he next day, the board meeting was already in motion when Celeste walked in. Vivian had sat at the head of the table, composed as ever, with her glasses on. Celeste took her usual seat to Vivian’s right, with her tablet in hand, her eyes keep reaching to her phone every seconds. The meeting was to start in the next two minutes and Damon still hadn’t shown up. She’d called him before dawn, twice and no answer. The last time she heard from him was during the midnight meeting. Did he fall asleep? Was he ignoring her? “Let’s proceed,” Vivian said with her smooth voice ,“Updates on Haverson?” There was a shuffle of papers. Mr. Latham, one of the older board members, cleared his throat. “Before that, we should address the restructuring figures. The quarter-end projections show a shortfall in division C.” Vivian nodded once. “Celeste?” Celeste straightened, tone crisp. “The numbers from division C were delayed due to procurement irregularities. We’ve flagged the discrepancies and expec

They barely stepped past the glass doors when Celeste’s hand caught Damon’s sleeve and stopped him. The hallway outside the boardroom was still buzzing with executives laughing about hiking boots and lake-view villas, but instantly, Celeste dragged Him in the narrow corner behind the frosted wall, the air felt different. Quieter. Focused. Damon turned slightly. “You planning to drag me into another midnight meeting?” Celeste didn’t bother with his sarcasm this time. Her eyes narrowed curiosity. “How did you do it, Damon?" Damon didn’t respond, he just looked at her like she should already know. Celeste stepped closer, with an unreadable expression “Don’t play coy. You got Martin Haverson to drop a twenty percent price hike and cleared a blocked retreat fund in one night. Whitmore’s financial division has been strangled by that freeze for a year. Compliance hasn’t approved a recreational expenditure since the audit. Yet you...” her voice lowered, “...you got them to sign off in

Damon’s grin widened and unfazed by her tone. “You really don’t have much faith in me, do you?” Vivian didn’t bother replying. She turned away, tightening the strap of her pack as if the simple motion could end the conversation. “Faith is earned, not given. And you’re late to that party.” Before Damon could respond, the coordinator’s whistle cut sharply through the air. “Teams A and B, you’re up front! Let’s move!” The crowd shifted as groups began filing toward the dirt path leading into the dense hillside forest. The air buzzed with chatter, the sound of crunching gravel, and the metallic click of hiking poles. Celeste flashed Vivian a grin as she and Adrian took their position. “Try not to kill him before the first checkpoint!” she called over her shoulder. Vivian gave a mock salute. “No promises!” Soon, the Hiking started, everyone with their teams began to leave. The trail went up through the forest, full of tall green trees and the smell of wet leaves. The ground wa

“Step away from them now” The voice sounded as it echoed out loud. Everyone turned go look and standing there was Fragile Celeste with an headlight looking all confused and innocent. Vivan opened her mouth in shock seeing the sight of there friend. She screamed out loud in fear, “Celeste, get way from here now! Please, don't come near, Run as far as you can can” she screamed in horror. Celeste took a step closer to them bravely, “Get away from the friends now!” She echoed. The men looked at each other then boost out laughing. “So you guys know each other?” The boss asked as he pointed at Viva and Damon.. Celeste’s hands trembled as she brought out a small knife she always have in her as a means of protection. “I said get away from my friends” she repeated as she pointed the Knife at them. The Boss seeing her fear and hesitant smiled, as he stepped closer, “Oh! Sweetheart, I don't think you know how to use that, do you?” He said sarcastically. Celeste’s heart pounded so

The men all looked at each other in shock, someone dared to attack a Whitmore? they were all dead!! The guards’ expressions hardened instantly. Without waiting for another word, two of them charged toward the fallen thugs, grabbing the nearest ones by their collars and yanking them up roughly. “You sick bastards,” one of the guards growled, slamming a man against a tree. “You have no idea who you just messed with!” Another kicked Marcus—the boss—square in the chest, making him grunt in pain. “You thought you could kidnap anyone you wanted? You picked the wrong people today!” The air was filled again with shouts and groans as the guards began to beat the men mercilessly. Punches landed, boots struck ribs, and the attackers cried out helplessly. “Please! Stop—please!” one of the thugs begged, holding his hands up. “We didn’t know! We didn’t know who they were!” One of the guards grabbed him by the collar and hissed, “Didn’t know? You tried to hurt Miss Vivan Whitmore!” The