Driven by Revenge

"I've got a multimilliondollar international conference tonight. I won't be home.

Don't bother me." My husband's voice buzzed through the phone speaker, dripping with a sickeningly fake, arrogant impatience.

I sat in the darkened car, my nails digging into my palms as I watched him guide his childhood sweetheart around the street corner, his hand resting intimately on her lower back. "Okay.

Ah—" The man behind me thrust forward without warning, the sudden, brutal friction shattering the end of my sentence into a broken gasp. "What are you doing?" The voice on the line spiked with sharp suspicion.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting copper as I jabbed the endcall button.

A thick, heavily muscled arm locked around my waist like a vice, slamming my chest hard against the cold glass of the car window.

Scalding, predatory breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of my neck. "Shh, good girl.

Keep your eyes on him." His voice was a dark, gravelly rumble against my ear. "Do you think your lying piece of shit husband can see you begging for me in the dark?" Chapter 1 News of Celeste's return to the States had dominated the trending tabs for a solid month.

When I arrived at the VIP lounge to pick up Nathaniel, I paused outside the private room. Through the gap in the door, I heard his buddy ask, "Celeste is coming back soon.

What are you going to do about Sloane?" Nathaniel's voice was flat. "Do about what?" "Come on, man.

She's still your legal wife." Through the cracked door, I watched Nathaniel clamp a cigarette between his teeth. The pale smoke obscured his lowered eyes.

He let out a scoff. "She said it herself. No matter how far I push it, she won't ever leave. She's too obsessed with me." His friend chuckled in agreement. "True.

Her family went bankrupt ages ago. She only snagged you because she threw herself at you, using that face—the cheap knockoff of Celeste." "It's honestly pathetic.

Do you guys even know what she did back then…" I stared coldly at that arrogant, untouchable face through the crack. My nails dug into my palms as I balled my fists.

Then, I kicked the heavy oak door wide open. My stilettos struck the hardwood floor, echoing with an aggressive, sharp rhythm. "Nathaniel." The private lounge went dead silent.

Every head snapped toward me. Their eyes dragged over me like I was a piece of trash interrupting their private club.

Nathaniel draped his suit jacket over his forearm and stood up. "I'm heading home." He didn't say a single word during the walk to the underground garage.

He waited until I fired up the engine before breaking the silence. "You heard everything out there, didn't you?" I turned my head to look at him. "I saw your shadow." He rapped his knuckles against the passenger window. "Sloane, you always know exactly where you stand.

You know what to say and what to keep to yourself. In a month, I expect you to be just as wellbehaved. Don't try anything stupid." I understood perfectly.

Nathaniel was giving me a hard warning. He was terrified I might use some dirty trick to hurt his precious, untouchable first love.

Because in half a month, Celeste was flying back to the States. I knew exactly what I was long before Nathaniel and I got married. A placeholder.

My family had lost their fortune years ago. I only caught Nathaniel's eye—and became his fiancée—because my face was a nearperfect match to Celeste, the Alist celebrity.

My parents had been ecstatic. My father, Gregory, drilled the same threat into my head every single day. "Nathaniel choosing you is the only thing keeping our family afloat.

If you piss him off, your mother and I will disown you on the spot." For three years of marriage, I catered to his every need.

But whenever he looked at me, it was always from a pedestal of pure arrogance. When the alcohol really took over, he would hallucinate.

He would bury his face in my neck, mistaking me for Celeste, his voice cracking into a desperate plea. "Why did you leave me? I married someone else now.

Do you regret it?" In those moments, Nathaniel's grip was brutal, twisting into a sick physical torture. The second I tried to pull away, he would sneer. "What?

Your parents sold you to please me, and this is how you act?" Under the glaring lights, his gaze bore into me, cold and heavy with absolute authority.

The small mole on the bridge of his nose stood out sharply in the shadows. My body locked up. My eyelashes fluttered once, and I forced my eyes shut in submissive silence.

Snapping back to the present, I tightened my grip on the leather steering wheel. "Got it," I answered quietly.

Chapter 2 The day Celeste landed, the arrivals terminal was suffocated by a mob of screaming fans.

Nathaniel had hired a crew to construct a fiftyfoot corridor of imported roses right at the gate.

Celeste walked down that floral runway, tears welling in her eyes, before throwing herself into Nathaniel's waiting arms at the end. Someone caught the exact moment on camera.

Slapped with a cinematic filter and a sickeningly sweet caption, the clip blew up on the trending pages instantly. [ An Unfading Obsession. ] Celeste was the golden child of the wealthy Song family, untouchable and flawless.

When she first debuted in Hollywood and started dating Nathaniel, they made sure the entire world knew about it.

Even after they broke up, even after she went abroad to "study," even after Nathaniel married me, the internet still worshipped them as a tragic, starcrossed power couple.

In the dim light of the corporate parking garage, I sat paralyzed in the driver's seat. A sharp, violent cramp twisted my stomach into a knot.

I doubled over, pressing my fist hard into my abdomen as my thumb scrolled through the trending tags.

Right beneath Nathaniel and Celeste's names was mine. [ Sloane the Cheap Knockoff. ] [ Golddigging slut.

Celeste is so unlucky to have this leech copying her. ] Her fanbase loathed my existence.

To them, I was just a bankrupt nobody who used a similar face to scam my way into the elite class.

The wildest conspiracy theories claimed I was the homewrecker who forced Celeste into exile. They dragged my name through the mud on a weekly schedule. Nathaniel never defended me.

Not once. A few months ago, a notification had lit up his locked phone screen.

A text sent directly to Celeste. [ If tearing her apart makes you feel better, I'll pay a PR firm to pour gasoline on the fire.

Can you just come back sooner? ] That was the exact second the illusion shattered. The online hate mob wasn't just rabid—they were fully funded and encouraged by my own husband.

I stared blankly at the toxic comments swarming my screen. My thumb hovered over the glass to forceclose the app, but a new tag abruptly skyrocketed to the top of the feed.

In a matter of seconds, it crushed Nathaniel and Celeste's fairytale reunion, hijacking the number one spot. [ Declan Returns ] That familiar name slammed into my chest.

The air hitched in my throat. By the time I processed it, my fingertips were visibly shaking against the glass screen. I tapped the video.

A man in a plain black tshirt strode through the chaos. His jawline was a sharp, unforgiving cut, a distinct, dark mole resting on the bridge of his straight nose.

His expression was dead flat as he walked right through the center of the crowd, his heavy combat boots effortlessly crushing the elaborate rose runway into a pulpy mess.

Nathaniel stepped into his path, blocking him. "Are you blind? Watch where you're walking." The man tilted his head.

A diamond stud caught the aggressive flash of the paparazzi cameras. "My apologies." His voice was a low, mechanical drawl, devoid of emotion.

His dark eyes dragged over Nathaniel like he was looking at a minor stain on the concrete. "Give my agent a number.

I'll cut a check for the trash." "You think this is about money?" "If it's not about the money…" Declan glanced down at the ruined, bruised petals sticking to the soles of his boots.

He slowly lifted his chin, locking eyes with Nathaniel. "Then what?

Are you trying to scam me?" In the comment section, Celeste's stans and Declan's fanbase were tearing each other apart. [ Who does this guy think he is?

Just because he's hot doesn't mean he can act like trash. ] [ He's a literal World Champion.

He's a million times hotter than a cheating scumbag who flaunts his side piece in public. Get your eyes checked. ] World Champion. Those two words froze the blood in my veins.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up his profile.

Declan, the dualcrowned king who absolutely dominated both the European underground racing circuit and the elite esports leagues.

And now, he had just returned to the States, armed with billions in backing from overseas syndicates and a skyhigh megacontract.

Between his ruthless, apexpredator skills and that aggressively flawless face, he commanded an army of fanatical followers across the globe. He was a god now.

Untouchable, blinding, and entirely out of reach. Chapter 3 I pressed my fist hard against my cramping stomach.

My vision blurred, and suddenly, I was dragged back to seven years ago. In the middle of a torrential downpour, he stood on my porch like a desperate, provoked lone wolf.

He hammered his fists against my front door, soaked to the bone, his eyes burning with a dark possessiveness that threatened to swallow me whole.

My phone screen had lit up with his texts. [ Are you really throwing me away? ] [ Did I do something wrong… did I hurt you? ] … [ Sloane, don't ever come crawling back to me. ] After dropping that final, venomous threat, Declan blocked my number across every platform and let his family ship him off to Europe.

For seven years, he was a ghost. I never expected to see him again, let alone watching him crush the sickeningly romantic floral runway my husband built for another woman.

The absurdity tasted like ash in my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I could already picture those razorsharp, devastating eyes scanning the [ Sloane the Cheap Knockoff ] trending tags, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. What would he think?

Probably that I got exactly what I deserved. Night fell, and the house stayed empty. Nathaniel never walked through the door.

My screen lit up with a single text: [ I have a networking dinner tonight. Go to sleep. Don't wait up. ] Muscle memory took over.

My thumbs flew across the keyboard: [ Do you need me to pick you up? ] The second I hit send, reality crashed down on me. Celeste was back. This wasn't a corporate dinner.

It was a lavish welcomehome party his fratboy circle threw exclusively for her.

Right on cue, Nathaniel's reply popped up, dripping with toxic condescension: [ Do I have to spell it out for you?

Sloane, know your damn place. ] I locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the mattress. I walked into the bathroom and stood under the scalding shower until my skin turned raw.

Stepping into his home office, I smoothed out the crisp divorce papers my lawyer had drafted that afternoon, placing them dead center on his mahogany desk.

When I walked back to the bedroom, the phone screen glowed with a new friend request. [ Name: Declan. ] I stared at those six letters until they blurred.

My lungs expanded as I took a deep, jagged breath. I tapped accept. Almost instantly, an image loaded on the screen. It was a dimly lit VIP booth at a highend club.

Nathaniel had his arm wrapped tightly around Celeste’s waist, his lips pressed intimately against her cheek. My vision swam.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, my fingers trembling as I typed: [ Did you add me just to watch me humiliate myself? ] Declan didn’t reply right away.

The typing bubble hovered at the top of the screen, dragging the temperature in the room down to freezing.

A minute later, a new message flashed. [ Do you want to destroy them? ] … The bass pounded through the floorboards of the underground club.

I stared at the booth number glowing on my screen, scanning the chaotic crowd. I turned to grab a passing waiter. "Over here." A scorching grip clamped shut around my wrist.

Before I could scream, I was yanked backward, crashing hard against a solid, violently hot chest.

A scent—dangerously familiar and entirely foreign—flooded my lungs, an intoxicating mix of expensive leather and dark amber. My spine locked up.

A massive, calloused hand spread wide across the back of my neck, forcefully pressing my face into the crook of his shoulder. "Don't make a sound." Declan’s voice vibrated directly against my ear.

The low, gravelly rasp was deliberately suppressed, sending a violent shiver down my spine. "Your husband and his little pet just walked by.

It’d be a shame if they caught you." His tone dripped with raw, unapologetic mockery. A sharp heat burned at the back of my eyes.

Seven years ago, Declan wasn't this ruthless predator. Back then, he was pure, burning intensity.

He used to pin me against the grand piano, kissing me senseless until I couldn't breathe.

He would rest his forehead flush against mine, his chest heaving, his voice a desperate whisper. "Sloane, tell me we're going to be together forever.

Say it, or I'm never letting you go." Chapter 4 "How much longer are you planning to hold onto me?" Declan's voice cut through the heavy air, pulling me straight out of my memories.

I snatched my hands back, staring up at that fiercely familiar face. At this proximity, the brutal coldness settling in the sharp angle of his brow bone was impossible to ignore.

I forced my lungs to expand, keeping my voice dead flat. "Sorry." Declan took total control for the rest of the escape.

He navigated the labyrinth of dim VIP corridors like he owned the place, shoving open a heavy steel exit door and directing me toward a sleek, gunmetalgrey Lamborghini idling in the alley.

The engine roared to life. He gunned the accelerator, instantly locking onto Nathaniel's taillights a few blocks ahead. I gripped the leather armrest. "Are you out of your mind?

You can't drive drunk." "I don't drink." Declan shot me a sideways glance, his jaw set. "Alcohol dulls reaction time.

On the track or in the arena, a microsecond of lag gets you killed." He was talking about a brutal, highstakes world I had zero part of.

My throat tightened, leaving me with absolutely nothing to say. We tracked them to the gates of an ultraexclusive penthouse complex.

Through the windshield, I watched Nathaniel wrap a protective arm around Celeste as they disappeared through the gilded double doors.

I finally broke the suffocating silence. "You said you wanted to destroy them.

How?" Declan arched an arrogant brow, his long finger tapping his own chest. "I'm offering you the ultimate weapon." A wicked, dangerous smirk tipped the corner of his mouth. "How about we pay Nathaniel back?

Eye for an eye, bed for a bed." His private penthouse was located just blocks from his multimilliondollar training compound.

The second the heavy front door clicked shut, his massive hands clamped over my shoulders, slamming my back hard against the cold concrete wall.

His long, calloused fingers aggressively caged the back of my skull.

He stopped a mere millimeter from my mouth, his dark eyes entirely consumed by a predatory hunger. "I'm going to kiss you now, and you're not allowed to say no." … "Don't flatter yourself." Bathed in the fragmented city lights bleeding through the floortoceiling windows, he held my gaze and let out a low, raspy chuckle. "I just need to get into character." My nails bit into my palms until it stung. "Do it," I whispered.

His mouth crushed mine instantly. There was zero hesitation, just a bruising dominance that obliterated my senses.

Scalding breath scorched the sensitive skin of my neck, trailing a line of fire downward as his heavy hand gripped the fragile curve of my shoulder blade, pinning me in place. "You've lost weight," he murmured against my collarbone.

The feral edge in his voice unexpectedly cracked, bleeding into a deadly, bruised softness. "I'll take it easy on you." Seven years ago, I was the one pulling all the strings.

I was the one who dragged him into my mess, and the second things got hard, I was the one who ruthlessly cut him loose. Declan had to despise every inch of my soul.

The realization felt like swallowing a mouthful of battery acid, corroding my chest from the inside out. Suddenly, the crushing weight against my body vanished.

Declan’s voice snapped like a freezing whip against my ear. "Sloane. You're spacing out while I have you pinned to a wall." His jaw ticked furiously. "What?

Too busy fantasizing about your cheating piece of trash husband?" He slapped the wall switch.

Blinding overhead lights flooded the entryway, exposing every jagged, ugly piece of my broken pride.

I didn’t know the first thing about his cutthroat gaming world, but those rabid online fanbases made one thing crystal clear. Declan was a global icon now. Untouchable. Filthy rich.

I had absolutely no right to drag a god down into the toxic, rotting sewage of my failed marriage.

I peeled my spine off the wall, forcing myself to stand perfectly straight. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice dead and hollow. "This war is between him and me.

It was a mistake to drag you into this crossfire." The apology didn't diffuse the bomb; it poured gasoline on it. A dark, terrifying laugh tore from his throat.

He lunged, caging me back against the concrete with ten times the force, his mouth colliding brutally with mine. "Too late for regrets now… sweetheart." Chapter 5 Through the grueling, deliberately drawnout hours of the night, fragments of my past crashed back into place.

Seven years ago, Declan was pure, reckless energy. Now, the brute force had evolved into lethal, calculated precision.

He still had the nerve to brush his thumb over my flushed cheek, wiping away a stray tear as my lungs burned for oxygen.

The corner of his mouth curved into a wicked smirk. "Crying already?

Sweetheart, your husband really doesn't know what he's doing, does he?" … Sunlight bleached the bedroom when I finally opened my eyes.

My phone violently buzzed against the nightstand. I swiped the screen. "Where are you?" Nathaniel's voice snapped the second the call connected. "The office." "Get your ass home.

Right now." His breathing was heavy, serrated with suppressed rage. "Sloane, who gave you the right to file for divorce?" I tapped the endcall button and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress.

A heavy, ironclad arm instantly hooked around my waist, yanking me flush against the tangled sheets.

Declan pinned my shoulder down, his jaw locked hard. "Are you just going to use me and run?" I forced air into my lungs.

My fingers clamped over his thick wrist, slowly prying his grip loose. "I have to go back.

I need to clean up my mess." The second my hand pushed open the front door of the penthouse, a thick stack of legal documents slammed into my face.

The sharp edge of the paper sliced across my cheekbone. I swiped a thumb over the sting, staring blankly at the smear of bright red blood on my skin.

Nathaniel stood a foot away, his posture rigid, casting a dark shadow over the marble floor. "You're divorcing me because Celeste is back?

Did you just figure out about her today?" He stepped closer, his voice dripping with venom. "You practically begged to marry me. You volunteered to be her cheap standin.

What the hell is this stunt?" I dropped to one knee, silently gathering the scattered divorce papers off the floor.

I stood up and locked eyes with him, my voice dead flat. "Your family kept mine afloat for a few years.

But I singlehandedly secured that billiondollar Pine Ridge contract for your firm. We're even." "Even? In your dreams." Nathaniel scoffed.

He closed the distance in two massive strides, his fingers clamping brutally around my jaw, forcing my head up. "You're throwing a tantrum because of a few pathetic hashtags online?" I didn't say a word.

He took my silence as a surrender. A twisted, arrogant laugh spilled from his lips. "Listen to me, Sloane. Get down on the carpet and beg me right now.

If you can please me like you used to, maybe I'll show some mercy." "I won't freeze your credit cards, and I might even throw some PR resources your way, how about that?" A cloying, sickeningly sweet perfume assaulted my senses.

Celeste's signature scent. I didn't even have to look hard to spot the fresh, dark hickeys decorating the side of his neck and collarbone.

Right before his mouth could crash onto mine, I shoved my hands hard against his chest. "Don't forget Celeste is back." Caught off guard, Nathaniel stumbled backward, his spine slamming into the heavy mahogany console.

His jaw ticked, a dark, dangerous shadow falling over his face.

I stood in the doorway, shooting a cold, disgusted glare at the red marks on his neck reeking of cheap perfume. "I'm leaving the trash behind, and that includes you.

Tomorrow, my lawyers will slam the updated asset division papers right on your desk." He dragged a thumb over the corner of his mouth, letting out a dark, mocking sneer. "Acting tough now?

Sloane, you're just a dog I feed. In one month, I want you crawling back here, begging on your knees for me to marry you again." I didn't waste another breath on him.

I turned on my heel and walked out, letting the heavy door slam shut behind me.

Chapter 6 Stepping out into the glaring sunlight, I pulled out my phone and permanently blocked my parents across every single contact list and social media app. Zero hesitation.

Swiping up, Declan's unread texts sat on my screen. [ Heading to the training compound. Closed camp.

Match in two weeks. ] [ If there's an emergency, call this number. ] A tendigit string followed.

I stared at the glowing screen for a long second, the pad of my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, I typed a single word. [ Okay ] Declan never texted back.

A few days later, his name exploded across the trending tabs again. [ DeclanBurnerAccount ] [ DeclanCeleste ] Tapping the tags, I realized some rabid internet sleuth had unearthed a private, archived social media account Declan used seven years ago, right before he left the States.

The feed was a ghost town—barely twenty posts total. [ Stupid girl, bringing me cheap convenience store black coffee. ] [ Can't even focus on the game knowing I'm seeing her later.

Fuck. ] [ I'm so obsessed with her. ] [ Practicing how to kiss. ] The final post was dated seven summers ago. A lowres, grainy photo taken on a beach at dusk.

A teenage boy and girl kissing, their profiles barely visible against the fading violet light.

The caption was exactly two words. [ Endless Summer. ] The internet completely lost its mind. [ Wait, did anyone see the photo of Declan and Celeste on his burner? ] [ He hasn't dated a single person since he left the country.

He's been hung up on Celeste this whole time! ] [ I'm screaming.

So the showdown with Nathaniel at the airport was just pure, feral jealousy? ] Fans ripped the blurry beach photo and the airport footage apart, analyzing every pixel and churning out thousands of romanticized, slowmotion edits.

In a matter of hours, Celeste was crowned the ultimate, untouchable muse of the internet. That same evening, Celeste had a primetime live TV interview.

Facing the flashing cameras, her smile was radiant, her posture flawless. "That was a very long time ago." She paused, offering a perfectly rehearsed, bittersweet smile to the lens. "It's all in the past now.

I honestly had no idea he was still so… hung up on me." Soon, eagleeyed commentators uncovered another scandalous detail.

Placed sidebyside, Nathaniel and Declan actually shared a striking resemblance—specifically that distinct, dark mole on the bridge of their noses.

The only difference was the aura. Nathaniel carried the entitled, bloated arrogance of a corporate heir, while Declan radiated the cold, untouchable apathy of an apex predator.

It didn't take a genius to figure out Nathaniel had seen the trending tags. My phone screen lit up with his incoming call. I swiped red, instantly rejecting it.

A second later, a text popped up. [ Sloane, you better give me a damn good explanation. ] I tapped block and tossed the phone onto the couch. Game day arrived in a flash.

Even though it was just a regularseason match, the hype was astronomical.

It was Declan's highly anticipated stateside debut, armed with a massive megacontract and fueled by the explosive, viral love triangle.

The viewership shattered records, hitting seventy million concurrent streams. Declan's team ruthlessly crushed their opponents 31.

During the postgame press conference, a gutsy reporter hijacked the mic, bypassing the game entirely to bring up the burner account photo. "Burner account?" Declan laced his long fingers together, resting his chin on his knuckles. "You guys are pretty good at digging up trash.

Ever considered applying to the CIA?" The reporter choked for a second, then stubbornly pushed forward. "So, is the girl in the photo Celeste?

Was your altercation with Nathaniel at the airport motivated by jealousy?" "Celeste…" Declan lowered his heavy eyelids, his dark, dangerous gaze sweeping over the crowd of breathless journalists.

A low, ruthless scoff slipped past his lips. "Like she's even worthy." Chapter 7 Half a month after returning to the States, Declan’s name hijacked the trending tabs again.

Celeste's pathetic attempt to ride his coattails backfired spectacularly, turning her into the internet's biggest joke.

In the comment sections, her fanbase and Declan’s army were tearing each other apart again. [ What a gentleman. Who talks about a girl like that? ] [ LMAO.

Your queen threw herself at him for clout, and you expect him to play nice?

Stay delusional. ] I was sitting in the passenger seat, scrolling through the toxic comment war, when a large hand suddenly snatched the phone right out of my grip. "Why are you looking at that garbage?

Look at me." My eyelashes fluttered. Under the dim, amber glow of the streetlights bleeding through the windshield, I looked up. Declan sat in the driver's seat.

Before I could process his words, his heavy arm hooked around my waist, effortlessly hauling me over the console and dropping me straddling his lap. "Can I kiss you?" he murmured.

His dark eyes locked onto mine. Before my lips could even part to answer, his low, gravelly voice vibrated against my collarbone. "Pro tip.

You don't want to reject a World Champion." … The kiss was a suffocating, endless burn.

His dominant grip slid lower, dragging a trail of electric heat down my spine, blurring the lines of danger and raw desire.

I collapsed against his broad shoulders, my chest heaving, watching the dim light cast shadows over the thick veins wrapping around the back of his hand.

A harsh, electronic ringtone shattered the heavy air. My phone lit up on the dashboard. It was an unknown number.

I swiped the screen, and Nathaniel’s voice—venomous and freezing cold—stabbed through the speaker. "Sloane." I bit down hard on my lower lip, desperately fighting to suppress my shattered breathing. "Where the hell are you?

I need to see you." "I… Ah—" Before I could finish the sentence, the man beneath me thrust upward with brutal force, the sudden, aggressive friction shattering my words into a broken gasp.

Nathaniel paused, his tone dropping into a lethal, venomous whisper. "…What the fuck are you doing?" My throat constricted. I couldn't form a single syllable.

Using the last ounce of my strength, my trembling finger jabbed the glowing red button, instantly killing the call.

Declan pressed his lips directly against the sensitive shell of my ear.

His movements turned darker, more ruthless, while his voice dropped into a predatory, mocking whisper. "Do you think he heard you?" That night, Declan dragged me back to his penthouse.

Those long, calloused fingers—the exact same ones that flawlessly executed milliondollar plays on a mechanical keyboard—moved with terrifying, lethal speed over my skin.

Outside the floortoceiling windows, a torrential thunderstorm battered the glass, soaking the entire world in absolute, drowning heat. … Since Nathaniel hadn't actually signed the papers yet, I kept the divorce completely off Declan's radar.

But somehow, he found out anyway.

Overnight, his mocking label for Nathaniel smoothly transitioned from "your husband" to "your exhusband." At the end of the month, a massive, ultraexclusive charity gala dominated the city.

The organizers explicitly invited both Declan and Celeste, aggressively setting the stage for maximum media crossfire.

When I stepped out of the tinted SUV alongside Declan, I frowned, utterly confused. "Why did you bring me?" He arched a sharp brow, a dangerously cocky smirk tugging at his lips. "To piss off your exhusband.

How's that for a reason?" Right on cue, Celeste walked through the gilded double doors with Nathaniel.

She was draped in a blinding, custom silver gown, her chin tilted up in her signature, arrogant pose.

But Nathaniel, whose arm she was desperately clinging to, locked his dark, venomous stare directly onto me. His expression was brutally ugly.

I had seen that exact look on his face countless times before—but always fueled by toxic jealousy over Celeste’s overseas scandals. Never for me.

The moment the tedious award ceremony wrapped, Celeste suddenly floated over to our table, two crystal flutes of champagne balanced in her hands.

She extended one toward Declan and me. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, batting her mascaraheavy lashes. "The girl in that old photo just looked exactly like me, so I naturally assumed… I apologize if the media circus caused you any trouble.

Can you forgive me?" "No." Declan didn't even blink. He looked at her like she was a stain on the marble floor. "Is your brain completely stuffed with Botox?

The people in that photo are making out, and a delusional freak like you actually has the nerve to claim it's you. Miss Song, who exactly are you?

How the hell did security let a psychotic stalker like you into the building?" A flash of pure, ugly humiliation cracked through Celeste’s heavily contoured face.

Her knuckles turned white around the stem of her glass. But in the end, she forced her trembling lips into a sickeningly sweet smile. "Well.

I suppose no one will ever make that mistake again." The second the heavy door clicked shut behind us, a sudden, unnatural heat ignited in my veins, scalding my blood.

My mind flashed back to the crystal flute of champagne Celeste had shoved at us during her toast. Dammit. That drink was spiked! I locked the deadbolt and turned to face him.

Sweating and desperate to ground myself, I finally forced out the question that had been burning in my chest for days. "That photo…" Chapter 8 I stared at the dark, toxic hatred buried deep in her eyes, a sudden, crawling unease knotting my stomach.

After the gala ended, Declan and I checked into the penthouse suite provided by the organizers. "I took it secretly.

That time at the beach." Declan admitted it without a second of hesitation.

A selfdeprecating smirk tugged at his lips. "I actually thought you asked me out to talk about our future." A sharp, stinging burn hit the back of my eyes.

Judging by those old burner posts, he had been practically vibrating with excitement. And the second we got back from that beach, I completely shattered him.

I dumped him without a single ounce of hesitation. I parted my lips, desperate to say something.

Declan’s expression instantly turned lethal. "Don't make a sound." My phone buzzed aggressively. Twitter was literally exploding.

The top two trending tags glaring on the screen were: [ Sloane Cheating Wife ] [ Declan Homewrecker ] Before I could even process the absolute nightmare, a chaotic stampede of footsteps thundered down the hallway.

Seconds later, the heavy electronic door—which I had specifically deadbolted—burst open with a deafening crack. A massive horde of paparazzi swarmed the suite.

Dozens of camera lenses shoved into our faces, the blinding strobes flashing like a rave. "The cheating sluts are right here!" Declan violently kicked his heavy gaming chair out of the way, aggressively pulling me behind his broad back.

His dark eyes locked onto the crowd like a grim reaper staring down his prey. "Actually, don't worry about it, my Queen. I'm going to make these suicidal idiots pay