Chapter 14

I pushed him away, and this time, I didn’t stop. I walked into the trees, disappearing into the dense forest, leaving Atlas behind. But after a long silence, his voice—hoarse and quiet—drifted through the air. “I understand now, Celeste.”

One Month Later

The salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I sat by the window of a small seaside café, fingers curled around my warm cup, watching the waves crash against the shore. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the easy conversations of tourists blending into the background—until one sentence cut through the noise.

“Did you hear? The CEO of Whitmore Enterprises turned himself in!”

A woman gasped. “What? Atlas Whitmore? Why?”

“He confessed to everything,” someone else whispered. “Destroyed his father-in-law’s company with underhanded tactics, manipulated his wife, caused her father’s death, and—God, the worst part is—he was the reason she lost her baby.”

“Jesus,” someone muttered. “The woman he loved… she suffered so much because of him.”

I stilled. My grip on the cup tightened slightly before I relaxed. Lowering my gaze, I unlocked my phone. The news was already there. The top story—the first image—showed Atlas being escorted into custody, his expression unreadable.

I skimmed the article, my eyes catching a particular quote: “If it weren’t for Ivy, I never would have taken the blame for all these years. I never liked her, but I could never bring myself to do something that would destroy someone’s life.” Nathaniel’s voice.

I exhaled slowly, setting my phone aside just as a waiter approached. “Miss Laurent, your package.” I blinked, taking the envelope with mild curiosity. Sliding my fingers under the seal, I unfolded the contents. Two documents. The first: a divorce agreement. At the bottom, in bold, precise strokes, was Atlas’s signature. The second: a transfer of assets. Everything he owned—his properties, his shares, his wealth—had been signed over to me.

Every last piece of his empire, handed to me without hesitation. At the bottom of the envelope was a small folded note. I knew the handwriting before I even opened it. Atlas’s.

“Celeste, don’t refuse it.” “I promised you—I will never appear in your life again.” “May you be as free as the wind, happy and safe.”

I stared at the note for a long time. Then, slowly, I smiled. For the first time, he understood me. I tore the letter into pieces, letting the shreds fall onto the table like remnants of a past I no longer carried. Lifting my cup, I took a slow sip. The coffee was rich, with a subtle bitterness that lingered—not overwhelming, but inviting me to savor it.

Reaching for my camera, I turned toward the horizon, capturing the endless expanse of the ocean, the seagulls circling above, the small, stubborn flowers growing between the cracks of the rocks. With a quiet sense of finality, I posted this on my Instagram: A new beginning.