Celeste POV
The knock came once at the door. Then it came again, firmer this time.
I stood motionless in the center of my penthouse suite, the hem of my satin robe brushing my ankles. The TV behind me still played muted headlines, my own face now accompanied by phrases like “investigation,” “fraud,” and “leaked recordings.”
I didn’t move to answer the door. I already knew what was coming.
Three more sharp knocks sounded, then a firm, official voice called out: “Federal agents. Ms. West, “ we need you to open the door.”
I breathed in and walked to the door. I met my own gaze in the glass, taking in my calm facade. But the moment I opened it, everything changed.
Two agents stood on the threshold. No SWAT gear. No grand entrance. Just the weight of inevitability in their black coats an
