Chapter 4
Celeste’s POV
The next morning, I dressed and waited in the living room for Kieran.
Footsteps on the stairs. I looked up to see him guiding Juniper carefully down, step by step.
My heart sank.
"Celeste, Juniper mentioned she's never worn a wedding dress." Kieran's eyes held a hint of apology. "She just wants to see the shop. Don't worry—she won't get in the way."
I nodded without a word.
At the boutique, he instructed the staff to bring out gowns for me to choose from. But his attention remained fixed on Juniper, hovering at her side.
"There are dresses everywhere—be careful. Don't wander off."
"Kieran, I'll probably never have the chance to wear a wedding gown. Could I at least try one on?" She pointed to the dress I'd just selected, her voice honey-sweet. "That one Celeste is holding is so beautiful. May I?"
Kieran turned to me with that helpless expression. "Celeste, could you let her try it? Just this once. Please. Let her go first."
I handed the dress to Juniper without protest, without reaction.
Kieran, I wanted this day to be ours. A final moment together, showing you the dress I chose. And now you've taken even this from me. Since you don't know how to cherish what we have—when I'm gone, I hope you remember the choice you made today.
He even sent me into the fitting room with her. "Juniper's pregnant—it's hard for her to manage alone. Help her with the dress... make sure she doesn't trip..."
I listened in silence, swallowing the bitterness.
It took considerable effort to get her into the gown. Juniper lifted the train and positioned herself before a floor-length mirror. "Celeste, come help me with the hem."
I knelt to adjust the trailing fabric.
"You know, you really shouldn't feel too bad." Her voice drifted down, light as air, meant only for my ears. "This dress really is stunning. Such a shame—"
She paused.
"—you'll never get to wear it."
The next second—
Gunfire exploded from downstairs, so loud the building shook. Screams. Shattering glass. More shots, one after another.
The fitting room door burst open. Kieran rushed in, two bodyguards at his back.
"Someone's here." His voice was low and deadly, his eyes sharp. "We need to move."
He grabbed Juniper's wrist, barely sparing me a glance.
"The cars are in back. Get her out. Take the service stairs."
He swept Juniper into his arms and ran.
The guards flanked them, guns drawn. Not one of them looked back at me.
Engine noise rumbled from below—tires screeching, growing distant, swallowed by gunfire.
Men in black flooded the room, weapons raised. I stumbled backward into a rack of white gowns. A shop assistant tried to run; two steps later, she crumpled at my feet. Her blood spread outward, soaking the hem of the dress beside me.
I once thought I'd walk down the aisle toward him in something like this.
A gunman approached, barrel leveled at my forehead. His finger moved to the trigger.
Then darkness.
Two hours later, Kieran stood in the doorway of a hospital room, watching Juniper sleep.
The doctor said she was fine. The baby was fine. Just shock—she needed rest.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. Then something occurred to him.
"Where's Celeste?" He frowned, turning to the guard beside him. "Our people got Celeste out, didn't they?"
The man wouldn't meet his eyes.
"What is it?" Silence. "Answer me!" Kieran's voice rose sharply. "Where is Celeste?"
The guard's response was barely audible. "Boss... the boutique was ransacked. They set fire to it before they left..."
Kieran's blood turned to ice. "Where is Celeste?"
"By the time our team arrived, the building was already burning..." The guard still wouldn't look up. "We didn't find Miss Celeste inside..."
