The office lights hummed overhead as Selene sat behind her desk in silence. It was after midnight. Everyone had gone home—except Evelyn, whose heels clicked softly across the marble as she brought in a silver tray.
"Chamomile," Evelyn said. "I figured the Ice Queen might appreciate something warm for once."
Selene didn't smile. But she did take the tea.
Her hands were trembling. Just slightly.
She hated that Evelyn noticed.
"She's bleeding sympathy," Evelyn said, sitting across from her. "Social media is painting Camille as a betrayed, brave mother. Hashtag '#StandingStrong.' Someone at her PR firm's very good."
Selene stirred her tea. "Sympathy is fragile. It only takes one fracture to destroy it."
"She's using her pain."
"So am I," Selene whispered.
Evelyn stilled. "You mean the foundation launch next week?"
"I mean everything. The past, the lies. My survival." She looked up, eyes steeled. "That's what no one understands. They think my coldness is a mask. It's not. It's a choice. And I chose it the day I lost everything."
A pause.
Evelyn's voice was quiet. "Julian doesn't look like a man who's chosen anything lately. He looks like a man who's drowning."
Selene closed her eyes. "Then let him sink."
🧠 FLASHBACK — Five Years Ago
Selene sat in a hospital corridor, blood drying on her shirt. Her fiancé at the time—Andrew—had just left her, upon hearing she wouldn't recover from the miscarriage emotionally. Or maybe, ever.
The doctor had said: You need time.
But Selene had only taken one week off work.
She had returned with steel in her spine.
And no one had ever mentioned the baby again.
🕵️ Julian's Investigation
Julian was done waiting.
He met his private investigator, Mason, in a dimly lit lounge across from his penthouse.
"You were right," Mason said. "Camille was in Paris during the timeframe she claimed… but she also made a detour to Prague."
Julian frowned. "Who lives in Prague?"
"Try: Vincent Marceau. Her family's financial fixer. Also the man whose name appears on two of her OB-GYN records as 'emergency contact.'"
Julian felt his chest tighten.
"I want a paternity test," he said quietly. "And I want it done discreetly."
🕯️ Camille's Campaign
Camille sat before the cameras, pale and fragile. Her voice cracked just right. Her hands rested over her belly as she whispered:
"I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted the truth."
The headlines came in waves:
"Camille Duval: Betrayed but Brave"
"Selene Arden's Empire Built on Ice?"
"The Mother Who Dared"
Vincent watched from the wings, arms crossed.
"You're playing it well," he muttered.
Camille didn't look at him. "It's not playing. It's surviving."
But even she didn't quite believe herself.
⚖️ Twist — Marcus Betrays
In the dark of his office, Marcus slid a flash drive across a glass table.
Opposite him sat Camille.
"This is everything. Emails, texts, timestamps. It shows Selene was planning to force you out of the board months ago—before the scandal broke."
Camille smiled like a cat shown cream.
"And why, dear Marcus, are you giving this to me?"
"Because I want her to burn. And you're the perfect spark."
📩 Julian's Text to Selene
JULIAN: I know about Prague. I know about Vincent.We need to talk. Before this goes too far.Please, Selene.
💔 Final Scene — Selene's Breakdown
That night, Selene locked the penthouse door behind her and sank to the floor, her back to the wall. She didn't cry—not fully. But her breath came in uneven gasps, and her eyes burned with everything she had never said.
Evelyn found her there an hour later.
"You can't keep holding everything in," Evelyn whispered, kneeling beside her.
"I have to," Selene croaked. "If I let go... I won't come back."
Evelyn held her.
And Selene, for once, didn't pull away.
Julian sat in his car for twenty minutes after leaving Mason, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened. The city lights blurred through the windshield, but he didn't see them.
He saw her.
Selene in the garden, years ago, holding a champagne glass and laughing, wind teasing her hair. Before the coldness. Before they both let go.
He had thought she was stronger without him.
He was wrong.
His thumb hovered over her contact again.
JULIAN: I don't care about the headlines. I care about you.We were real once. Let's talk—please.
He deleted the message.
Then typed again.
JULIAN: I still remember the night in Prague.
Send.
He closed his eyes and whispered to himself:"Don't shut me out again, Selene. Not this time."
📍 Camille and the Mirror
In the privacy of her hotel suite, Camille peeled off her press-ready makeup and stared into the mirror.
The scar above her eyebrow—a gift from falling off a horse at thirteen—seemed to glow under the soft lights.
She touched it absentmindedly.
"You're still her," she whispered to herself. "You're still that girl who fought her way to the top."
But her reflection didn't agree.
Behind her, Vincent leaned against the doorway. "Don't get soft on me now. You're too close."
"I'm not soft," she said. "I'm tired."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You're playing with fire. Selene won't hesitate to strike back. And Julian isn't as blind as you think."
Camille turned, fierce again. "Then let them come. Let them both come. I'll show them what losing really feels like."
📍 Final Emotional Flashback — Selene's Father
Late that night, Selene sat alone on the rooftop of her building, knees pulled to her chest. She had a blanket over her shoulders and a bottle of untouched wine beside her.
She hadn't sat here since the night of her father's funeral.
His voice still echoed in her mind: Don't ever let them see you cry, Selene. Power is colder than love—but it lasts longer.
She had believed him. Still did.
But tonight… she wondered what it might have felt like to be warm.
Just once.