The endless praise for Sebastian and Celeste, hailed as the golden couple of the family, rang in my ears like grinding metal. Sebastian’s gaze swept over me, indifferent, as if I were nothing more than a shadow slipping through the grand hall. I felt utterly invisible, a ghost among men who had once claimed to respect me.
Staring at the man I had devoted five years of my heart and loyalty to, it finally hit me why my parents had always warned me about my judgment. They were right—I had been blind, hopelessly blind.
I hadn’t realized that Celeste, his ever-loyal partner-in-waiting, had been entwined with him all along, hiding in plain sight while I poured everything into his rise.
Being a Frost had never made me incapable of maneuvering through the treacherous corridors of power. I had the cunning to lift him to the pinnacle of our family’s influence, and just as easily, I could tear him down from the heights he now occupied.
Clutching the resignation papers in my hand, I started to leave that suffocating room of deceit, determined to reclaim some control over my own life.
But as soon as I stepped forward, Mr. Webb, the family’s consigliere, materialized before me, a false smile plastered on his face.
“Arwen,” he said, adjusting his glasses with a practiced air of authority, his tone a thin veneer of civility over steel. “No need to rush off just yet. Before stepping down, you’ll need to sign a declaration affirming that none of your actions while under this family’s roof continue to affect our business. You’ll also be required to sign a binding non-compete clause—preventing you from leveraging your connections to steal clients or allies once you leave.”
Not long ago, I had been Sebastian’s partner, respected and feared, my ability to broker alliances earning me the deference of everyone in the room. Mr. Webb had once bowed to me, addressing me as “Mrs. Veylor” with every ounce of calculated reverence. That time had passed. Now, he looked down at me with a smug, self-satisfied grin, as if diminishing me could restore his own sense of power.
I studied his pathetic display and replied, voice cold as steel. “A declaration? A non-compete? And why, exactly, would I ever sign either of them?”
His smile vanished, replaced with a hard, sharp edge. “Because of your dirty little schemes. The family has already shown mercy by not pressing charges. Do not mistake our restraint for weakness.”
I laughed, bitter, sharp, and unrestrained. “Dirty schemes? Evidence? Or are you referring to those conveniently misinterpreted images?”
Celeste sauntered forward, heels clicking on the polished marble floor, her manicured finger jabbed toward my phone. “Isn’t the proof right there in your device? Who knows how many contacts you’ve hoarded? Step out of here, and who’s to say you won’t use them one by one to secure a new alliance?”
Before I could react, Mr. Webb lunged for my phone. My fingers brushed it—but then it was gone.
“Give it back!” I snapped.
Celeste snatched it with a triumphant smirk, retreating just enough to mock me fully. “Look at you, so nervous. Clearly, there’s more you don’t want anyone seeing.”
She turned to Sebastian, prompting him to try unlocking it. They tested every possible code—his birthday, mine, even the day we had first acknowledged each other as partners in the family—but the device stayed locked. Sebastian’s patience snapped. He ripped the phone from her hands and barked at the security men to restrain me.
He tried the facial recognition feature—but multiple failures forced the system to default to the passcode.
“What’s the password?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.
Since the day we had formally aligned, the passcode had always been the date he first admitted his feelings. I could almost smile at the irony—he had forgotten. Not surprising.
Failing to access my phone in front of the family only deepened his humiliation. His pride crumbled, his expression darkening as a storm of rage built within him, second by second.
“You keep insisting those photos were a misunderstanding—so why change your password?” he spat, irritation heavy in every word.
“It’s the date you first confessed to me,” I said, calm, steady.
Sebastian froze, struggling to recall that moment. His expression twisted into a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to regret—a masterpiece of emotion undone.
I wrenched free from the guards’ grip, snatching my phone back. Sebastian watched in silence as I unlocked it effortlessly. His lips parted, as if to speak—but no words came. The tension between us hung heavy, like a winter storm frozen over the family estate.
