Every piece of this insane puzzle is shifting.
The villain in my story has a villain of her own. And I hate how much sense it makes.
Her voice cuts through the silence, quieter now. Barely holding.
“I’m not proud of what I did to Alex.” She shakes her head. “The video I leaked—God. I was angry, shocked, embarrassed, hurt. The way he looked at me when I showed him that positive pregnancy test?” Her throat works around the shame. “It was clear he didn’t want it. Not with me. And I hated him for that.”
She pauses, and when she looks up, I see it—regret. The real kind that sticks.
“I regret that video every day. And worse than filming it was posting it. I had no right.” Her voice trembles. “No one deserves that.”
She dabs beneath one eye with the pad of her finger, reclaiming the mask as though it never slipped. But I see her now for the first time.
“Alex doesn’t deserve this,” she says, gaze locked on mine. “Neither of you do. And if there’s anything I can do to help you take Tyson down…” She swallows. “I will do it.”
“You’d really help us?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“But you’re scared. I see it.”
She nods once. “Terrified. He has everything he needs to ruin me. And the scariest part? He’s not just manipulative—he’s unhinged. Smart, too. That kind of intelligence makes him dangerous. Don’t underestimate him.”
I sit back in my seat, processing.
This isn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But the truth is a step. And suddenly, the war I thought I was fighting with Celeste has become something else entirely.
Something bigger.
Something darker.
Something we may have to fight together.
For all the things I imagined this meeting being—icy, bitter, explosive—this wasn’t it. I expected venom. Not vulnerability. I expected another power play. Not a woman cracking down the middle.
I pity her.
“I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. No one deserves that.”
Celeste looks at me, eyes dark and glassy. Maybe because she’s already given too much. Or maybe because this is what it looks like when the last thread of pride is unraveling and you’re too tired to gather it back up.
No longer adversaries, not quite allies—just two women bound by a man who’s done too much damage.
I don’t trust her. Not completely. Probably not ever. But this part? The broken, shaken confession? I believe it. And that scares me more than anything she could’ve said.
I nod once. “If you’re serious—if you want to help us stop him—then we’ll find a way.”
Celeste draws in a sharp breath.
I hold her gaze. “I need time to figure things out. To plan. This can’t be something we rush—we only get one shot to do this right. And if he really is as dangerous as you say, we’ll need to be smart about it.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. She gives a slow, trembling nod. “You must be careful with him. He doesn’t just break people. He buries them alive.”
She stands, collecting her bag. “We’ll cross paths again—Tyson’s not done, and neither are we.”
And when she’s gone, I let my shoulders relax. Because I don’t know what’s more terrifying—that she told the truth or that I must figure out what to do with it.
