Scorned No More

The Risk I Had to Take

Three days.

That’s how long I stared at his card.

I kept it on my nightstand. On my desk. In my purse.

Not because I was unsure of him—

But because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to become the version of myself he saw that night.

Then I thought of Lexa’s face.

Kian’s lips on hers.

And suddenly, I didn’t need more time.

‘Hi, this is Celeste Hart from the Velora pitch. If the offer still stands, I’d like to talk.’

He replied in two minutes.

‘Tomorrow. 3 PM. Hotel Langston. 24th floor. Bring your vision.’

That was it.

No emoji. No polite filler. Just Damon Rhodes being exactly what I remembered—unapologetically direct.

The hotel was expensive in a quiet way.

No marble statues or gold railings. Just elegance. Quiet power. Exactly like him.

He was already there when I arrived—seated by the window, black coffee in hand. Waiting.

He stood when he saw me.

“Celeste Hart,” he said, as if testing the weight of my name. “You came.”

“You invited.”

He gave the barest hint of a smirk. “Fair enough. Let’s get to it.”

I opened my folder.

Inside: branding sketches, color palettes, campaign mood boards. Every concept I’d developed, refined, and polished in the dark while the rest of the world moved on without me.

Damon said nothing as I laid it all out. He listened. Focused. Hands folded. Expression unreadable.

When I finally stopped talking, the silence stretched.

Then he said, “You’ve done your homework.”

I met his eyes. “No one’s going to build this for me.”

A slow nod. “Good answer.”

He reached into his coat and slid a folder across the table.

Velora Studios – Strategic Partnership Proposal

My name on the top corner.

“I want in,” he said. “Fifty-fifty. I handle growth, reach, and back-end support. You stay in control of the creative. No strings. No silencing. You lead—I’ll power the engine.”

I stared at the folder. Then at him.

“Why me?” I asked. “There are other brands already out there.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Because you’re still in the building phase. That means you haven’t been watered down yet. You’ve got teeth, Hart. Vision. And fire.”

He paused.

“And because you remind me of someone I used to be. Someone who knew what rock bottom felt like—and climbed anyway.”

The breath caught in my throat.

For a moment, it wasn’t business. It was something else.

Not romantic. Not yet.

Just… real.

“Think it over,” he said, standing. “But don’t wait too long. Momentum doesn’t stick around forever.”

He left without shaking my hand.

And for a second, I just sat there—staring at my name beside his.

Celeste Hart.

No longer someone’s girlfriend.

No longer someone’s shadow.

Just me.

At the edge of something terrifying.

And thrilling.