Chapter 27 My Little Win
\-Denise-
Something was wrong, and I could feel it. Celeste had been set up by these miscreants!
Just as I lurched forward, Grant grabbed me by the waist, holding me back. “Let me go, what are you doing?!” I snapped, gritting my teeth.
He only held on tighter. “Do you think the elites only pay for gloss and glamor? They, too, want the drama, and this here is the real deal!” he said, his breath warm against my ears.
So this was his plan all along? To humiliate Celeste in front of the society she had once belonged to.
At the same moment, I heard a loud smash. All heads turned in the direction to see Bianca, face to face with none other than… Lucien.
“A fucking live stream? What the fuck! Do you people not know what’s going on here? He snapped at everyone, his eyes wide with rage.
I gasped. That bitch was on a live-stream?
I finally kicked Grant in his crouch, freeing myself from his grip. I quickly rushed to Celeste. The medics on set were already with her.
From there, Bianca held Lucien by the arm, almost like she was begging him to stop talking, but clearly the man was way past reasoning.
He scoffed, then went on. “You’re asking me to stop? You should have thought of that before you started this! Is that even legal? Leaking unreleased content?”
Bianca’s face flushed red from embarrassment, and for the first time since she got here, I finally felt like we had won.
From the moment she arrived, everything went south. I couldn’t believe she was filming Celeste. I had been so distracted that I missed it.
Lucien pushed past the onlookers and walked to Celeste. Without a word, he carried her. I led him to our booth where he gently placed her on the couch.
I didn’t exactly understand their dynamics—the circumstances behind their marriage, a word for what was happening between them, but one thing was certain: he cared about her.
He turned in my direction with a frown. “Next time, call me as soon as things start to go wrong.”
My brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t tell me you live under a rock,” he retorted.
“Right,” I murmured, slipping my phone out of my pocket. I rushed to my socials to see several photos of Celeste posted from an anonymous account with the caption:
A photo at a feature, guess which.
In another one, Celeste held the back of her dress. The photo was captioned. ‘Oops, dress malfunction.’
“This is illegal!” And clearly it was Bianca’s doing.
Just then, Grant walked in with a sober expression on his face. My teeth bared, but I had to hold back. This wasn’t the time and place for another bout of drama.
“Mr. Blackwell, believe me, I didn’t mean for any of these to happen. I made sure Miss Campton was removed from the premises. How is she doing now?” he asked in a concerned tone.
Gosh, I hated this man.
“You were fully aware the magazine’s content was protected under a confidentiality clause. Allowing someone to leak that spread before the agreed release date is a direct violation, not just of internal policy, but of binding non-disclosure terms,” Lucien stated coldly.
For a moment, I had almost forgotten he came from a family of lawyers.
“Sir, I assure you, I’ve made sure to remove Miss Campton from the premises.”
“That’s not enough, this it’s legally actionable. I suggest you contain this, before I escalate it myself.”
Was he going to press charges? I wondered. I had to admit, it was something to look forward to.
Grant immediately felt to his knees, begging like nothing more than a pauper. “I beg of you, Mr. Blackwell, a lawsuit is the last thing we need now. I’ll do anything—what can we do?”
His lips curved into a cruel smile, like he had been steering the conversation in this direction the entire time.
“It’s not enough that Bianca Campton is removed, she’s not to be featured in the magazine from here on. Also, she’s to be blocked from any elite magazine.”
Even my heart skipped a beat.
“I trust it’s something you can handle, Mr. Miller.” He smirked.
Grant stared up at him like he had just received the death sentence. He swallowed hard as he finally rose to his feet.
“Ye—Yes sir, if it’s what you want sir.” He stammered.
“Good, you can leave,” he said flatly. How could someone be cruel and warm at the same time?
With that, Grant turned and walked out with his tail between his legs.
Celeste finally woke up, she was still shaken from the incident, but at the sight of Lucien, her face turned dark with rage.
She was right to be upset. There was still no explanation for the photo with Bianca.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I’m here to take you home,” he calmly replied.
Her expression hardened. “I’m not going.”
If there was one thing I knew about Celeste, it was that she was as stubborn as a mule. Mr. Blackwell seemed even more stubborn.
“Well, I’m not leaving without you,” he retorted.
She glared at him—so intensely that if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. The tension between them was palpable. Whatever this was, it had to be better than being married to that pathetic loser who flirted with everyone.
“Celeste, the place is swarmed by Bianca’s leak. You have to go with him,” I told her.
“Then you have to come with.” She replied.
I didn’t want to feel like I was imposing, but when I saw the defiance in her eyes, I agreed. Somehow, we managed to sneak past all the chaos, till we were settled in the car.
The ride was a quiet one, the silence louder than the chaos outside. Finally, we arrived at this massive penthouse, and I nearly gasped.
Was he really an illegitimate son?
At that moment, Celeste began to demand answers about the photographs of him from earlier. As her voice raised, their words blended into something incomprehensible, and all I knew was that I couldn’t stay here.
As if on cue, I got a text from David. I’d been ignoring him since the photo with Celeste, but right now it seems like a good distraction.
He asked if Celeste and I were alright. Deep down, I was jealous. Clearly, he seemed to like her. But then, he asked me out for dinner—to discuss what I had earlier sent.
It wasn’t ideal, but I quickly agreed.
“In two hours, yes?” I texted—
“Denise, why aren’t you saying anything?” Celeste snapped, bringing me back to reality.
I darted my eyes between them. David was typing. “Um… I’ve got to go now,” I said as I turned and hurried off.
“Nice house, Mr. Blackwell.” And that was it.
\---
In the evening, I met David at an upscale restaurant. He had already made reservations. It was beautiful; dim lights, soft jazz, and a table set for two. I slid into the seat across from him, raising a brow.
“So… is this a business dinner?” I asked, trying to sound casual, even though I had dressed like it wasn’t.
He smiled, like he knew exactly what ran through my mind. “No. It’s not. And I’d appreciate it if we didn’t talk about work tonight.”
My breath caught. “Oh.”
“I actually want to get to know you, Denise. The real you.”
That shut me up. For a while, anyway.
Dinner flowed better than I expected, he was easy to talk to when it wasn’t about business. We laughed, we teased, and when his fingers brushed mine on the table, I didn’t pull away. When he held my hand, I didn’t even pretend to be indifferent. Something in me stirred, and I hated how much I liked it.
“I know what you’re thinking about Celeste,” he said suddenly, eyes locked on mine. “But don’t. It’s not what it looks like.”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding it in, then leaned forward, and his expression shifted into something serious.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said quietly.
But right then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and his jaw tensed.
“Give me a minute,” he muttered, rising to take the call.
He stepped away to take the call, but I could already tell that something was wrong. His posture mirrored annoyance and his voice low with frustration. When he returned to the table, his expression had shifted.
He signaled the waiter.
“Everything alright?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Yes,” he said quickly. “How much? Thanks.” He handled the bill without looking at me.
“You were going to tell me something,” I reminded him.
He paused. Just for a moment. Then gently. “I’m sorry… maybe some other time. Something came up. It’s urgent.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“You can finish,” he added, already getting up. “I’ll call you.”
And before I could ask more, he leaned in, pressed a brief kiss to my forehead, and walked out, leaving me stunned.
What was he going to tell me? I wondered.