Pressure points
1081 Words
They returned from the lakehouse two days later, stepping right back into the storm they had tried to escape.
No warning.
No pause.
Just fire.
.....
It started the moment Celeste turned on her phone.
Missed calls from Liam.
Twelve messages from Zane.
Three voicemails from Jace.
A single text from her father: “We need to talk. Today.”
And trending all over the internet?
The headline that made her stomach twist:
“Damon Cross and Celeste Monroe: Secrets, Scandals, and Leaks—What Are They Hiding?”
Along with that photo from the lake trail, now zoomed, filtered, dissected frame by frame by bloggers, students, and strangers with too much time on their hands.
....
Celeste didn’t go straight to her dorm.
She didn’t even go back to class.
She went to Liam’s office, top floor of Monroe Corp, a building built like a fortress.
The moment she stepped through the glass doors, his assistant looked up nervously.
“He’s in a meeting ..”
“He’ll make time.”
The double doors swung open seconds later.
Liam stood from behind his desk, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
She closed the door behind her and crossed her arms. “Yell at me, if you want. But let’s not pretend I don’t deserve to be here.”
He didn’t yell.
Instead, he sighed and sat.
“Celeste… we’re not angry. We’re… concerned.”
“That’s always code for you don’t trust me.”
“We do,” he said. “We just don’t trust him.”
“You don’t know him.”
“He doesn’t let anyone know him.”
“He lets me.”
Liam stared at her, jaw tense. “There are things you don’t understand. His business… his connections… the media.”
She stepped closer, voice rising. “I’m not a child you can shield anymore. I’m in this. With him.”
Liam’s eyes softened, barely.
“I see that,” he said. “But if he breaks your heart, Celeste… no one in this city will be able to protect him from us.”
..
Damon, on the other hand, wasn’t talking to family.
He was sitting in a private boardroom, his legal team laid out in front of him, and his PR manager already mid-rant.
“We've traced the leak. Someone from the Monroe campus. A student with internship ties to one of the tabloids.”
“Name?” Damon asked.
“It’s in the file,” the lawyer said. “But here's the problem, this goes deeper. There are patterns in the leaks… someone’s being fed details that couldn’t have come from students. Someone close to you.”
Damon’s jaw flexed.
“Someone on the inside?” he asked.
“Yes,” the manager said. “Maybe a staff member. Maybe even someone on the board. Someone who wants this… connection to Celeste to look like a liability.”
Silence fell over the room.
Then Damon said, quietly but clearly:
“Burn the bridge. I want them out. I don’t care who it is.”
...
Meanwhile, Celeste returned to campus under a new kind of spotlight.
This time, the whispers weren’t just curious, they were nasty.
Bitter. Loaded with jealousy, suspicion, and pure fascination.
“She’s only with him for the money.”
“Of course a Monroe would bag a billionaire.”
“Probably some twisted power play between two rich families.”
And the worst?
“She’s not even that pretty.”
Celeste didn’t respond. She didn’t flinch.
But the words sank. Quietly. Deeply.
Ava noticed the shift.
“Want to skip class?” she asked, nudging her.
Celeste blinked. “And go where?”
“Anywhere no one knows your name.”
Celeste smiled faintly. “Impossible.”
---
That night, she called Damon.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” she said, curled under her blankets in the dark.
“You’re not,” he answered, his voice low and steady.
“I feel like I’m being picked apart.”
“You are. And you’ll survive it.”
“I don’t want to just survive,” she whispered. “I want to live.”
Damon was silent for a moment. Then:
“Then we take control. No more hiding.”
Celeste’s heart raced. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Press conference. Public statement. We don’t let them tell our story, we tell it ourselves.”
Celeste sat up, stunned.
“You’d do that? Go public?”
“I’d stand on a rooftop and scream your name if it meant you’d feel safe again.”
She went quiet.
Not because she doubted him, but because, for the first time… she believed him.
---
The next day, Celeste received an invitation.
Gold-embossed. Private event. Monroe family gala. Press allowed.
And Damon was on the guest list.
She stared at it in disbelief.
Zane called her an hour later. “We pushed for it. All five of us.”
“You invited him?”
“Don’t make it weird,” he said. “We’re not throwing petals at his feet. Just… giving him a chance. For you.”
Her voice cracked slightly. “Zane…”
“You love him, don’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then he better show up.”
...
The gala was held in a glass-ceilinged ballroom downtown, chandeliers dripping crystal, violins playing softly in the background, reporters hovering like vultures outside.
Celeste wore a midnight blue gown, her hair swept up, heart racing.
Liam met her at the entrance. “You ready?”
“No,” she whispered. “But I’m here.”
And then,
Damon arrived.
Black tux. Unbothered expression. But his eyes, only for her.
The press went wild.
Flashbulbs. Shouts. Speculation.
He walked straight through the chaos, straight to her, and extended a hand.
“Shall we?”
She took it.
And the room fell quiet.
Midway through the evening, one of the reporters, desperate for a soundbite, called out from the edge of the crowd:
“Mr. Cross! Are you and Miss Monroe officially a couple?”
Everyone turned.
Damon paused.
Then, slowly, he reached for Celeste’s hand, lifted it gently, and kissed her knuckles.
“Yes,” he said clearly. “And I don’t hide what I care about.”
The crowd erupted.
Cameras flashed.
But Celeste didn’t care.
Because right then, all she saw was him.
And all she felt… was home.
- Writer
