Monaco — Hotel de Lune, Rooftop Bar
The Hotel de Lune rooftop glimmered like a jewel perched on the edge of the sea. Gold-dusted lanterns cast soft light on manicured hedges. Live jazz hummed low, too classy to interrupt, too emotional to ignore.
Selene Kai walked in like a secret no one could afford to forget.
Every head turned.
Her black silk dress clung like scandal. Her diamond earrings caught the moonlight. Her spine was straight, proud, imperial.
But it was her eyes — sharp, crystalline, freezing — that held the room hostage.
Camille rose from her seat in the far corner, her sapphire maternity gown fitted like royalty. She pressed a manicured hand to her stomach.
"Selene," she greeted, voice like velvet dipped in venom.
"Camille." Selene stopped two feet away, the air between them brittle. "Summoning a queen to your court. Brave."
Camille arched an elegant brow. "I thought you'd prefer to face things directly."
"I don't face threats," Selene replied smoothly. "I dismantle them."
A waiter brought champagne. Neither touched theirs.
Camille's lips curled. "Still so dramatic. Julian used to say—"
"Don't quote Julian to me," Selene snapped, tone steel.
There was a beat of silence. Then Camille exhaled. "Fine. Let's skip the foreplay."
Selene nodded, lips pursed. "Is it his?"
Camille's hands curled around the table's edge. "Would it matter?"
Selene's eyes flared. "Don't insult me."
"Yes," Camille said softly. "It's Julian's."
💼 New York — CraneCorp Headquarters
Julian Crane stood by the floor-length windows in his penthouse office. He wasn't looking at the skyline. He was watching the video feed.
Selene and Camille. Monaco. On screen.
Marcus leaned on the table beside him. "They're like two chess queens trying to play without kings."
Julian didn't answer.
"She asked you if it's yours," Marcus said. "You gonna tell her the truth?"
Julian ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know the truth."
"You're a CEO. You don't get to not know."
Julian turned, eyes dark. "It was once. After Selene pushed me away. Camille was there. It was... complicated."
"It always is," Marcus muttered.
Julian's voice cracked slightly. "If it's mine…"
Marcus crossed his arms. "You still love Selene."
Julian nodded slowly.
"Then fix it," Marcus said. "Or she'll burn the world — and Camille — to the ground."
🎭 Monaco — Camille's Penthouse
Camille paced the length of her penthouse suite, heels clacking over marble. Vincent leaned against the bar, watching her.
"He still hasn't called," she muttered.
Vincent shrugged. "He's not stupid."
"He's loyal," she snapped.
"No," Vincent corrected. "He's torn."
Camille sat, her movements slow. Her hand drifted to her belly. "I never meant for this to happen."
"Liar."
Camille didn't argue.
"You wanted a foothold," Vincent said. "You just didn't expect it to grow teeth."
She looked up at him, eyes weary. "Do you think I'm evil?"
"No," Vincent replied. "I think you're desperate. And Selene doesn't leave room for desperate women."
💬 Geneva — Helix Tower
Selene's private office overlooked the Geneva skyline. She stared at the reflection in the glass — a queen, tired but unbroken.
Evelyn knocked once, entering without waiting.
"She's holding a press conference. Eight a.m. Monaco time."
Selene closed her eyes. "Let her talk."
Evelyn frowned. "That's not like you."
"I want the world to see it," Selene said coldly. "The pretty lie. Before I drag it through the dirt."
Evelyn hesitated. "And Julian?"
"He made his bed. I just haven't decided how to bury him in it."
📺 Next Morning — Monaco Press Conference
Flashbulbs. Paparazzi. Fashion journalists. Investors. A sea of eyes.
Camille stood in a floor-length white gown that hinted maternity without apology. Her makeup was soft, maternal. Strategic.
"I know many of you have questions," she began, voice trembling. "I didn't want to do this. But sometimes... truth matters more than privacy."
The crowd hushed.
"I'm pregnant," Camille continued. "With Julian Crane's child."
Gasps. Camera clicks. Frenzy.
She teared up on cue. "I don't want anything. Just space. Dignity."
A few reporters cried. Others nodded.
She turned and walked off stage, Vincent behind her.
But backstage, her hand was shaking.
Vincent caught her elbow. "You okay?"
Camille swallowed. "I think I just declared war."
🕶️ New York — Private Lounge, CraneCorp
Julian watched the press conference on mute.
Selene entered without knocking.
"I should fire you," she said.
Julian stood slowly. "Do it."
They stared at each other.
"You lied to me," Selene whispered.
"I didn't know," Julian said. "She said she was on the pill. It was one night. I—"
Selene held up a hand. "Stop."
He stepped closer. "Selene…"
"Don't," she warned. "Not unless you mean it."
He swallowed. "I do. I never stopped."
She looked away. "Then why didn't you choose me when it mattered?"
He had no answer.
"Tell me," Selene said, voice breaking. "Tell me it's not yours."
Julian looked her in the eyes.
"I can't."
⏳ Flashback — Two Years Ago
Selene and Julian sat in his penthouse, the fireplace crackling.
"I don't believe in love," she had said.
Julian reached for her hand. "That's okay. I'll believe enough for both of us."
She looked at him — young, bold, stupid with hope.
He kissed her knuckles.
She didn't say "I love you" back.
Not then.
Maybe that was the mistake.
🕊️ Geneva — Midnight
Selene sat on the floor of her bedroom, champagne in one hand, tears she refused to acknowledge on her cheeks.
Evelyn entered quietly. "Want company?"
"No."
Evelyn sat anyway.
Selene leaned her head on her friend's shoulder. "I hate this."
Evelyn smiled sadly. "You love him."
"I wish I didn't."
Evelyn nodded. "He's your weakness."
"No," Selene said softly. "He's my ruin."
💣 Later That Week — Paris Gala
Selene appeared in a crimson gown that whispered danger and kissed revenge.
Julian arrived with Marcus. Alone.
Camille was conspicuously absent.
Reporters circled, desperate for a statement.
Selene turned to Julian. "Dance with me."
He offered his hand. "Always."
They moved like gravity itself bent for them.
"I'm not done," Selene whispered against his jaw.
"Neither am I," Julian replied.
But in the corner, Camille watched.
Uninvited. Unannounced.
And quietly unhinged.