A Change in Her
Celeste barely made it back to her desk before the numbness settled in.
No.
Not outside his office—inside.
Because Adrian had made sure of that.
Her desk, her chair, her entire existence had been pulled into his orbit, placed right inside his domain.
And now, trapped in this glass-walled prison, she had nowhere to hide from the storm brewing inside her.
"Emily is back."
The words echoed like a curse, sinking into the cracks she had tried so hard to seal.
It shouldn't have mattered.
It shouldn't have hurt.
But it did.
A sharp, aching pain that clenched around her chest and refused to let go.
Celeste inhaled deeply, shoving every emotion into a neat little box and locking it away.
"This is a good thing," she told herself. "This is the reminder I needed."
Adrian Sinclair was never hers to begin with.
She forced her trembling hands to steady, focusing on the reports before her. Numbers. Graphs. Contracts.
Nothing else mattered.
And then—
"She just landed, man. I just got off the phone with her."
Celeste's fingers froze over the keyboard.
Ethan's voice wasn't loud, but the glass walls of his office did little to muffle the conversation. He wasn't even trying to hide it.
"We're having dinner. Come with us. She also wants to see you."
Ethan's voice carried through the space, filled with excitement. Like this was something to celebrate.
Celeste swallowed.
The rustling of fabric. The soft clink of Adrian adjusting his cuff.
And then—his voice.
"Yeah... I figured."
A pause.
Then a soft exhale.
"I'll go."
Celeste stopped breathing.
Adrian was going.
Of course, he was. Why wouldn't he?
The suffocating ache inside her chest threatened to break free, but she refused to let it. Not here. Not now.
She forced herself to keep typing, pretending she wasn't listening. Pretending she didn't care.
And then—his voice cut through the silence again.
"I'll see you tonight."
The final blow.
A confirmation.
A decision.
Celeste didn't realize how hard she was gripping the pen until the tip snapped, ink smearing across her fingers.
She didn't care.
Didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
Her heart had already bled out completely.
The call ended.
And then—
"Celeste."
Her head lifted, her gaze meeting Adrian's as he leaned against his desk, arms crossed.
For a moment, she could swear there was something in his expression.
Hesitation?
Doubt?
Regret?
No. That was wishful thinking.
She lifted her chin, keeping her face blank. "Yes, Mr. Sinclair?"
Adrian's jaw tightened at the formality.
Still, he pushed off the desk, grabbing his watch. "I have a dinner tonight. Ethan invited me."
Celeste nodded, expression unreadable. "Understood."
His eyes narrowed. "Emily will be there."
Nothing.
No reaction.
Not even a blink.
Celeste simply flipped the page of the report in front of her, as if his words were nothing more than background noise.
"I see," she said coolly. "Then I hope you enjoy your evening."
Adrian stilled. That was it?
No sarcastic remarks. No cutting insults.
Not even the smallest hint of jealousy.
"Celeste," he said carefully. "Emily is just a friend."
Celeste laughed.
Soft. Breathless. Sharp as a knife.
And when she finally lifted her gaze—it was ice-cold.
"Mr. Sinclair," she said evenly, "you don't need to explain anything to me. What you do—who you see—is none of my concern."
Adrian's lips parted slightly, as if taken aback.
Celeste offered a polite, distant smile. "Is there anything else, sir? Or are you done wasting my time?"
For the first time in years—
Adrian had no words.
He stared at her, expression unreadable, his grip tightening around his watch.
Then, without another word, he turned and left.
The door shut behind him.
And Celeste...
Finally let herself breathe.
The moment his footsteps faded down the hallway, her vision blurred.
Her hands curled into fists on her lap, nails digging into her palms, but it did nothing to stop the shattering inside her.
She had promised herself she wouldn't cry.
Not over him. Not anymore.
But the tears fell anyway.
Silent. Violent. Endless.
Because Adrian had finally broken her.
Not with cruel words.
Not with rejection.
But with hope.
A hope she should have never let herself feel.
And now, as she sat there—alone, drowning in heartbreak—she knew the truth. She always did.
Adrian Sinclair had never been hers.
And no matter how much she had tried to fight it...
She had never been his.