Falling for Lucien

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Celeste POV

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Robert Valen began smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the thick air like a blade and the whispers in the ballroom faded into a stunned silence.

“I apologize for the abrupt turn of events this evening.”

Even before my mind caught up, my brain rushed to supply me with all the information I needed, fragments of memory in my head—Robert Valen, patriarch of the Valen family. He was a ruthless industrialist and power broker, selfish and only thought about himself.

But he was charming so as he approached the stage with perfectly measured stride,and adjusted the microphone he had everyone in his palm.

“We called this press conference because there’s been a sudden realignment of family alliances.”

Realignment? Fancy name, passing me off. My fingers tightened around the hem of my gown.

Beside me Adrian tried not to flinch and kept his expression was blank, his jaw clenched tightly, while his eyes fixed on anywhere but on me.

Robert’s lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes.

“The engagement between Adrian and Miss Celeste Arden will henceforth be transferred to Lucien Valen, effective immediately.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience, followed by the staccato flash of cameras and a barrage of shouted questions.

“What prompted this sudden change?”

“Does the Arden family agree to this?”

“Is this because of the rumors about Adrian and Miss Elara Wynn?” Someone else called out, I was not answering those questions, I turned my head slightly and caught the woman in question now standing away from the cameras and Adrian's side .

Pity filled my gut for the original host,Celeste Arden had loved Adrian obsessively.

She’d believed their engagement was fate, and couldn't entertain the fact that he could fall in love with someone else. The humiliation of this very night had driven her to take her own life in the back seat of her car.

I remembered watching that episode, half-eating stale popcorn, mumbling at the screen for her to move on but now I was living her life.

Robert continued talking, thanking the guests for their understanding, but most of the sound faded into a dull roar.

The flashing cameras, the whispers, the pitying looks—every single thing about this glittering ballroom felt suffocating all of a sudden.

I made to move when a reporter—an overeager man with slicked hair and no sense of self-preservation—shouted,

“Miss Arden! How do you feel about being replaced? Did you know about the affair between Adrian Valen and Miss Wynn?”

The room froze.

I turned my gaze toward him slowly.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the fury that wasn’t entirely mine—but something dark and icy slid through my veins.

My glare cut through the noise like a whip.

“Ask that again,” I said softly.

The reporter paled and it was as if no one dared to breathe. Even Robert paused mid-sentence.

“Didn’t think so,” I muttered, lifting my chin before stepping away from the podium.

Adrian grabbed my arm and hissed

“ Where are you going,” I glanced at the arm he was holding and then up at him without saying a word and he let go clearing his throat.

“ Thought so” I muttered underneath my breath as I stormed out of the room.

Let them whisper. Let them film. I wasn’t going to play the sobbing victim in this story.

Not anymore.

I descended the steps, ignoring the people calling me and the eyes on me. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, echoing as I strode past the gawking crowd.

By the time I reached the entrance, rain had already begun to fall outside—thick, relentless drops pounding against the pavement like applause from the heavens.

My car was waiting at the curb, a sleek and black car, the driver quickly stepping out to open the door.

“Miss Arden—”

“Just drive,” I said, sliding into the back seat. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

The moment the door shut, I slumped back against the leather seat, exhaling shakily.

For a moment, I let myself believe it was a dream—that I’d wake up in my cramped apartment, the taste of instant noodles still lingering in my mouth, the TV droning in the background.

But then my phone buzzed.

It was sleek, a way more expensive model than the one I owned. I picked it up hesitantly. A message blinked on the screen—an image attached.

It was Adrian. And Elara.

Kissing in the back of a car.

I stared at the picture for a long, cold minute before scoffing under my breath.

“How poetic,” I muttered.

“The happy couple celebrating my public execution.”

With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the phone aside and it hit the opposite seat with a dull thud.

The rain grew heavier, slashing across the windows like streaks of silver,the faint reflection of my face stared back at me—emerald eyes, flawless makeup, not a single tear in sight.

The original host had cried until her mascara ran down her face and then she had slit her wrists and died quietly in the back seat while the driver kept on driving unaware of the blood seeping into the seats.

I shuddered the mental image sending chills through my gut, I swallowed hard.

“Not this time,” I whispered.

The driver glanced at me through the rear view mirror.

“Miss Arden, are you all right?” my driver asked from the front seat, glancing back with concern.

I didn’t answer immediately. My fingers clenched the fabric of my gown, heart still racing.

Was I all right?

That had to be the question of the century, I’d just been yanked out of my own world—my apartment—and dropped into a fictional life that I was never meant to survive past ten episode.

And then, her death would catapult Elara into tragic stardom, earning her sympathy from the nation and solidifying her relationship with Adrian.

“Miss Arden? Are you alright, should I take you home?”

Home. Right. The Arden estate—the opulent mansion I now apparently lived in.

I forced a small smile.

“I’m fine,” I muttered finally, leaning my head against the window. The cold glass beneath my temple, grounding me.

“Yes. Take me home.”

He nodded, pulling away from the curb. The rain drummed against the windshield, the city lights bleeding into the downpour like watercolor.

As we drove, the foreign memories continued to unravel in my mind—snapshots of Celeste’s life blending with my own. Her father, a warm man who really had no head for business or the machinations that came with it. Her mother who was colder but not emotionless,she ran their family business with an iron fist and would be pissed by this news.

All things considered the original host had been lucky to have good parents and friends so at least I had that going for me.

I almost laughed at the absurdity.

“So I’m the cannon fodder now,” I murmured underneath my breath

The driver gave a polite, confused glance.

“Pardon, Miss?” he mumbled and I shook my head distractedly

“Nothing. Just… drive faster.”

I was the cannon fodder , except now… I was in control and I wasn’t going to die for anyone’s character development

Outside, thunder rolled across the city and my pulse echoed with it. If this world wanted me to play the doomed heiress, it had chosen the wrong actress.

Because I knew how this story ended and I wasn’t about to die for a man much less Adrian Valen.

Maybe it was time to rewrite the script.