Everything around Celine was chaos.
Voices clashed with the clicking of cameras, guests murmured in confusion, and her mother's frantic shouts blended into the hum of panic. Sadie and Letty were shouting orders at the security team to escort the press out while waiters scrambled to clear broken glasses from the floor.
And in the middle of it all—Celine sat motionless, knees folded beneath her, the hem of her golden-yellow dress pooled around her like spilled sunlight.
Dean had the nerve to extend a hand to her.
For a long moment, she just stared at it—at the hand that once held hers, the hand that had promised forever. Then, slowly, she took it.
And in the next second—
Smack!
The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek echoed through the courtyard like thunder.
The room fell silent. Even the cameras froze.
Dean's head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening. Before he could react, Celine began hitting him again—fists, palms, anything she could manage—pounding his chest and arms through tears and screams.
"You have the nerve to do this here? In my home?!" she cried, voice breaking. "How fucking dare you! Do you have any decency left?!"
Dean tried to block her strikes, half-shielding his mother and Denise behind him. His expression twisted—not anger, not regret, just a grim sort of resignation.
Celine's sobs shook her entire body. "I loved you all my life, Dean! I stood by you, defended you, gave you everything—even when there was nothing left for me to give! How could you do this to me?!"
She collapsed to her knees again, trembling, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "What did I do to deserve this humiliation? I loved you. That's all I ever did."
Sadie rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her. "Celine, stop, please…"
Dean stood a few feet away, eyes lowered. For a moment, he looked conflicted—almost pained—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"It had to be done," he said flatly. "Our families shouldn't have anything to do with each other anymore."
Celine froze, her tear-filled eyes lifting to him.
Dean continued, cold and deliberate. "And what made you think you're the one I wanted to marry? That old promise? That wasn't ours, Celine. That was theirs."
She stared at him, stunned, her breath uneven.
"I'm tired of pretending," he said, voice growing sharper. "I hate everything about what you've become—so submissive, so obedient, so… boring. I want someone who knows what she wants. Someone who challenges me, not worships me. Someone like Denise."
"Aaaah!"
The scream ripped from Celine's throat before she could stop it—a raw, guttural sound that silenced the last murmurs of the crowd. Her chest heaved, and for a second, her mind went blank.
Then she laughed—hollow, trembling, unhinged. "That's funny," she said bitterly, tears glistening on her face. "Because that was me, Dean. That was the real me—until I changed everything to become the girl you said you wanted."
She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "You could've said it. You could've told me you didn't want this. You could've had anything you wanted—hell, you could've had better. But you chose to humiliate me instead."
Celine reached for a glass of champagne from the nearest table, downed it in one go, and hurled it at the floor. The glass shattered like her composure.
"You'll regret this," she hissed, voice trembling but fierce. "You'll beg for me."
Then, before anyone could stop her, she turned and ran.
Dean watched her go, his expression blank. "No," he muttered under his breath. "I think you're the one who'll regret it."
He turned to Denise and his mother, motioned for them to leave, and walked out—leaving behind the wreckage he created.
⸻
The courtyard was in ruins. Flowers trampled, teacups shattered, guests whispering as they hurried out. Lauren Rosenfield stood frozen, face pale and eyes glassy with disbelief.
Sadie rushed to her, steadying her by the arm. "Mrs. Rosenfield, please sit down. I'll go after her. Letty—follow Celine now!"
Letty nodded and ran for the valet.
Reporters outside were already snapping photos, calling out questions. "Is it true she was dumped for another woman?"
"Was the engagement fake?"
"Delete those!" Sadie screamed, shielding Lauren as the security team pushed the press back.
The whispers would be headlines by morning:
The Elusive Rosenfields Exposed — Daughter Loses Composure in Public Meltdown.
⸻
Celine ran through the valet, barely breathing, her vision blurred by tears. The first car she saw—she didn't even know whose it was—she took the keys, jumped in, and drove.
The city blurred past her, lights and color smearing into streaks as she pressed harder on the gas. Her sobs came in waves—anger, heartbreak, humiliation—all blending into one unbearable ache.
She had no plan. No direction. Only the desperate need to escape.
And her heart led her to the one place she remembered from childhood—the one sanctuary her grandparents once promised her: "If you ever need to disappear, my darling, go there. No one will find you."
The Black Tie Society.
A private members' club hidden from the public eye, passed down quietly through family generations. When she was younger, her grandfather had given her a small silver key, engraved with her initials. "You're the only one this belongs to," he told her with a wink. Back then, she laughed—thinking she'd never use it.
Now, it was the only refuge she had left.
When she arrived, security recognized her instantly. No words were exchanged. They simply bowed slightly and opened the gate.
Inside, the world was quiet. Dim lights, velvet seats, the low hum of jazz in the background. It smelled faintly of whiskey and old books—like the remnants of another era.
Celine walked straight to the bar and sat down. Her trembling fingers reached for a glass. Then another. And another.
Cosmopolitans, martinis, whatever the bartender poured—she didn't care. She just needed the noise inside her head to stop.
As the alcohol warmed her veins, her heartbreak began to speak in whispers:
How did I become this?
How did I let him make me small?
She replayed every moment, every warning Sadie had ever given her.
She thought being patient was love.
She thought endurance was loyalty.
She thought obedience meant worth.
But what did it bring her?
Humiliation. Loneliness. Betrayal.
"They probably all think I deserved it," she muttered under her breath, staring into her drink. "Maybe they're right."
Her lips curved into a bitter smile, her voice trembling. "Good for him, then… for leaving someone like me."
And for the first time in her life—Celine Rosenfield felt completely, utterly alone.
⸻
Back at the Rosenfield estate, panic spread like wildfire.
Letty was on the phone with every hotel in the city. Lauren lay in bed, inconsolable, her cries muffled by tissues.
When Ben and Carl returned and heard what happened, the air in the mansion turned thick with fury.
"That bastard," Ben growled, slamming his fist on the table. "He's nothing like Roy. If I ever see him again—"
"Dad," Carl interrupted grimly, holding up his phone. "There's more. Lennox Construction just sent a notice to halt all joint projects with HUB. They're citing 'internal restructuring.' Looks like Dean's move wasn't just personal."
Ben's eyes widened. "That fool doesn't know what he's doing. If Roy doesn't get back soon, his son's going to burn everything they built!"
He rubbed his temples, pacing. "Have we found Celine yet?"
Carl shook his head, worry clouding his face. "Not yet. But I'll keep looking. I won't stop until we do."
And as the night deepened outside, the Rosenfields—once untouchable—realized their carefully built world was beginning to crumble.
While somewhere across town, in the dim glow of a quiet bar, their daughter sat drowning her heartbreak—
unaware that fate was about to send her colliding with a stranger who would change everything.