Chapter 14
1550 Words
Calla didn’t return home that night.
Or the next.
Her phone stayed off, her location disabled, and her heart—fractured beyond repair.
She had wandered until her feet gave out, checked into a boutique hotel under her mother’s maiden name, and stared at the ceiling for hours. Damian’s confession played in her head like a scratched record. Over and over and over again.
She had been manipulated.
Protected, yes. But also betrayed.
And the worst part?
She had loved him anyway.
By the third morning, her tears were gone. She had burned through heartbreak and found something colder waiting underneath:
Resolve.
Calla Vale was no longer just a pawn in Damian’s twisted game.
She was going to rewrite the rules.
Her return was quiet but calculated.
She stepped into the penthouse in a fitted black coat, sunglasses shielding her unreadable expression. Damian stood from the couch as if he’d been frozen there for days. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw covered in stubble.
“You’re okay,” he whispered.
She nodded once. “I’m here to talk. Nothing else.”
He moved toward her, but she held up a hand.
“No lies. Not this time.”
Damian stopped cold.
Calla slowly removed her glasses. Her eyes were tired, but fierce.
“I know what Celeste is doing. I know what you tried to protect me from. But from now on, I don’t want protection. I want power. I want to end this.”
“You have it,” he said, voice hoarse.
“No.” She tilted her chin. “You have it. Vale Industries, the media, the story. I want control of the narrative now.”
Damian studied her. “What are you planning?”
She smiled faintly. “A press conference. Tomorrow morning.”
His brows furrowed. “You want to go public?”
“Yes.” She moved to the mirror by the stairs and pulled her hair into a sleek bun. “But not with the truth. Not the full one, anyway. I want to give the public a different ending to our love story.”
“You mean the fake one?”
“I mean the one where I choose me.”
He looked at her as if she’d transformed into someone else entirely.
Maybe she had.
“Calla—”
“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” she interrupted softly. “But I’m done waiting for people to decide my worth behind closed doors. Celeste tried to bury me in secrets. You tried to keep me in a box made of good intentions. It’s time I break out.”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Damian said, “Then let me stand beside you.”
She turned.
“I’ll take care of Celeste, the board, the media—whatever you need. But let me be part of this.”
Calla stared at him for a long beat.
Then shook her head.
“This part of the journey?” she said. “It’s mine.”
And with that, she walked into the guest room—the same one she used to sleep in when she was pretending not to fall for him—and shut the door.
The next morning, the press gathered outside the Vale Foundation building.
Cameras flashed.
Calla stepped out in a white silk blouse, tailored navy slacks, and heels that clicked with every purpose-filled step. Damian was nowhere in sight. This was her moment—and she was ready to take it.
She stood behind the podium, took a deep breath, and began:
“Good morning. I won’t take much of your time. I know rumors have been flying about my marriage, my past, and my worth. Today, I’m here to speak for myself.”
Silence fell like snow.
“I entered into this marriage under complicated circumstances. And yes, some of it was strategic. Some of it was survival. But love? That part was real. And like all things real, it was messy. Painful. Beautiful. And ultimately—unsustainable.”
A few gasps.
“I will not be continuing this marriage contract. Not because of media pressure. Not because of leaked documents. But because I found something more powerful than love.”
She paused.
“Self-respect.”
Flashbulbs exploded.
Calla smiled, controlled and unshaken.
“I’m not broken. I’m not weak. I’m not a victim of anyone’s story. I am Calla Monroe Vale, and I choose to walk away from anything that dims my light—even if it once felt like the sun.”
The applause was hesitant at first.
Then thunderous.
Calla stepped back, let the press shout their questions, and walked away without answering a single one.
She didn’t need to.
Her silence was louder than their noise.
Back at the penthouse, Damian was waiting.
He’d watched the entire conference on mute. He didn’t need the sound—her expression said everything.
Pride. Strength. Heartbreak.
And finality.
Calla walked in like a queen returning from war.
He stood. “You really meant it.”
She nodded. “I did.”
He searched her face. “Does that mean we’re done?”
A long pause.
“I don’t know what we are,” she admitted. “But I know what I need. And right now, that’s space. I’m not leaving the penthouse yet—it’s still my name on half of it. But I’m drawing boundaries.”
He nodded slowly. “And Celeste?”
“She’ll come after us again,” Calla said, removing her coat. “But this time, I’ll be ready.”
That night, Celeste struck back.
A new leak.
A video.
It spread like wildfire across gossip blogs and underground forums:
Calla Monroe drunk in college, arguing with a professor. Slurring. Cursing. Allegedly threatening him.
It looked bad.
It wasn’t recent. But it was enough.
Calla stared at the video from her laptop, jaw clenched.
“Where did she get this?” she whispered.
Damian appeared behind her, fury in his eyes. “She’s trying to ruin you.”
“She’s using my past against me.”
He placed a folder on the desk.
“What’s this?”
“Everything I have on her.”
Calla opened it.
Inside were documents, surveillance photos, witness accounts.
“She’s been blackmailing powerful men for years,” he said. “Executives. Politicians. Even journalists. She builds relationships, then threatens to expose them if they don’t do what she wants.”
Calla flipped through the pages.
Then paused.
“This one,” she said, holding up a photo.
Damian nodded. “Senator Pratt. He was caught covering up a financial scandal. Celeste helped him spin the story, then kept proof in her possession.”
Calla’s eyes gleamed.
“Then it’s time someone exposed her.”
The plan was dangerous.
Calla would confront Celeste in person, while Damian used the distraction to hack into her encrypted vault. If they got everything, they’d leak it anonymously.
Calla knew the risks. Knew Celeste could destroy her with a whisper.
But she also knew something Celeste didn’t:
Calla was no longer afraid.
She requested a meeting at a luxury hotel suite. Neutral territory. No Vale bodyguards. Just her and the woman who tried to erase her.
Celeste arrived fashionably late in a blood-red dress.
“Well,” she said, sipping champagne. “Look who decided to stop playing the victim.”
Calla smiled coolly. “I thought it was time we stopped pretending.”
Celeste smirked. “You’ve grown claws, darling. How cute.”
“I’m not here to be cute.”
“Then why are you here? To beg for your husband back?”
“I’m not here for a man,” Calla said, voice icy. “I’m here for the truth.”
Celeste raised a brow. “Whose truth?”
“Yours.”
That’s when Celeste noticed the small microphone clipped to Calla’s dress.
Her smile faltered.
“You’re recording me?”
“I’m exposing you.”
Celeste’s face darkened. “You’ll regret this.”
“No,” Calla said, rising from her seat. “You will.”
And she walked out—leaving Celeste alone with her unraveling empire.
That night, the leak hit every major platform:
Celeste Ainsworth Accused of Blackmail, Bribery, and Extortion — Anonymous Sources Drop 300+ Pages of Evidence
The media flipped. The narrative turned.
And Calla Monroe Vale became the woman who stood up, fought back, and refused to stay silent.
Even the college video became irrelevant.
Buried under a storm Celeste couldn’t escape.
Back at the penthouse, Damian met her in the hallway.
She was quiet.
Tired.
He opened his mouth—but she held up a hand.
“No apologies.”
“I wasn’t going to apologize,” he said gently. “I was going to say thank you.”
She looked up.
“For what?”
“For saving me from her. For saving yourself.”
A long pause.
Then, softly, he asked:
“Do you still love me?”
Her voice was a whisper.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “Because I love you enough for both of us. And I’ll wait until you remember how.”
She swallowed hard.
Then walked past him.
But her shoulders had softened.
Just a little.
- Writer
