CHAPTER 2

Celeste had always known how quickly rumors spread in high society, but she never expected to be the subject of one so cruel and public. The moment she stepped into the grand ballroom of the Sinclair Estate, whispers rippled through the crowd like a venomous tide. Heads turned. Judgmental eyes locked onto her with a mixture of pity and schadenfreude.

"Did you hear?"

"Left at the altar. Can you imagine the disgrace?"

"And he's already engaged to Bianca!"

The last comment sent a dagger through Celeste's chest. She lifted her chin, forcing a mask of indifference over her face, but her heart pounded against her ribs. Her fingers clenched around the delicate fabric of her midnight-blue gown, the one she had once picked out with Lucas for a different occasion—a night where she would have been his fiancée, not his discarded mistake.

Bianca made sure to make an entrance. Dressed in an ostentatious red gown that clung to her figure like sin itself, she glided through the crowd, her hand resting possessively on Lucas's arm. A triumphant smirk played on her lips as she approached Celeste, her eyes twinkling with malice.

"Oh, Celeste," Bianca cooed, feigning concern. "I wasn't sure if you'd show up. I mean, considering… well, you know."

Celeste swallowed the lump in her throat and met Bianca's gaze head-on. "Why wouldn't I? I wouldn't miss watching the circus unfold."

Bianca's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. Lucas, however, remained silent, his jaw tight, his eyes darting everywhere but at Celeste. That hurt more than the whispers, more than the humiliation. She had loved him, trusted him, and he had tossed her aside like yesterday's news.

A woman in a bejeweled gown sidled up to them, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Celeste, darling, how are you holding up? It must be so difficult, especially since Lucas and Bianca are clearly meant to be. But don't worry, dear. Someone else will surely find you… eventually."

Laughter fluttered through the small group. Celeste's stomach twisted, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. Instead, she smiled, slow and deliberate.

"Oh, I'm doing better than you can imagine." She let her gaze flicker to Lucas, who finally met her eyes. Something unreadable flashed in his expression, but she didn't care to decipher it anymore. "After all, I just got rid of something toxic in my life."

The murmurs around them grew louder, and Bianca's grip on Lucas's arm tightened. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Bianca quickly cut in. "Well, we should be going. Enjoy the party, Celeste. Try not to be too lonely."

As they sauntered off, Celeste released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her supposed friends had vanished the moment she became the scandal of the season. No one stood beside her. She was utterly, painfully alone.

A fresh wave of whispers swelled as she made her way toward the balcony, desperate for air. She stepped outside, the crisp night air biting against her skin. Her heart pounded as she gripped the railing, nails digging into the cold metal. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let tears fall. Not here. Not now.

"Don't let them get to you," she whispered to herself. But the words felt hollow.

"Rough night?"

Celeste turned sharply to find Damien Sinclair leaning against the balcony's edge, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His piercing green eyes held an amusement that only deepened her irritation.

"Come to gloat?" she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Now why would I do that?" Damien smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I must say, though, your restraint back there was impressive. If it were me, I would've thrown a drink in someone's face."

Celeste let out a dry laugh, surprised by the warmth in his voice. "Believe me, I considered it."

A moment of silence settled between them, filled only by the distant hum of the party. Then Damien's voice lowered. "You know, they thrive on watching you suffer. If you walk back in there with your head high, you win."

She looked at him, really looked at him. He wasn't offering pity. He was offering strength. And perhaps that was exactly what she needed.

Squaring her shoulders, Celeste turned toward the ballroom doors. "Then let's give them a show."

With Damien at her side, she strode back in, her confidence no longer an act but something real, something unshakable. The whispers didn't stop, but this time, she didn't hear them.

Because Celeste was done being the victim.

And that was only the beginning.