Chapter 20 Harmony and Justice
Celeste Bellerose
The perfume bottle sat on the table between them, a silent threat wrapped in satin and silk.
Celeste stared at it, heart hammering, pulse unsteady. She could still smell the scent, light and familiar—a ghost of a memory turned into a promise of danger.
Nick hadn’t moved since crushing the box in his grip. His jaw was clenched, eyes burning with a fury she recognized all too well.
“Talk to me, Malone.” Her voice was steady, but her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Nick’s eyes turned up to meet hers, still dark, still dangerous. “He’s not done.”
No names. No need. They both knew who “he” was. The stalker. The real threat.
Nick exhaled sharply, shoving away from the counter. “We should leave again. Go somewhere safe until we figure out who’s behind this.”
Celeste lifted her chin. “No.”
Nick’s expression darkened. “Celeste—”
“No,” she repeated, steel in her voice. “I won’t run. I won’t hide.”
Nick swore under his breath. “It’s not hiding. It’s keeping you alive.”
Celeste took a step closer. “I’ve spent my life playing by everyone else’s rules—Juliette’s, my father’s, the industry’s. I’m done.” She gestured to the perfume. “This? It’s meant to scare me. To make me feel powerless. I won’t let it.”
Nick ran a hand down his face, frustration evident. But she caught something else there too—reluctant admiration.
“I need to do this,” she said, softer now. “I need to take back control.”
He exhaled and nodded once. “Then we do this my way.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “Meaning?”
Nick grabbed his phone, dialing. “We lay a trap.”
***
The towering glass facade of Bellerose International Headquarters loomed over Manhattan’s skyline, a sleek testament to power, wealth, and ruthless ambition. The morning sun glinted off its mirrored surface, reflecting its cityscape.
Inside, the lobby stretched wide and imposing—polished marble floors. There were floor-to-ceiling windows casting sharp beams of daylight against the elegant modern decor. Every inch of it screamed prestige.
And today? It belonged to her again.
The moment Celeste stepped through the revolving doors, a hush rippled through the grand entryway.
Employees seated at their sleek, minimalist desks lifted their heads, their chatter dying on their lips. One by one, they rose. Not out of obligation. Not out of uncertainty.
But respect.
Celeste’s heels struck against the marble with crisp precision, each step echoing through the space like a declaration. She wasn’t just walking back into her company. She was reclaiming it.
The receptionists behind the expansive front desk—once Juliette’s handpicked staff—stood as well, their expressions shifting between apprehension and something dangerously close to awe.
Celeste barely spared them a glance.
The gilded elevator doors slid open the moment she approached, as if the entire building knew who was in charge now. Without hesitation, she stepped inside, the mirrored walls reflecting the unshakable determination in her eyes.
Twenty floors later, the doors whispered open to the executive level.
The hallway leading to the boardroom stretched before her, lined with framed magazine covers featuring the Bellerose legacy—her father’s empire. Her empire. Each image whispered of legacy, prestige, power.
But today, she was done living in the past.
She strode through the doors, straight into the heart of the battlefield.
The board members were already seated around the long mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully blank, though some fidgeted under her gaze.
Good.
Celeste didn’t sit. She stood at the head of the table, the position that had once belonged to Juliette.
Not anymore.
She clasped her hands together, letting the silence settle before speaking.
“This is how things will be moving forward.”
She wasn’t nervous.
She wasn’t afraid.
She was in charge.
The CFO, Harold Castille, cleared his throat. “Miss Bellerose, I assume you’re aware of the circulating concerns—”
“Concerns,” she echoed, tilting her head. “Such as?”
“The…situation with Juliette. The headlines. Investors are uneasy.”
Celeste placed her hands on the table. “Juliette is gone. And every last corrupt deal she brokered is being erased.” She turned to her assistant, who handed her a sleek folder. “These are the official reports confirming that Juliette embezzled over two million dollars from our accounts.”
Murmurs spread through the board. Shock. Fear. A few poorly concealed curses.
Celeste let the revelation settle before she continued. “I am reclaiming control. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you tender your resignation now.”
Harold swallowed. “And if we support you?”
Celeste’s smile was sharp. “Then you’ll be part of something much greater.”
A shift. A pause.
Then, one by one, the board members nodded.
Her empire was back where it belonged.
With her.
***
Meanwhile, Nick and Graham were hunting.
Nick’s instincts screamed that the stalker was closer than expected. The perfume wasn’t just a threat—it was a goddamn signature. A taunt.
They combed through footage from Celeste’s penthouse, searching for anything unusual.
And then, they found it.
A shadow. A man lingering outside her building at odd hours. Always just out of sight. Always just on the edge of the cameras.
“Son of a bitch,” Graham muttered.
Nick’s grip on the desk tightened.
He wasn’t just watching. He was planning.
“We need to draw him out,” Nick said, voice sharp.
Nick’s grip on the desk tightened as he watched the footage.
And if he thought for one damn second that Celeste was his prey—he was about to learn exactly how wrong he was.
Graham nodded, clicking through another angle of footage. “I can run facial recognition, but this guy is smart. He sticks to blind spots. No clear shots.”
Nick exhaled sharply. “Then we give him something worth stepping into the light for.”
Graham arched a brow. “Bait?”
“Yeah. But not Celeste. Me.” Nick was quick to proclaim.
Graham blinked. “You think he’s stupid enough to come for you?”
Nick’s smirk was dark, lethal. “If he thinks I’m in the way, he won’t be able to resist.”
Graham hesitated. “You’re sure about this?”
Nick didn’t hesitate. “Positive.”
This bastard wanted to play games?
Nick was about to call checkmate.
***
Celeste barely had time to sit down, reclaiming her office, before her assistant rushed into the office, heels clicking against the marble.
“Miss Bellerose, you have a visitor.”
Celeste arched a brow. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
Her assistant shifted, lowering her voice. “It’s Adrian Wolfe.”
A cold chill slithered down Celeste’s spine.
Adrian Wolfe.
Juliette’s ghost in the shadows. The man with deep pockets and deeper secrets. The kind of man who played chess while the rest of the world played checkers—and left no one standing when he won.
Her fingers curled slightly against the polished surface of her desk, but her expression remained carefully composed.
“Send him in.”
The office doors swung open, and Adrian stepped inside.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. The very definition of controlled arrogance.
Adrian moved like a man who had never known fear, his sharp gaze sweeping the room as if he already owned it. His tailored charcoal suit was flawless, his gold cufflinks catching the light—a subtle display of wealth and power.
A lesser person would have felt small beneath his presence.
Celeste Bellerose was not lesser.
She leaned back in her chair, exuding the same unshakable confidence he did, her fingers tapping once—slow, deliberate—against the armrest.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Monsieur Wolfe?”
His lips curved at the edges, a slow, deliberate movement that never reached his eyes. “Straight to business. I admire that.”
Celeste didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just waited.
Adrian exhaled, adjusting his cuffs like he had all the time in the world. “I have a proposition.”
She tilted her head, feigning boredom. “How original.”
That earned her a quiet chuckle. “Juliette made many mistakes. Costly mistakes.” He moved closer, his hands pressing against the edge of her desk, invading her space just enough to test the waters. “But there were… assets she secured. Ones that remain quite valuable.”
Celeste lifted a single brow. “And?”
Adrian’s smile was slow. Sinister. He wasn’t just here to negotiate—he was here to bait her.
“I want them.”
Celeste’s lips parted in a soft breath of amusement. Then she smirked. “And why the hell would I give you anything, Adrian?”
His eyes darkened, the glint of a predator surfacing beneath the polished veneer. “Because we both know you’d rather have me as an ally than an enemy.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken threats and a war neither was willing to lose.
Then Celeste smiled—sharp, knowing. “Funny. That’s exactly what Juliette said right before… she took her last breath.”
Adrian’s jaw ticked, but his smirk didn’t falter. Instead, his fingers curled slightly against the desk as if restraining something more dangerous.
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Celeste could feel Nick’s gun tucked against her thigh, hidden beneath her blazer.
She wasn’t afraid of Adrian Wolfe.
But she wasn’t stupid, either.
So, she smiled. Sweet. Innocent. A practiced deception.
“Well,” she murmured, fingers drumming against the desk. “Let’s negotiate.”
Adrian’s smirk deepened.
And just like that, the next move was hers.
***
That night, as Celeste sat curled against Nick in her penthouse, her phone buzzed with a message.
From Graham.
Unknown subject made contact. Trace initiated. Sending location now.
Celeste sat up, her heartbeat kicking up. Nick immediately caught the shift, his grip tightening on her hip.
“What is it?” he asked, voice low.
She turned the phone so he could see.
The location blinked on the screen. A familiar address.
Celeste inhaled sharply. “That’s… my mother’s old boutique.”
Nick’s gaze darkened. “Then that’s where we finish this.”
Celeste swallowed hard.
One last battle.
One final reckoning.
And this time?
She wasn’t the one running.