[You can’t judge someone just by what they show on the outside. Tonight, masks will fall, one by one.]As the main course was served, the room filled with chatter. But each word carried a subtle sting.“I heard you started a new company with your dad, Celeste?” Uncle Theo asked casually.Celeste smiled politely. “Yes, Damien and I are working on it with my father.”“Impressive. Damien seems pretty influential now, huh? Funny, last time we had dinner...”“Just a poor, useless son-in-law. Remember his parting words that night? So ridiculous!” one of Celeste’s aunts chimed in. “He said he’d stand by Celeste no matter what. Wow... guess what? He actually did, in less than a year!”Damien cut in smoothly, “I’ll take that as a compliment. I just support whatever Celeste decides. She’s the one in charge.”The room stiffened. Jealous looks were thrown their way. Then one of Celeste’s cousins muttered, “Still can’t even stand on his own though. What’s all that money for? No one knows where it

Damien pulled the crumpled paper from the car window and tossed it in the trash like it was something filthy. The rushed, slanted handwriting was nothing new. More threats. Accusations. Provocative nonsense trying to rile him up.This time, he just ignored it.“Child’s play,” he muttered, starting the car and driving off calmly.To Damien, only cowards hid behind anonymous letters. If someone had a problem with him, they should come straight to his face, look him in the eyes, and say it out loud. Not this crap.Celeste didn’t say a word the entire ride back from the Stratton villa. Her hands clutched her little purse tightly in her lap. She stared blankly out the window, never once looking at Damien, who drove in complete silence.Of course, she was still in shock.Damien—her husband—who had been in a wheelchair for nearly four years, now stood tall. Strong. Solid. Like a soldier back from battle. No… stronger, more alive. Celeste felt like she was sitting next to a stranger wearing h