Dean was utterly depleted—tired, overwhelmed, and fundamentally devastated. His days were an endless, suffocating cycle spent chained to his desk, desperately trying to prevent his father's empire from crumbling to dust. The office was his cage, filled with the harsh ring of never-ending calls as he pleaded with clients not to pull out of contracts. He scrambled, digging for every last cent to cover warranties, buried under mountainous paperwork by the end of each soul-crushing day.
He should have been at that dinner, confidently expecting to win Celine back. Instead, he was here, fighting for the very financial stature he had once so carelessly proclaimed to champion.
All his regrets, every arrogant choice, and every foolish mistake were now converging, haunting him and inflicting a slow, agonizing pain. It was a terrifying realization that he was losing everything dear to him, including his father's decades-long legacy. He kept tearing at himself with the same damning questions:
"Why did I let myself get blinded by my own ego and entitlement?"
"Why did I not listen to my heart when it screamed not to let her go?"
"Why was I so prideful that I betrayed my own father's values?!"
A stubborn flicker of hope remained. He still clung to the belief that he could turn the financial ruin around, and even if he lost everything, Celine would still take him back. She was the one who had truly loved and treasured him. He desperately convinced himself that as long as he had her, everything would eventually be alright. He promised himself that this time, he would cherish her, treating her with the devotion she deserved.His only companion in this bleak office was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. He drowned himself in the whiskey, hoping to dull the sharp edges of his ill-fated situation.
A sharp rap on the door broke the heavy silence. It was Matt, his executive assistant, looking strained.
"Sir, our legal department needs to speak with you immediately," Matt advised, his voice devoid of warmth. "Please, tidy up and put yourself together."
"Why me?! Can't you handle them instead of always sending them to me?!" Dean protested, the alcohol making him belligerent.
"Sir, believe me, I would love to do it for you, but this situation is beyond me," Matt replied coolly. "It seems this is urgent and requires your complete and undivided attention."
Defeated, Dean submitted, insisting the legal team enter. What he learned next didn't just worry him — it destroyed his world entirely.
The lawyers, their faces grim, explained the unthinkable: the contract signed with Moran Conglomerate and Denise's Lennox Corp was an elaborate fraud and a sham. Dean Carter was not a shrewd businessman; he was the victim of a calculated scam. All the documents he had signed were meticulously forged, save for the specific paperwork that authorized the funneling and transferring of vast sums of company money out of the firm and into a series of made-up accounts.
"But… how about the titles for the lots and lands they showed us?!" Dean cried out, his voice hoarse with disbelief.
"Sir, those were all fake," one of the lead lawyers explained patiently.
"They merely pretended they owned those properties, sold them to you using legitimate-looking paperwork, but they never actually possessed the real titles.
"Another lawyer added a chilling detail: "You should have allowed us to check all the documents first before you signed over the company's finances. We have already reported the situation to the authorities and were able to put a stop to further transfers for now, but the damage... it has already been done."
The color drained from Dean's face, leaving him a ghastly white. Learning the full, devastating consequences of his impulsive actions felt like a death blow.
Denise had completely fooled him, using him merely as a cash cow. The shame was a crushing weight; he had allowed his pride and desire to lead him to this complete ruin.
Matt and the legal team quietly left him to his own, spiraling demise.
How could he face his father? His mother? How could he even face the Rosenfields now?
How could he expect to win Celine back when he had nothing left to offer her but a life of abject misery?
Dean was truly lost, and for the first time in his pampered life, he broke down, collapsing into raw, desperate sobs.
Feeling utterly hollowed out, Dean needed to escape the suffocating walls of the office. He fled and drove aimlessly until he found himself at a familiar bar, one he frequented with his old friends. He stumbled in and settled at a dark corner of the counter. As he signaled the bartender, he was recognized by a cheerful, familiar face: Toby, who was hanging out with some co-workers.
"Dean!" Toby approached him with a warm smile.
Dean nodded, forcing a strained smile to hide the devastation churning beneath his skin."What's up, man! We totally missed you guys at Celine and Nathan's dinner party," Toby said genuinely.
The moment he heard Nathan's name, a vicious stab of irritation shot through Dean. That dinner, that house, that life—it all should have been his. Nathan had simply and conveniently taken his place. Dean forced a casual tone.
"Yeah, I know, it sucks. I had to miss it because of pressing business stuff. I mean, I don't think there was really anything meaningful about it anyway, right?"
"Well, true. But you wouldn't have lasted if you were there anyway," Toby joked lightly.
The seemingly innocent remark struck a raw nerve.
"What do you mean?" Dean challenged, his voice dangerously low.
Toby, assuming Dean was okay with the topic since he was engaged to Denise, simply recounted the evening. He talked about how delicious the meal Celine had made, how incredibly sweet and openly affectionate Celine and Nathan were—so much so that it was almost embarrassing—and how it seemed Celine had finally, truly moved on.
"It seems like it's for the best, right?" Toby finished, genuinely believing both Dean and Celine had found happiness and settled down.
Dean, meanwhile, was fuming, boiling with jealousy and blinding anger. His jaw tightened so hard it ached, and he squeezed his hand into a fist so tight that the blood drained from his knuckles. He desperately, fiercely wanted to rip Nathan out of their lives. He hadn't been listening to Toby's cheerful chatter until the man made an oddly specific remark.
"Wait, rewind a bit… what did you just say?!"
Dean snapped, pulling Toby back to attention."I said it's funny how fate works, man. I mean, imagine: Nathan was here for a scheduled meeting with HUB when he met Celine, and you guys had just broken up," Toby clarified, taking a long sip of his beer. "Well, at least according to what Sadie mentioned."
Dean's mind seized on the words: HUB, Nathan, Meeting, Broke up. He suddenly found his smoking gun—the perfect angle to eliminate Nathan and reclaim Celine. He immediately and violently jumped to a catastrophic conclusion: Nathan had somehow found out about the break-up, deliberately taken advantage of Celine's vulnerability, and was using her as a pawn to secure the massive HUB contract.
The truth, that Celine herself was the mastermind who'd ensured Nathan got the deal, was an irony Dean's pride would never allow him to fathom.
A cunning, ugly smile spread across his face. He clapped Toby hard on the shoulder and told him, "You just saved me, man." Dean then walked out of the bar, leaving Toby bewildered.
Dean felt a dark, triumphant surge, as if he had just won the lottery. He would reclaim what was rightfully his—Celine—and possibly even reach a shrewd agreement with Nathan. He convinced himself he could keep the HUB contract in exchange for leaving Celine. Dean believed that whatever the outcome, he would win.