After days of relentless questions and flashbulbs in her face, Celeste could barely think straight. She was tired of trying to explain herself, tired of repeating the same truths no one wanted to hear.
Damien saw how worn down she'd become, the way she flinched at every noise, the way she barely slept. He finally suggested what she hadn't dared to consider: leaving for a while.
"Go somewhere quiet," he'd said. "Somewhere they can't reach you."
It had taken a moment for the idea to sink in. A vacation? Now? It felt almost impossible — but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.
They planned it quickly. Just the two of them, leaving the country for a few weeks to let the worst of the scandal die down. Damien took care of most of the details — flights, a rented villa somewhere calm and private, far from gossip columns and microphones.
Celeste felt a guilty sort of relief.
But as the days ticked down to their departure, the harassment somehow got worse. Every headline seemed more vicious than the last, reporters showing up at places they had no business knowing about. It was as if someone was feeding them every step Celeste took.
That suspicion burned in Damien's mind until he started making a few quiet inquiries of his own. The answers didn't surprise him, but they disgusted him all the same.
Maureen.
She had tipped off reporters. She had shared private details with gossip columnists, even paid a few to dig deeper. She could not stand that Celeste had been defended, that she'd been protected.
Maureen wanted to see her broken.
Damien confronted Elise and Jean about it privately, his voice tight with anger. "She's the reason the reporters keep showing up," he explained. "She's behind almost all of it."
Elise looked devastated, shaking her head in disbelief. "After everything…"
Jean sighed heavily. "Maureen has always been jealous. But this—this crosses a line."
Celeste stood quietly nearby, absorbing their words. Her hands felt cold, her mind buzzing.
"I don't want to stay here anymore," she admitted. "If we don't leave now, I don't know if I can handle it."
Elise hugged her close. "Go. Rest. We'll deal with Maureen."
The day they left, the sun was just breaking over the horizon, casting pale gold across the driveway. Damien loaded their suitcases into the car while Celeste took one last look at the house that had become her haven and her prison at the same time.
She tried not to think about the cameras, the shouting, or the hate.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she was choosing peace.
As the car pulled away, Damien reached for her hand.
"Focus on us," he told her. "The rest can wait."
She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Okay."
And as the city fell away behind them, Celeste felt the tiniest spark of hope that maybe, somewhere out there, she could figure out who she really was — without an audience to judge every step.