Torn by Billionaire Brothers

Celine’s POV One hole. One peek. That was all it took for my perfect world to fall apart. Yes, you heard me right—one tiny, stupid peephole. I smiled the whole drive over, clutching the small velvet box in my hand. Inside was the custom-made diamond-encrusted watch I’d bought for Shawn: “To the moon and back, Forever Yours, Celine” etched on the case back. It was meant to be a reminder. A surprise for Shawn. A way of saying, I can’t wait to be your wife. I rehearsed the moment in my head as I drove: how his hazel eyes would soften, how he’d kiss me, how he’d pull me into his arms and tell me he didn’t deserve me but he’d spend a lifetime trying. The truth is, for every happily-ever-after, fate flips a coin—And I was in for one hell of a treat. By the time I reached the penthouse, the sky had turned into a canvas of navy blue. A few stars peeked through, but the city drowned them with its neon glow. I smoothed my dress, reapplied my lipstick in the car mirror, and told myself I looked like a woman a man would be lucky to marry. Clutching the box, I made my way up the familiar staircase, my heels clicking against the concrete. The hallway smelled more like roses and something fried from a neighbor’s kitchen. I forced a weak smile to balance my excitement and nerves. Then, I reached for the doorknob, exhaling one last time—until a faint moan leaked out through the door. With seconds stretching out like a rubber pulled too far, I bent down for a curious peek. The peephole was small. A silly thing, really, just a small circle of glass meant to protect. But as I leaned closer to the camera, a bolt of ice ran through me. It shattered, and very shard of my dream future; the house, the dog, the nursery—all tore through. Sylvia’s hair was the first thing I recognized; that silky auburn cascade I braided during sleepovers. Her lips were on his. My fiancé’s. My Shawn. He kissed her like I’d never existed. The box slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud. My pulse drummed in my ears, drowning out reason, drowning out the world. Sylvia Kane. My best friend. I’ve known her like, since forever. We had picked the wedding colors last week. She promised to stand by my side as my maid of honor. And here she was, standing on my grave, tearing my life apart with her hands all over him. Every moan that escaped her throat pierced a knife into my chest as Shawn devoured her with touches he once reserved for me. I staggered backwards, hand clamped over my mouth with tears rolling down my cheeks. How could they do this to me? The sight of the engagement ring on my finger dug deep into my chest, reminding me what a fool I was in this story. I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t know where my feet were carrying me, only that if I stayed another second, I would collapse. The night air slapped me in the face as I burst from the building, tears burning my eyes hot and unrelenting. I walked until my heels blistered, until the glitter of the city lights blurred into streaks. A ghost of memories breezed past me with every corner I turned. His touch. Her laugh. Their betrayal. By the time I stumbled at the door of a lounge downtown, the neon sign “The Golden Thread” buzzed like a dying insect above me. I trembled, staring at the ring, the diamond’s sparkle mocking me—A reminder of lies I once wore with so much pride. I yanked the cold ring off, sniffling at my pale skin where love used to sit. For the first time, in my palm, it felt like dead weight; like I ripped off a chain that choked me for 3 years without my knowledge. “Whiskey,” I muttered to the bartender, sliding onto a stool. “Neat.” The glass burned down my throat. Then another. And another; each gulp numbing the image burned into my mind. But no matter how much I swallowed, the image of Shawn banging my best friend like a w***e couldn't be erased. I was so lost in the storm of my thoughts that I didn’t notice him at first. Even in the dim lounge lighting, I could tell the waiter’s attention snapped, and a group of women across the room glanced over at the man in the corner, as if the entire place bent around him. But it wasn’t just his broad shoulders or his perfect suit screaming money that caught my attention, it was the way he carried himself, people moving aside, like sin had just walked in wearing a suit. He slid onto the stool beside me without asking. When his gaze met mine, I felt them gathering every broken piece of me, like they belonged to him. A glass slid toward me, amber liquid catching the dim light. I stared at it, then at him. “Thanks, but… I'm good.” “No worries,” he replied, lifting his glass. “Pain looks the same on everybody.” I hesitated, then clinked mine against his. The burn felt like fire, but it kept me from drowning. “You look like you’ve been running from hell,” he said, sipping his drink. My laugh was bitter, swirling the ice cubes in my glass. “Maybe I am.” “Two more,” he signalled the bartender. “And what are you?” I asked, voice unsteady. “Some kind of angel of mercy?” “Angel? No.” He leaned closer, with a light chuckle. “Think of me as…a distraction.” I should’ve walked away. I should have told him I wasn’t that kind of woman. But tonight, I wasn’t me. All I knew was that his brown eyes promised me oblivion, and right now, oblivion sounded better than heartbreak. I met his gaze. “Maybe I need one.” His eyes, dark as midnight secrets, left nothing between us. It was just him, and the way his stare peeled me open without laying a hand on me. “Then let me do my job,” he said with a smirk. For the first time all night, I really looked at this guy. His sharp jawline, the slight stubble, the dimple on his cheek when he smirked. He wasn’t smiling, but his mouth curved like he knew things—things I wouldn’t dare say out loud. I swear I forgot Shawn’s name for a second the moment his hands brushed mine. “Wanna get outta here?” he murmured. One reckless glance was all it took. I was already on my feet, my heels clicking toward the door. He guided me through the chaos as though he’d already decided where we were going. I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. And as his hand closed around mine, I knew I had just stepped off the edge.