In Four years
731 Words
Chapter 2POV: Celeste SebastianFour years had slipped by, but some memories refused to fade.Enzo Cole—the name alone could silence a room. The heir to the Cole empire, the golden boy who never bowed to anyone. Yet, here he was, still living in Silverton, far from the family estate in Ascalon.No one understood why he stayed away. Except me—and his loyal aide, Liam.The truth was simple: Enzo was tangled in a silent war with me.The woman who vanished without a trace after that night—the night we shared and changed everything.Enzo’s reach was vast. He controlled the country’s largest conglomerate, with loyal soldiers and cutting-edge tech at his command. Yet, no matter how many files he scanned, how many cameras he hacked, Celeste Sebastian’s shadow remained nowhere to be found.His mother, Mrs. Cole, was at her wit’s end, repeatedly begging him to return home and fulfill his duty.“Enzo,” her voice cracked over the phone. “Your nephew just found a girlfriend. You’re thirty-two. People are starting to whisper you’ll be an old bachelor.”I heard the smirk in Enzo’s voice as he paced through the airport terminal, phone pressed to his ear.“They call me Mr. Cole. Who dares question my reputation?”The silence on the other end was thick. Mrs. Cole coughed, choking on her own despair.Enzo was the spoiled one, the wild stallion no one could tame. She had raised him to be headstrong, and now that she wanted control, it slipped through her fingers like water.“I’m not a child anymore, Mom. If you’re sick, get help. I have a security check.”“Wait, Enzo!” she pleaded, voice trembling. “Brighton’s close to Ascalon. Stop by after your work. I miss you.”Brighton. Over thirteen hundred kilometers away.Enzo flicked open his cigarette case, fingers brushing the cold metal.“If time allows,” he said, ending the call.Before he could hang up, a soft tap on his shoulder froze him in place.He turned and found a girl—youthful, vibrant, with a plaid skirt that hinted at innocent rebellion and white knee-high socks.“Sir, you dropped this.”A business card fluttered at his feet. The phone was still in his hand.“What did you call me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.The girl smiled, eyes flicking to the cigarette case. “Just a reminder—no smoking here.”“Celeste,” a voice called sharply from behind her.She waved, then turned back to Enzo.“I’ve been waiting,” he said, lips curling into a sly grin.Outside, the driver glanced impatiently at his watch, waiting for the elusive author C. S. Lawrence.Two girls, both young, approached him.“Are you extras?” he asked irritably.One laughed. “They think I’m only good for extras, Celeste!”Celeste rolled her eyes and popped a lollipop into her mouth.“I’m C. S. Lawrence. I wrote The Twenty-Fifth Hour.”The driver blinked in disbelief.Kezia, Celeste’s assistant, smirked. “Cute act, huh? But don’t be fooled—she’s far from innocent.”The driver snapped out of his daze and opened the car door eagerly.“Ms. Lawrence,” he said, “can I get a photo? My girlfriend’s a huge fan.”Celeste raised an eyebrow, amused by his enthusiasm.The ride was swift.Soon, Celeste lay on the hotel bed, the weight of the past settling around her.Silverton—my home again.I thought about my father, Connor, and the cold distance that defined our relationship. Despite all the hurt, he was still family.But the night in the presidential suite—the night my dreams shattered—reminded me I was nothing but a pawn in their game.Kezia climbed onto the bed beside me, breaking my reverie.“So, what’s the plan now? Run away when this job’s done?”I smiled bitterly. “I’m here to give him a surprise. My father. He’ll see what I’m worth.”Kezia shivered at the cold in my voice.Though I looked young, innocent even, my heart was scarred deep.I wasn’t the girl they thought I was.Kezia changed the subject quickly.“What about that man?”I turned to her, a slow smile spreading.“Which man?”She laughed, eyes gleaming.“You know—the one who slept with you that night.”
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