August gently helped Celine into his car, carefully buckling her seatbelt. She was still trembling, her eyes wide and unfocused, trapped in the shock of what had just happened.
He glanced at her, voice steady but soft. "You're safe now."
As he started the engine, the city lights blurred past, but inside the car was a quiet bubble of tension and unspoken worry. Celine's hands clenched the edge of the seat, her breath shallow, trying to process the nightmare she'd barely escaped.
August kept his eyes on the road but glanced at her every now and then, wondering how to reach through the haze of fear. "You're not alone."
August's hands were steady but his heart raced as he carried Celine through the dimly lit streets. Her breath was shallow, her body limp against his chest. He ignored the curious glances of passersby, focusing only on getting her to safety.
The familiar creak of his front door felt like a small victory. Inside, the warm glow of the fireplace softened the harshness of the night. Gently, he laid her down on the couch, careful not to jostle her too much. His eyes scanned her face, bruised, pale, but still stubbornly defiant.
He moved swiftly, grabbing a damp cloth and wetting it with warm water, pressing it gently to her cheek where a faint red mark was beginning to form. His touch was gentle, almost reluctant, as if afraid to break the fragile line between stranger and something more.
"Stay with me," he muttered, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, concern, maybe even regret.
Celine's eyelids fluttered, the faintest sign of awareness, and August felt a flicker of hope. He sat by her side, silence settling between them like a fragile truce, the storm outside forgotten for now.
This was just the beginning.
August didn't move from the couch, his eyes fixed on Celine's fragile form. The house was quiet except for the crackling fire and her soft, uneven breathing.
He wanted to ask her a hundred questions, but none felt right. Instead, he simply waited, the weight of the night pressing down on him. When she finally stirred, her eyes meeting his with confusion and pain, he offered a small, reassuring nod.
"You're safe here," he said quietly. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again."
For the first time since that night, Celine allowed herself to lean on someone else. And August, who had always prided himself on being the strong, silent type, felt a fierce protectiveness rise up inside him.
Outside, the city buzzed on, but inside, a fragile sanctuary had formed, one built not on words but on silent promises.
Celine's eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light barely making it through the curtains. Her vision was blurry, but as it cleared, panic began to rise. She scanned the decent parlour, heart pounding, this wasn't her penthouse.
Her gaze landed on August, who was busy in the kitchen, unaware she'd woken. His strong, tattooed hand moved with practiced ease as he prepared something to eat. The sight grounded her slightly, but confusion flooded her mind.
Where am I? How did I get here? The questions churned in her head as she struggled to sit up, wincing from the pain still lingering.
August glanced over his shoulder, noticing Celine was awake. "Hey," he said softly, wiping his hands on a towel. "You're awake."
Celine swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Where... am I?" Her voice was hoarse.
"In my place," August replied, approaching with a warm smile but careful not to startle her. "You needed a safe spot. You were hurt."
She looked around again, trying to steady her breathing. The unfamiliar surroundings felt strange, but the calm presence of August kept the panic at bay,for now.
"Breakfast is almost ready," he said, nodding toward the kitchen. "You should eat something."
Celine hesitated but then nodded slowly as August nodded and pulled a chair over to the couch, sitting near Celine but giving her space. The aroma of the food filled the room, something simple, comforting.
"I didn't want to leave you alone," he said quietly. "Whatever's happening… you're not facing it by yourself."
Celine's mind raced, but for a moment, the weight on her chest eased. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, feeling the first flicker of strength returning.
"Thank you," she whispered.
August smiled, then stood and motioned toward the kitchen. "Come on. Eat."
He slid a plate across the table to her. "I didn't know what you preferred, so I did a little of everything."
Celine forced a small smile and nodded, picking at the food. Her head felt heavy, and confusion swirled in her mind. The events of the previous night, the break-in, the struggle, were like broken fragments she couldn't piece together.
She kept stealing glances at August, who seemed calm and focused, unaware she was still trying to process everything.
Finally, she swallowed hard and said quietly, "I... I don't remember much from last night."
August's expression softened. "You're safe now. That's what matters."
Celine nodded, but inside she felt far from safe.
She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "I remember someone breaking in. But everything after that is… fuzzy."
August nodded slowly, reaching out to cover her hand with his.
"You were scared. You held on to something, a document, I think. They wanted you to sign it."
She glanced down at his hand, feeling the warmth and the strength in that simple touch. "I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want to drag anyone else into this."
"You don't have to be alone," August said quietly. "Not anymore."
She looked up at him, gratitude flickering in her eyes. "Thank you, August."
***
Nolan POV Ex's:
The mirror shattered under the force of his fist, spiderweb cracks racing across the glass. Blood trickled from his knuckles, but he didn't care. Fury burned hot and cold inside him, more lethal than any blade.
"She got away."
The words tasted like poison, repeating in his mind. He had paid good money for those thugs to make sure she signed over everything,her property, her life. Not this pathetic escape into the night.
His jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "I told you... make her submit. No mistakes."
He slammed his fist again, breathing heavy, eyes wild with rage and obsession. This wasn't over. It would never be over until she was broken, silenced, and under his control.
He hadn't meant for it to go this far.
As he stood staring at his bloodied reflection, breathing uneven and rage still coiled in his chest like a beast, Nolan let his thoughts spiral.
This wasn't supposed to be messy. He had only been trying to take what was his… what was owed. He married her, didn't he? Played the doting husband, smiled at her staff, tolerated her silences and mood swings.
At first, it was a game, an arrangement. She was beautiful, sharp-tongued, and richer than she even knew. But when he found out what her previous husbands had left behind? The estates. The stocks. The fashion patents. All in her name.
That was when the greed bloomed.
He remembered sneering, "She must be good in bed," like a joke. So he tried her. Took his turn. Played her like the others did. But she didn't break. She didn't beg. And when she left, he knew, he hadn't won her, he was played.
And Nolan couldn't stand being played.
She made him feel small. Invisible. Disposable.
So no, this wasn't about love, or even pride anymore.
This was about power.
She thought she could walk away with everything? He would rather burn her empire down than let her keep it.
She was good at playing the game.