Chapter 5
May 30, 2025
Celene’s POV
I used to think I was nobody. Small. Simple. I let Carrington’s family treat me like I was beneath them because I believed what they said. For a long time, I thought that was all I’d ever be.
Until I found out who I really am.
The car pulled up to a private estate just outside the city. No gates. No logos. No flashy guards. Just silence, surveillance, and a house that looked like its walls kept secrets.
A man in a tailored suit—silent, expressionless—escorted me down a wide corridor. The kind of suit that probably had panic buttons stitched into the lining. The floor didn’t creak. The air didn’t move.
The whole place felt like it was waiting to decide if I belonged.
At the end of the hall, he stood.
Fernand Monroe.
My father.
The man the press called ruthless. The man half of Wall Street feared. The man I hadn’t seen since I was three—except in a photo. And the man who turned out to be the owner of the Monroe Industries. The one Rhys was working for. His hair was gray, but everything else was sharp.
His eyes locked on mine like he didn’t need to ask who I was.
“You look like your mother,” he said.
I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything.
“You’re not surprised,” he added.
“I’ve been surprised enough this week,” I said.
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. He motioned to a chair. I didn’t sit.
“I assume you’ve figured it out,” he said. “Why I sent for you.”
“Because your name still matters,” I said. “But your legacy doesn’t.”
He nodded once. “Accurate.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was powerful. The kind of silence where empires shift.
Then he spoke.
“Years ago, before Monroe Industries became what it is, I was at war—shareholders, regulators, the press. I fell in love with someone I couldn’t protect. Your mother. When things got dangerous, I made a decision.”
He paused. No guilt. Just facts.
“I gave you a new name. Buried every trace of our connection. You were raised outside of my world—for your safety.”
I swallowed. “So I became a ghost while you kept your hands clean.”
“You were alive,” he said, like that was the same thing.
I met his gaze. “You abandoned us.”
“I secured you.”
I let out a short laugh. “And now you want me back?”
“No,” he said. “Now I need you back.”
He stepped closer, hands folded behind his back.
“The company is bleeding. The board is aligning with rivals. My name won’t be enough in six months. Maybe not even next quarter. They want something new. A future. A bloodline.”
I let it settle. All of it.
“You want me to play heir.”
He shook his head. “I’m not asking you to play anything. I’m offering you power. Real power. The kind that changes a room the moment you walk in.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just let the weight of his words settle into my spine.
Heir. Face. Bloodline.
Fine.
“But if I do this,” I said slowly, “I’m not doing it to be your puppet.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Go on.”
“I won’t just inherit your company. I’ll rebuild it. I’ll fire anyone who ever whispered about me behind closed doors. I’ll hire the people you ignored. I’ll wear heels into rooms you never thought I’d walk into. And when they ask where I came from?”
I smiled. Cold. Controlled.
“I’ll say I was discarded. And then I made myself a weapon.”
I do hate him for what he did. For what he didn’t do. But a father like Fernand Monroe?
I can use him. Let him make up for the years he wasn’t there.
Fernand studied me for a moment, then nodded once.
“You’re my daughter, alright.”
