Celeste's POV
Paris is beautiful, but I can't see it through my fear.
Belle's apartment has two bedrooms, exposed brick walls, and windows overlooking cobblestone streets. It should feel like freedom. Instead, it feels like a temporary hiding place.
You need to eat something, Belle says, setting a croissant in front of me. You've been staring at your phone for three hours.
He's going to call again.
Then we block the number
He'll just get another one. He always finds a way. I push the plate away. Maybe I should just go back. End this before it gets worse.
Absolutely not. Belle sits across from me, her expression fierce. You escaped, Celeste. You're free. Don't let his threats pull you back into that cage.
But am I free? Damien's voice still echoes in my head. You're mine. I will find you.
My burner phone buzzes. Unknown number.
My hands shake as I answer. Stop calling me
Ms. Ashford? A woman's voice, professional and warm. This is Claire Dubois from Beaumont Luxe. I wanted to confirm your interview on Monday at 2 PM with Mr. Beaumont.
Relief floods through me. Not Damien. Just the job.
Yes. I'll be there. Thank you.
After I hang up, Belle grins. See? Good things are happening. New job, new city, new life.
If Damien doesn't ruin it first.
He's in New York. You're in Paris. He can't touch you here. She stands, pulling me to my feet. Come on. Let's go explore. You can't hide in the apartment forever.
We spend Saturday wandering through Le Marais. Belle points out her favorite café, the bookstore she loves, the park where she runs every morning.
This could be your life, she says. No one controlling you. No one watching your every move. Just you, being yourself.
For the first time since landing in Paris, I let myself imagine it. A real job where I'm valued for my skills. Friends who choose me, not my name. Maybe even dating, if I can ever trust anyone again after Damien's manipulation.
What if I'm not strong enough? I ask quietly. What if he shows up and I just... go back with him?
Then I'll literally drag you away. Belle links her arm through mine. You're not alone anymore. Remember that.
That night, I actually sleep. Not well, but better than I have in weeks.
Sunday morning, Belle makes coffee and announces her plan.
We're going shopping. You need a professional wardrobe for your interview tomorrow. Something that makes you feel powerful.
I don't have money. Damien froze all my cards
I have money. And before you argue, this is an investment in your future. You'll pay me back when you're a successful executive. She hands me a cup. Besides, retail therapy is excellent for processing trauma.
We spend the afternoon in boutiques I'd normally never enter. Belle has impeccable taste, pulling outfits that are sophisticated but not stuffy. Professional but uniquely me.
This one, she says, holding up a navy blazer. It says 'I'm brilliant and I know it.'
I try it on. Look at myself in the mirror.
For the first time in years, I don't see Damien's little sister. I see Celeste. Just Celeste.
I'll take it, I say.
Monday morning, I'm a bundle of nerves.
You're going to be amazing, Belle assures me over breakfast. Just be yourself. They already want you—this is just a formality.
The Beaumont Luxe headquarters is stunning, all glass and modern design. Nothing like Ashford Industries' cold corporate aesthetic.
Claire greets me warmly. Mr. Beaumont is running a few minutes late. Can I get you coffee while you wait?
Please.
I sit in the reception area, trying to calm my racing heart. This is my chance. A real job. A fresh start.
Ms. Ashford? Claire returns. He's ready for you.
The CEO's office has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Paris. And behind the desk sits a man who makes my breath catch.
He's maybe thirty-two, with dark hair, sharp green eyes, and an expensive suit that fits perfectly. When he looks up, something flickers in his expression—recognition? Calculation?
Ms. Ashford, he says in accented English, standing to shake my hand. I'm Julien Beaumont. Please, sit.
His grip is firm. Professional. But there's something intense about the way he studies me.
Your résumé is impressive, he continues. Columbia University honors graduate, two years at Ashford Industries in strategic planning. But you're leaving a senior position at your family company. Why?
I have my answer prepared. I want to prove I can succeed on my own merit, not because of my last name.
Something flickers in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or something else.
The luxury market is competitive and demanding. What makes you qualified to lead strategy in a market you don't know?
I may not know French luxury specifically, but I know business. I know how to read markets, understand consumer behavior, and create growth strategies. I sit up straighter. Give me two weeks to prove it.
A small smile crosses his lips. Bold. I appreciate that.
The interview lasts forty-five minutes. We discuss market trends, expansion opportunities, my vision for the division. Julien is sharp, challenging every assumption, pushing me to think deeper.
It's exhilarating. Like my brain is finally being used the way it should be.
One more question, Julien says at the end. Your brother is Damien Ashford, correct?
My stomach drops. Yes.
And he's comfortable with you working for a competitor?
The question is loaded. Does he know about my escape? About Damien's obsession?
My brother and I have... different views on my career, I say carefully. I'm making my own decisions now.
Julien studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. Good. Independence is important in this role. He stands, extending his hand. Welcome to Beaumont Luxe, Ms. Ashford. You start Wednesday.
Wait—I got the job?
Did you think you wouldn't? His smile is genuine. You're exactly what we need. Claire will handle the paperwork. I'll see you Wednesday morning.
I leave his office in a daze. I did it. I actually got a real job based on my own merit.
Belle screams when I text her the news. I KNEW IT! Celebration dinner tonight!
For the first time since leaving New York, I feel hope.
Maybe I can build a life here. Maybe I can be free.
We're at dinner—a small bistro Belle loves—when my phone buzzes.
Unknown number. Again.
I almost don't answer. But something makes me pick up.
Hello?
Congratulations on the new job. Damien's voice is ice. Beaumont Luxe. Interesting choice.
My blood turns cold. How did you
I told you. I know everything. He pauses. Did your new boss mention that eight years ago, I destroyed his father's company? That Philippe Beaumont killed himself because of a deal I made?
No. No, that can't be true.
You're lying
Am I? Ask Julien about his father. Ask him why he really hired you. Damien's voice turns sharp. You think you escaped me? You think you're building a new life? You just walked right into the arms of someone who wants to destroy me. And he's going to use you to do it.
That's not
He didn't hire you for your skills, Celeste. He hired you for your last name. For revenge. You're nothing but a pawn in his game. He laughs bitterly. At least when I controlled you, it was because I loved you. He's using you because he hates me.
The line goes dead.
I sit frozen, the phone shaking in my hand.
Belle sees my face. What did he say?
He said... I can't finish. Can't say the words.
Because what if Damien's right? What if Julien only hired me to get revenge? What if I escaped one cage just to walk into another?
Celeste, talk to me
I need to know the truth. I stand, grabbing my coat. About Julien Beaumont. About his father. About why he really hired me.
Where are you going?
To find out if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I run out of the restaurant, Damien's words echoing in my head.
You're nothing but a pawn in his game.
What if everyone who claims to care about me is just using me?
What if I'll never be free?