When Dreams Meet Disaster

When Dreams Meet Disaster
POV Celeste Winters

I stood in a cathedral, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people's houses. The crystal-encrusted bodice sparkled with every breath. Damien waited at the altar, his expression soft in a way it never was in real life.

"I'm sorry I made you wait," he said. "You're the only woman I've ever truly needed."

He kissed me. The guests erupted in applause.

Vivienne and Seraphina stood behind me as bridesmaids, their faces tight with envy.

As I walked down the aisle, Kieran crawled forward and wrapped his arms around my legs, tears and snot smearing across my silk stockings.

"Please, Celeste, I'm begging you," he sobbed. "I was wrong about everything. Give me another chance—"

I felt the wetness seeping through the fabric, the pathetic trembling of his grip. Disgust curled through me.

I planted my heel against his face and shoved. He sprawled backward onto the marble floor while I continued forward without a glance, my hand finding Damien's waiting palm.

The reception was held in a ballroom that rivaled anything the Ashfords owned. Ronan sat at the head table with Drake, both men smoking cigars, laughing about how perfectly the alliance had worked out.

But the best part was happening on the far side of the ballroom.

Marcus stood there in full fury, berating Thorne who knelt on the floor. Behind them, a projection screen showed news footage: "Medical Fraud Exposed: Dr. Winters Sentenced to Prison." Sage being led away in handcuffs, her face pale and defeated.

"You married that woman," Marcus said, voice cutting. "That fraud. That liar."

Thorne slapped himself across the face, over and over, eyes red as he stared at the screen. "I'm sorry, Grandfather. I should have listened to you."

But his gaze kept drifting toward me, filled with longing and regret.

I threw my head back and laughed. I'd won. I'd won everything.

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the dream.

I jerked awake, heart racing. The dim hospital room came into focus slowly—the beeping monitors, the smell of antiseptic, Lyanna's steady breathing. I wiped the drool from my mouth quickly, cheeks burning. At least no one had seen.

My phone screen showed: Dad.

12:17 AM.

My first reaction was irritation. Why was he calling at this hour? Couldn't it wait until morning?

Then I registered the time again. Unease flickered through me. Father never called this late unless something was wrong.

I slipped out of the room quietly, not wanting the phone to wake Lyanna, and walked down the hallway until I found a spot where I could talk without disturbing anyone.

"Dad, it's the middle of the night," I hissed into the phone. "What's so important?"

The voice that came through wasn't the confident tone I was used to. It was shaky and hoarse, barely above a whisper. Wind in the background. Distant dog barking. My father was outside somewhere, in the dark, and he sounded terrified.

"Celeste," he said, desperation thick in his voice. "You have to help me. Please."

My irritation vanished, replaced by cold dread. "What happened? Where are you?"

"I'm hiding." He was breathing hard, like he'd been running. "I had to get out of the house."

"Who? Dad, you're not making sense."

A pause. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. "Sage came to me this afternoon."

Ice water dumped over my head. "What?"

"She came to find me this afternoon." His voice was shaking. "Her and Thorne. They had documents—detailed records of your aunt's will, proof that those shares were always meant for Sage. They cornered me, stripped me down to my underwear and forced me to sign the documents."

"What? Stripped you? How dare she!" My fingers tightened around the phone. "And you finally signed? Give in to them?"

"I didn't have a choice!" His voice cracked. "Thorne brought lawyers. They had evidence of everything—every transaction I made from Sage's trust fund, every penny I transferred. They said if I didn't sign, they'd file criminal charges immediately. Fraud. Embezzlement. Abuse of a minor."

He was breathing hard now, almost hyperventilating. "But it wasn't just the shares. After I signed, they went straight to the estate. They told your mother she had to leave."

"And Mom refused," I said, my voice flat.

"I didn't dare go home after that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I knew what was coming. And I was right—the police sent me a message an hour ago. Your mother was arrested for refusing to vacate. Trespassing on Sage's property."

"Arrested," I repeated numbly.

"She wouldn't leave, Celeste. She told them it was her home. But legally, it's Sage's now. Has been since the deed transfer went through." He made a choked sound. "They took her to the station. And I can't go back. If they arrested your mother just for refusing to leave, what do you think they'll do to me? I'm the one who stole from Sage. I'm the one who spent her inheritance."

I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. "Where are you now?"

"The old warehouse in the industrial district. The one we bought years ago that's not in any of the main records." He was nearly gasping. "But I can't hide forever. Sage has Thorne backing her. His lawyers, his money, his connections. She's coming for everything, Celeste. And she won't stop until we're destroyed."

The floor tilted beneath my feet. This couldn't be happening. This was supposed to be my moment. I'd just secured my engagement to Damien. I'd just begun establishing myself in the Ashford circle.

Now my entire foundation was crumbling because Sage—that pathetic little nobody—had somehow clawed her way back and destroyed everything.

"You have to help us," Ronan pleaded again. "You're an Ashford now. You have resources. Damien can help."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the phone against the wall.

Instead, I forced myself to take a slow breath. Ronan was right about one thing. I did have access to resources now, at least in theory.

But the truth was far more complicated.

I wasn't some beloved daughter-in-law with the full backing of the Ashford family. I was a pawn. A piece Damien and Maeve were using to further their own agenda. Damien barely touched me. He looked at me with disdain half the time.

After failing spectacularly at the charity gala, after being exposed for stealing credit for saving Marcus, my position had grown even more precarious.

I thought about my last conversation with Damien. The fury in his eyes when I'd suggested killing Marcus. The hand around my throat. The cold, deadly warning.

That was before tonight's disaster. Before my father had lost everything and my mother had been arrested.

If Damien found out, if he realized my family's wealth and status had been built on stolen assets, that I was now the daughter of a criminal, he'd drop me without hesitation.

But I couldn't tell my father that. I couldn't let him know how fragile my position really was, how close I was to losing everything myself.

He was already spiraling. If he knew the truth, he'd drag me down with him.

"I'll figure something out," I said, the words tasting like ash. "Just stay where you are. I'll see what I can do about getting Mom a lawyer."