Chapter 95: Poison-Sweet

Chapter 95: Poison-Sweet
Damien Pov

The mansion felt cold when Damien walked through the front door. His footsteps echoed on marble floors that cost more than most people's houses. Everything was perfect. Polished. Lifeless.

Just like his marriage.

Celia stood in the living room with her arms crossed. She wore a cream-colored dress that probably cost five thousand dollars. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a perfect chignon. Not a strand out of place.

She looked like a museum exhibit. Beautiful and untouchable.

"Well, well." Her voice could have cut glass. "Look who decided to come home."

Damien loosened his tie. "Celia. I'm not in the mood."

"That's all you have to say? After humiliating me in front of the entire city?"

She held up her phone. The screen showed a gossip website. The headline screamed in bold letters: "BILLIONAIRE CAUGHT CHEATING WITH MYSTERY WOMAN."

Below it was a photo of him kissing Celeste. The image was crystal clear. His hands on her face. Her body pressed against his. No mistaking what was happening.

"It's everywhere, Damien. Every news channel. Every website. Every social media platform." Celia's voice shook with rage. "My friends are calling me. Asking if I knew. Asking how I feel about being betrayed."

"I can explain—"

"Explain?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to explain how you got caught with your tongue down another woman's throat?"

The staff moved around the edges of the room like ghosts. Maria, the housekeeper, dusted the same table three times. Pablo, the cook, suddenly found the kitchen doorway fascinating.

They were all listening. All waiting for the explosion.

"What makes it worse," Celia continued, her voice getting louder, "is that it's her. Of all people, it had to be her."

"Her?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Celeste Williams. Your Personal Assistant." Celia spat the words like poison. "The girl who lived in my house. Ate at my table. Pretended to be family."

Damien's jaw tightened. "She didn't pretend anything."

"Oh, so you're defending her now?" Celia's eyes flashed. "How romantic. How noble of you."

"Celia"

"Do you know what the worst part is? I'm not even angry that you cheated." She moved closer, her heels clicking on the marble. "Men cheat. It's what they do. I've known about your affairs for months."

That stopped him cold. "You knew?"

"Please. You think I'm stupid? The late nights. The mysterious phone calls. The way you look right through me like I don't exist." She shrugged. "I didn't care as long as you were discreet about it."

From the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass. Pablo had dropped something. His face went red as he scrambled to clean it up.

"But this?" Celia gestured at the phone. "This is not discreet. This is front-page news. This is me becoming a laughingstock."

Alfred, their elderly butler, appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat softly. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private?"

"No, Alfred." Celia's smile was sharp as a knife. "Let them listen. Let them hear how their boss treats his wife."

The staff scattered like leaves in the wind. All except Alfred, who stood his ground with the dignity of a man who'd served the Kane family for thirty years.

"Mrs. Kane, perhaps—"

"It's fine, Alfred." Damien's voice was tired. "Let her say whatever she needs to say."

Celia turned back to him. "I want to know why her. Why Celeste?"

"Because I need her."

The words fell into the room like stones dropping into still water. Celia went completely still.

"You need her."

"Yes."

"You need your personal assistant."

"Yes."

Celia nodded slowly. "I see. And what exactly do you plan to do about this need?"

Damien straightened his shoulders. "I want a divorce."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Celia's face went white, then flushed red with fury.

"A divorce." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes. I've already filed the papers."

"You've already—" She couldn't finish the sentence. Her hands shook as she set down her phone.

From the hallway came the sound of hurried footsteps. The staff was definitely listening now, probably pressed against doors and peering around corners.

Alfred stepped forward. "Perhaps I should give you both some privacy"

"Stay," Celia commanded. Her voice was different now. Dangerous. "I want witnesses for what I'm about to say."

She walked to the bar and poured herself a glass of wine. Her hands were steady now. Too steady.

"You think you can just divorce me and run off with little Celeste into the sunset?"

"It's not about"

"Do you remember your private office at home? The one with the security cameras?"

Damien's blood turned to ice. "What are you talking about?"

"I know about the cameras, Damien. I know you watch her. I know you record everything." Celia took a sip of wine. "I also know you kept copies of some very interesting footage."

"Celia"

"Naked footage. Very explicit footage. Footage that would destroy that poor girl's life if it ever got out."

The color drained from Damien's face. "How do you"

"I have friends too. Friends who work in tech. Friends who know how to access private servers." Her smile was poison-sweet. "I have copies of everything."

Alfred made a small sound in his throat. Even he looked shocked.

"You wouldn't." Damien's voice was hoarse.

"Try me. File for divorce, and those videos end up on every porn site on the internet. Your precious Celeste becomes famous for all the wrong reasons."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Celia pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. "Want to see a preview?"

"Don't."

"Then we understand each other." She set the phone down. "You will not divorce me. You will not see her again. You will be the perfect husband, and I will be the perfect wife. Just like we've always been."

"And if I refuse?"

Celia's eyes went cold as winter. "I'll burn this whole house down before I let you leave me for her. I'll destroy both of you so completely that you'll wish you'd never been born."

The room was silent except for the tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. Even Alfred seemed frozen in place.

A sharp knock at the front door broke the spell.

"I'll get it," Alfred said quickly, clearly desperate to escape the tension.

"No." Celia held up a hand. "Let Maria get it. You stay here."

The knocking came again. Louder. More insistent.

"Fine." Celia walked toward the foyer. "But this conversation isn't over."

She opened the front door. A man stood on the doorstep wearing dark sunglasses despite the late hour. He was tall, well-dressed, with graying hair at his temples.

"Good evening," he said in a smooth voice. "I'm looking for my wife."

Celia went white as paper. She grabbed the doorframe for support, her knees nearly buckling. The color drained from her face completely.

"What's wrong?" Damien appeared behind her. "Who is it?"

The man's smile widened as he removed his sunglasses, revealing cold blue eyes. "Hello, Celia. It's been a long time."

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Damien looked between them, confusion clear on his face.

The man extended his hand toward Damien with casual confidence. "Nathaniel Pierre. Celia's husband."

The words hit the foyer like a thunderclap. Damien's face went slack with shock. Alfred made a small, strangled sound from behind them.

"Her... what?" Damien's voice was barely a whisper.

Nathaniel's smile was razor-sharp. "Did she never mention me? How rude. We've been married for years now. Legally speaking, of course."

Celia finally found her voice, though it came out as a croak. "You're not supposed to be here."

"You think i wouldn't find you.. You greatly exaggerated, darling." Nathaniel stepped closer to the doorway. "Though I understand why you might have hoped otherwise."

Damien stared at his wife—or the woman he thought was his wife. "Celia. What is he talking about?"

But Celia couldn't speak. She stared at Nathaniel like she was seeing a ghost, her whole body trembling.

"This changes everything, doesn't it?" Nathaniel said softly, his eyes moving between them. "Your divorce papers, your threats, your little power games—all meaningless now."

He looked directly at Damien. "You can't divorce a woman who was never legally your wife to begin with."