouth twitched as if suppressing a smile. "Good. Then let's talk priorities."

Celeste unrolled the blueprint on a nearby worktable, her fingers skimming over the faded outlines of the theatre's original design.

"This ceiling fresco—are you actually planning to preserve it, or is this one of those 'respectful modernization' situations where you paint over history?"

Adrian leaned in, close enough that she caught the scent of his cologne—something dark and expensive. "I was thinking restoration, but if you have a better idea…"

She studied him. He wasn't dismissing her, wasn't steamrolling past her concerns. He was listening.

"Restoration will take time," she admitted. "And money."

Of course he did. Adrian Sinclair wasn't just wealthy—he was calculated. If he was investing in this, it wasn't just sentimentality. He saw an opportunity.

Celeste tapped the blueprint. "Fine. But we're keeping the chandeliers. And the marble flooring in the foyer stays."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah. I want final approval on all design changes."

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. "You're relentless."

"Same thing." He extended his hand again. "Deal?"

Celeste hesitated, then clasped his hand. This time, the warmth of his grip didn't catch her off guard.

She just wasn't sure if she'd survive Adrian Sinclair.

The Fairmont Revival