Page 14

Magnolia Steel

The restaurant is dim and polished, all brass accents and low candlelight. A place designed to seduce with sophistication. Fitting, I suppose.

I sit in a private corner booth, posture poised, breath steady, but my pulse is a war drum beneath my skin. I lift my glass and take a slow sip of wine. On the outside––calm, composed, untouchable.

Inside, I’m buzzing. Not with nerves. With resolve.

Alex would burn the world down to protect me. I’ve seen it in his eyes whenever Celeste’s name comes up or at the mention of Tyson. But this meeting isn’t about Tyson. It’s about her.

This is about shutting the door—for good—on a chapter I don’t want bleeding into the life Alex and I are building.

I’m not here to make peace. I’m here to draw the line.

Because I love him too much to let old ghosts haunt what we’re creating.

And if telling her to fuck off forever protects that peace, I’ll do it with a smile on my face.

Even if it means sitting down with the last woman on earth I ever want to see again.

The hostess leads her in from across the restaurant, and Celeste follows with a stride that suggests the world parts for her on command.

She’s walking as though she’s the best thing since champagne on ice, looking every inch the cover of Vogue Sydney.

Sculpted blazer. Impeccable blowout. Lipstick sharp enough to draw blood.

She hasn’t seen me yet. But then she does. And in an instant, the shine slips for a moment. A single breath.

Surprise. Confusion. A flicker of fear.

Her manicured fingers tighten around the strap of her bag.

“Celeste.” I nod to the seat across from me. “Sit down. We need to talk—woman to woman.”

She doesn’t move.

“I know. You were expecting Krishna. I asked her to invite you on my behalf since I was certain you wouldn’t show for me. She’s not coming. It’s only you and me.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. A slow blink. Then, without a word, she slides into the booth across from me, the stiffness in her spine giving her away.

I rest my hands together on the table. “This ends today.”

She doesn’t flinch, not right away—but her silence is a crack in the armor. One I’ve been waiting for.

I don’t waste time. I don’t need to scream to be heard.

“This campaign you’re on to win Alex back is more than old, Celeste. It’s pathetic.”

Her jaw tightens, but she still doesn’t speak. Funny. She’s always had plenty to say in the past.

I press on. “He didn’t leave you because I came along. He left because he was already gone. Emotionally, mentally—done. I didn’t break you up. You were over long before I entered the picture.”

She swallows hard, and I watch her fingers curl around the edge of the tablecloth.

“And all of this—the way you show up at Soul Sync, those magically timed accidental run-ins, the white dress at our engagement party––you’re not making a statement. You’re making a scene.”

Her eyes flash, but I don’t let her interrupt.

“I don’t say these things to humiliate you, but I do say them so you’ll understand. It’s time you accept the truth.” I lean in. “He will never choose you. Can’t you see that?”

There. A tremor. The slightest tremble of her chin.

She blinks hard and looks away. And for a breath, she looks… breakable.

I hadn’t expected that.

My voice softens. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I understand what it is to love Alex Sebring.”

She cuts me off. “I don’t love Alex.”

The words land with a thud. Not because they’re harsh but because they make no sense.

I blink. “What?”

She exhales hard, and her sharp edges crumble.

“It’s Tyson,” she says, her voice low. Raw. “It’s always been Tyson. And you’re right about something—this ends today.”

My stomach drops, and my spine straightens. The name alone shifts something in the surrounding air.

I narrow my eyes. “What does Tyson have to do with any of this?”

Celeste swallows. “Right after Alex and I broke up, Tyson found me. I was vulnerable, humiliated… and he made me feel wanted. Needed. I was in a bad place.”

Damn. That sounds familiar.

She glances around the restaurant and leans in, voice trembling. “We dated for a brief time. I thought he was harmless. Until he wasn’t.”

I don’t breathe.

Fuck.

“He used me,” she whispers. “Every question, every compliment—he was only after one thing. Information about Alex. He wanted anything he could use.”

My lips part, but no sound comes.

“And then he started his collection. Nudes I sent, videos of us having sex—things I wasn’t aware he was recording. He’d ask me to send him videos of myself doing things, which I did because I’m stupid. I don’t even know everything he has on me. But it’s enough to destroy me.”

Disgust rises in my throat.

“He’s been blackmailing me ever since. Threatening to release it all if I don’t do what he says. He’ll ruin my name, destroy my career, humiliate me in ways I’ll never recover from.”

She looks me dead in the eye. “Everything I’ve done to you and Alex was because of him. He told me to get between you and Alex and stir up drama. Become a wedge between you.”

Silence falls between us. For a moment, I can’t speak. The entire script I thought I knew just got flipped.

Celeste Worthington: perfectly pressed, perfectly poised, and until now, perfectly loathed.

But the woman sitting across from me? She’s unraveling. Her mascara might not be smudged yet, but the armor she wears is cracking, splintering.

Every piece of this insane puzzle is shifting.

The villain in my story has a villain of her own. And I hate how much sense it makes.

Her voice cuts through the silence, quieter now. Barely holding.

“I’m not proud of what I did to Alex.” She shakes her head.

“The video I leaked—God. I was angry, shocked, embarrassed, hurt. The way he looked at me when I showed him that positive pregnancy test?” Her throat works around the shame.

“It was clear he didn’t want it. Not with me. And I hated him for that.”

She pauses, and when she looks up, I see it—regret. The real kind that sticks.

“I regret that video every day. And worse than filming it was posting it. I had no right.” Her voice trembles. “No one deserves that.”

She dabs beneath one eye with the pad of her finger, reclaiming the mask as though it never slipped. But I see her now for the first time.

“Alex doesn’t deserve this,” she says, gaze locked on mine. “Neither of you do. And if there’s anything I can do to help you take Tyson down…” She swallows. “I will do it.”

“You’d really help us?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“But you’re scared. I see it.”

She nods once. “Terrified. He has everything he needs to ruin me. And the scariest part? He’s not just manipulative—he’s unhinged. Smart, too. That kind of intelligence makes him dangerous. Don’t underestimate him.”

I sit back in my seat, processing.

This isn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But the truth is a step. And suddenly, the war I thought I was fighting with Celeste has become something else entirely.

Something bigger.

Something darker.

Something we may have to fight together.

For all the things I imagined this meeting being—icy, bitter, explosive—this wasn’t it. I expected venom. Not vulnerability. I expected another power play. Not a woman cracking down the middle.

I pity her.

“I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. No one deserves that.”

Celeste looks at me, eyes dark and glassy. Maybe because she’s already given too much. Or maybe because this is what it looks like when the last thread of pride is unraveling and you’re too tired to gather it back up.

No longer adversaries, not quite allies—just two women bound by a man who’s done too much damage.

I don’t trust her. Not completely. Probably not ever. But this part? The broken, shaken confession? I believe it. And that scares me more than anything she could’ve said.

I nod once. “If you’re serious—if you want to help us stop him—then we’ll find a way.”

Celeste draws in a sharp breath.

I hold her gaze. “I need time to figure things out. To plan. This can’t be something we rush—we only get one shot to do this right. And if he really is as dangerous as you say, we’ll need to be smart about it.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. She gives a slow, trembling nod. “You must be careful with him. He doesn’t just break people. He buries them alive.”

She stands, collecting her bag. “We’ll cross paths again—Tyson’s not done, and neither are we.”

And when she’s gone, I let my shoulders relax. Because I don’t know what’s more terrifying—that she told the truth or that I must figure out what to do with it.

I close my eyes for a breath.

Tyson’s reach is deeper than I thought. Dirtier. Meaner.

And if Celeste—ice queen and spotlight darling—can be reduced to a pawn in his twisted game, what hope do the rest of us have?

For the first time since this began, I realize something.

Tyson isn’t circling me.

He’s circling all of us.