Celeste's POV
Monday morning, I arrive at work early, my stomach in knots.
All weekend, I tried to search Damien's study, but he never left the penthouse. It's like he knew. Like he could sense I was pulling away.
Morning meeting in five minutes, my assistant reminds me. The new interns are starting today.
Right. The intern program. I'd forgotten.
I grab my coffee and head to the conference room. The strategic planning team is already there, along with three fresh-faced college students who look terrified.
Everyone, these are our spring interns, my manager announces. This is Madison from NYU, Trevor from Cornell, and Marcus from MIT.
My eyes land on Marcus. He's Asian, probably mid-twenties, wearing jeans and a button-down that's slightly wrinkled. His smile is nervous but genuine.
Marcus will be working with strategic planning, the manager continues. Celeste, since you're leading the Asia expansion project, I thought he'd be a good fit for your team.
Great, I say, trying to sound enthusiastic despite my exhaustion.
After the meeting, Marcus approaches my desk.
Hi. Thanks for taking me on. He shifts his backpack nervously. I know I'm just an intern, but I promise I'll work really hard. I've read all your reports on the Asia market and they're honestly incredible.
I blink. You've read my reports?
Yeah, of course. The quarterly analysis you did on Shanghai's manufacturing sector? That's the kind of strategic thinking they teach in textbooks. It's an honor to learn from you.
Something warm unfurls in my chest. No one's ever said anything like that to me before.
Thank you, I manage. That... means a lot.
So, what should I start with?
I look at his eager face and make a decision. A small rebellion against Damien's control.
Actually, I need help with the market research for the expansion proposal. It's real work, not intern busywork. Think you can handle it?
His face lights up. Absolutely.
Over the next two weeks, working with Marcus becomes the best part of my day.
He's smart—really smart. He sees patterns in data that I miss. He challenges my assumptions in a way that makes me think harder, not feel defensive.
But more than that, he treats me like a normal person.
He doesn't know I'm Damien's sister. The name Ashford doesn't mean anything to him—he's from California, and his world is tech startups and coding, not New York business empires.
To him, I'm just Celeste. A colleague. A mentor. A person.
Okay, check this out, Marcus says one afternoon, pulling up a spreadsheet. If we cross-reference the consumer spending data with the shipping logistics, we can predict the holiday season performance with like 95% accuracy.
I lean over to look at his screen. That's brilliant. How did you think of that?
I didn't. You did. He grins. In your Q2 report, you mentioned the correlation between shipping delays and consumer confidence. I just applied it to a larger dataset.
Still brilliant, I insist.
We spend the afternoon building projection models. Real, innovative work that actually matters. Not the busy tasks Damien usually assigns me.
At lunch, Marcus tells me about his college roommate who tried to build a breakfast-making robot.
So there we are, at three AM, watching the toaster literally catch fire—
I laugh so hard I snort, which makes Marcus laugh harder.
Across the cafeteria, I notice other employees staring. They've probably never seen me relaxed before. Never seen me as anything but Damien Ashford's perfect, controlled little sister.
Sorry, I say, trying to compose myself. That's so ridiculous.
Right? And the worst part is, he blamed me for the fire. Said my negativity affected the robot's energy. Marcus shakes his head. I roomed with a crazy person for four years.
Sounds like it was fun though.
Yeah, it was. His smile softens. This is fun too. Working with you. You're not what I expected.
What did you expect?
I don't know. Someone more... corporate? Serious? But you're actually really cool. Easy to talk to.
The compliment makes my cheeks warm. When was the last time someone called me cool?
My phone buzzes. A text from Damien: Lunch?
Guilt floods through me. I've been avoiding him all week, making excuses about being busy with work.
Everything okay? Marcus asks.
Yeah. Just... my brother checking in.
The CEO, right? Must be weird having your brother as your boss.
If only he knew how weird.
Sometimes, I admit.
The third week, we start staying late to finish the expansion proposal. The office empties out around six, leaving us alone in the conference room with our laptops and cold coffee.
I think we should pitch the manufacturing hub in Shenzhen instead of Shanghai, Marcus says, highlighting a section of our analysis. The cost savings are significant, and the infrastructure is better.
But Shanghai has better access to international shipping
True, but look at the timeline. If we factor in the trade regulations... He pulls up another chart.
We debate for an hour, challenging each other's ideas, building something better together.
Around nine PM, Marcus stretches and yawns. We should probably call it. You've been here since seven this morning.
So have you.
Yeah, but I'm an intern. I'm supposed to work crazy hours to prove myself. He grins. You're already proven. You're literally the director.
The word still feels strange. Director. Like it's a real position, not just a title Damien gave me to keep me close.
Can I ask you something? I say before I can stop myself.
Sure.
Do you think I'm good at this? At my job? The question sounds pathetic, but I need to know. Be honest.
Marcus looks genuinely confused. Are you kidding? You're incredible at this. The way you analyze markets, predict trends, see connections no one else sees? You could be running your own firm if you wanted.
My throat tightens. Really?
Really. Why would you even doubt that?
Because Damien's never let me believe it. Because every success I have, he attributes to his guidance. Because I've spent two years thinking I only have this job because of my last name.
Just wondering, I say quietly.
Marcus is quiet for a moment. Then he says, For what it's worth, I think you're wasted here.
What?
You're brilliant, Celeste. But from what I've seen, they give you basic analysis work that's way below your skill level. You should be doing strategic planning for the whole company, not just Asia expansion. He closes his laptop. Why don't you ask for more responsibility?
Because Damien would say no. Because he wants me close, doing safe work that keeps me dependent on him.
But I can't say that.
Maybe I will, I lie.
Friday evening, fourth week, we're alone in the conference room again. We finished the proposal an hour ago, but neither of us has moved to leave.
This might be the best work I've ever done, Marcus says, scrolling through our final report. Thanks for giving me real projects instead of coffee runs.
Thanks for making them actually fun.
He looks at me then, and something shifts in the air between us. Something warm and electric and terrifying.
Can I tell you something? he asks quietly.
My heart starts to race. Okay.
I've really liked working with you these past few weeks. Like, a lot. But it's more than just the work. He takes a breath. I like you, Celeste. Not as my mentor or my boss or whatever. I like you as... you.
The words I've been waiting my whole life to hear.
Someone sees me. Really sees me. Not as Damien's sister or an Ashford or a strategic asset.
Just me.
I like you too, I whisper.
His face lights up. Yeah?
Yeah.
So... would you maybe want to go out sometime? Like on a real date? Not a work thing?
I should say no. I should remember what happened to every other man who showed interest in me. I should remember Damien's surveillance files and Victoria's warnings.
But I'm so tired of being afraid. So tired of letting Damien control every aspect of my life.
Yes, I say. I'd really like that.
Marcus's smile could light up the whole city. Really? That's—wow. Okay. How about Saturday? There's this great Thai place in the Village
Saturday is perfect.
We make plans. Exchange phone numbers. Smile at each other like idiots.
When I finally leave the office, I'm floating. Actually floating.
Someone asked me out. Someone who doesn't know about my money or my name or my overprotective brother.
Someone who just likes me.
I get home around ten. The penthouse is dark except for light coming from Damien's study.
I should tell him I'm home. But the thought of facing him right now, when I'm still buzzing with happiness about Marcus, feels impossible.
I head straight for my room.
Celeste?
I freeze on the stairs. Damien emerges from his study, tie loosened, looking exhausted.
You're working late, I say.
So are you. He climbs the stairs toward me. Fourth night this week. Big project?
Yeah. The Asia expansion proposal. It's due Monday.
With the intern? His voice is casual, but there's an edge to it. Marcus Chen?
My stomach drops. How did you know his name?
I know everything that happens in my company, Celeste. Especially when it involves you. He's standing close now, too close. You've been spending a lot of time with him.
He's helping with the proposal
Is that all he's helping with?
The question hangs in the air, loaded with accusation.
What's that supposed to mean?
It means I've noticed you smiling more. Laughing. Coming home late with that look on your face. His eyes bore into mine. Has he made a move on you?
That's none of your business
Everything about you is my business. His hand grips my arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't pull away. Did he ask you out?
I should lie. Every instinct screams at me to lie.
But I'm tired of lying. Tired of hiding. Tired of letting Damien control everything.
Yes, I say, lifting my chin. He asked me out. And I said yes.
For a moment, Damien doesn't react. Just stares at me with those ice-blue eyes.
Then something terrible crosses his face. Something cold and possessive and absolutely furious.
You said yes, he repeats quietly.
Yes. We're going out Saturday night
No, you're not.
Excuse me?
You're not going out with Marcus Chen or anyone else. His grip tightens. I won't allow it.
You won't allow it? Rage explodes in my chest. You don't get to decide who I date!
Yes, I do. Because you clearly can't make good decisions for yourself—
This is insane! I wrench my arm free. You can't control my entire life!
I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you from men who want to use you!
Marcus doesn't want to use me! He likes me!
He likes your name. Your money. Your connection to me. Damien's voice turns sharp. Trust me, Celeste. No one pursues you for you. They pursue you for what you can give them.
The words cut deeper than any physical blow could.
You're wrong, I whisper.
I'm not. And you'll thank me later for stopping this before it goes too far.
He turns to walk away, like the matter is settled. Like my feelings and choices don't matter at all.
If you interfere with this, I'll never forgive you, I call after him.
He pauses at the top of the stairs. Looks back at me.
I'd rather have your hatred than your grave, he says quietly.
Then he walks away, leaving me standing alone, my happiness from earlier completely destroyed.
I lock myself in my room and text Marcus: Looking forward to Saturday!
He responds immediately: Me too!
I stare at the phone, dread pooling in my stomach.
Because I know Damien. I know how he operates.
Marcus asked me out on Wednesday.
By Monday morning, he'll be gone.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.