After the retreat, Dean threw himself into work with a ferocity no one had seen from him in years. Contracts, emails, client calls — he tried to drown the chaos in his head with paperwork, but nothing soothed the storm.
The car ride home with Denise had already drained him. She nagged him nonstop about how he acted at the camp, about Celine, about how he made her look. Dean didn't want to hear any of it. Every word she said reminded him of the same thing — Celine and Nathan's closeness, their easy affection, the way Celine leaned into Nathan as if she belonged there.
He couldn't unsee it.
It burned.
When they arrived home, Denise slammed the door in his face and stormed off. Dinah, who had been sitting in the living room, heard the commotion.
"What happened?" she asked sharply.
"None of your concern, Mom," Dean snapped, trying to walk past her — but halfway across the hall, he froze.
He turned, something breaking inside him.
"You know what? No. This is your concern." His voice cracked. "I shouldn't have listened to you. All your snide remarks, all your comments about Celine not being enough—"
Dinah stiffened.
"I should've kept her. There's no one like her. And now I have to watch her with someone else… and it's—" His breath hitched. "It's killing me."
He didn't wait for her response. He stormed into the study, slammed the door behind him, and poured himself a drink — then another. He slumped onto the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"How did I let this happen?" he muttered.
He replayed every memory of Celine — her soft smiles, her patience, her hugs, the way she'd waited for him even when he didn't deserve it. And now? She looked freer. Happier. Brighter.
All without him.
And Denise…
He scoffed. Denise was nothing like Celine. Not nurturing. Not patient. Not kind. She was rude, entitled, loud, and lately downright embarrassing. She didn't support him. Never encouraged him. Never cared when he needed comfort. He realized he didn't even know why he agreed to the engagement in the first place.
Celine was everything he lost — and now, everything he wanted back.
If he had to break things off with Denise? He would.
If he had to undo mistakes? He would.
If he had to get rid of Nathan?
He clenched his jaw.
Then he would.
Dean called Matt immediately.
"Hire a private investigator. I want everything on Nathan Park. I want to know who he is, where he came from, what he wants."
Matt agreed — then hesitated.
"Sir… one more thing. Denise has maxed out your card. Actually… all of them. And the amounts are… considerable."
Dean's face fell. "How much?"
The number nearly sent him into another spiral.
Hours later, it was almost midnight when Denise returned home, dragging shopping bags behind her. The maids struggled to carry everything.
Dean was waiting for her — arms folded, face cold.
"Where have you been?"
"Shopping," Denise said, rolling her eyes. "Not like you care."
"Well, babe, the feeling's mutual." Dean stood. "Stop."
He grabbed her wrist before she escaped toward the stairs. His eyes were dark, angry.
"You maxed out all my cards," he said. "Why? After everything? Why now?"
"You told me you'd take care of me," she shot back. "Or did you forget?"
Dean exhaled sharply. He saw it clearly now — the ugliness of it all. The transactional nature. The emptiness.
This wasn't a relationship.
It was a contract.
And he was done paying for it.
"Let's end this," he said coldly. "There's no point pretending anymore. I don't love you."
Denise went still.
Then slapped him across the face.
She ripped off the engagement ring and threw it at his chest.
"I hope you regret this," she hissed, before storming out with her bags.
Dean didn't regret it.
He felt relieved.
Freed.
A step closer to a mission he should've never abandoned.
Now he needed to get rid of Nathan.
And win Celine back.
⸻
The next morning Dean woke up refreshed — energized, even. He dressed sharply, humming to himself as if nothing had happened. His mind was already plotting how to "fix things" with Celine.
Dinah, sitting at the dining table with her tea, blinked when she saw his cheerful expression.
"Dean. What happened with Denise?"
"Good morning, Mom!" he said brightly. "Oh, Denise and I? Over. Didn't work out."
Dinah shot up from her seat.
"WHAT? Dean, you can't just— We have a reputation to protect! People will talk! The Morans will talk! Are you trying to ruin us?"
"I don't care what people think anymore." Dean straightened his cuffs. "Caring too much already cost me the only person who ever truly loved me."
"And the engagement contract?"
"That's solid. They can't back out. We'll be fine." He smirked. "Besides, we have bigger problems — if you paid attention."
Then he left the house without looking back.
Dinah collapsed into her chair, terrified.
Roy was still in a coma.
Lennox was struggling.
Dean was unstable.
And the Rosenfields? Already slipping away.
She needed a way back into their good graces.
She needed Celine.
And she knew exactly who could push Celine toward Dean again.