Celeste stepped out of the black SUV into a wall of flashing lights and quiet murmurs that erupted into a wave of applause the moment she appeared. The Clean Slate campaign launch wasn’t a red carpet event, but it might as well have been. Camera crews lined the sidewalk, reporters with notepads and phones aimed like weapons of curiosity, and a massive banner above the building entrance bore her name alongside the campaign logo.
Damien exited from the other side, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, no tie, his presence commanding without needing a word. He walked around the vehicle and took her hand without hesitation.
She gripped it tightly, drawing from his calm the way she had learned to.
“Are you ready?” he asked, voice low so only she could hear.
Celeste looked out at the sea of face
