"Ma'am," the police officer said carefully, "are you certain about that?"
Celine hesitated, her jaw tightening.
"My penthouse was vandalized a month ago," she said. "Almost the exact same way. Furniture destroyed, glass everywhere."
The officer scribbled something quickly in his notebook.
"And you believe the same person is responsible?"
Celine nodded slowly.
"Yes."
" Nolan who?" The officer asked.
Celine turned toward him, her expression suddenly serious.
" Nolan Smith!!"
"My ex."
Beside Celine, August had gone very still.
His jaw tightened, and without realizing it, his arm around her waist pulled her slightly closer.
"He won't get away with this, officer," August said firmly.
The officer looked up at him. "We'll do everything we can, sir. Vandalism and property destruction are serious charges."
Celine could feel the tension in August's body beside her, the protective way his arm remained around her.
"This man," August continued, his voice calm but edged with steel, "has now attacked two properties connected to us. That's not random."
"No," the officer agreed. "It doesn't sound random."
He closed his notebook.
"We'll need you both to come to the station later to give full statements."
The officer nodded to his partner and stepped away, leaving August and Celine standing amid the wreckage. August exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as his eyes swept over the shattered tables and broken glass.
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
Mom.
A small sigh escaped him before he answered.
"Hi, Mom," he said, voice calm but tired.
"August! I just saw the news!" His mother's voice was sharp, full of worry. "Are you alright? They said your restaurant was attacked!"
"I'm fine," he reassured her steadily. "No one was hurt."
"Are you sure?" she pressed. "Your father is pacing the floor. Although, if you look at his face, you wouldn't know it. He's trying to act calm, but he's worried."
August let out a short laugh. "Mom, give Pops a breather. He doesn't need reporting right now."
There was a brief pause. His mother's tone softened, but still carried that firm, no-nonsense edge. "Alright, alright. I'll leave him alone… for now."
He glanced at Celine, still close beside him, hair a little messy from running, her face pale but fierce.
"And Celine… she's with you, right?" she asked.
"Yes," August replied softly. "She's here."
There was another pause on the line, and then his mother added
"Malcolm is on his way to pick up Liam. I thought it's best to have him stay at the family house while you two sort things out."
"Thanks, Mom," August said quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"You know where to reach me if anything changes," she added. "Take care of each other."
"We will," August promised.l
Through the drive, no one said a word. The city lights blurred past the car windows, reflecting in Celine's tired eyes. Even August didn't speak; the silence between them was heavy, almost comforting.
When they finally arrived, August opened the door and slipped off his jacket, hanging it neatly on the rack.
Celine slumped into the chair by the living room, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
August immediately moved closer, concern in his eyes. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"I… I'm fine," she muttered, though her shoulders sagged.
He knelt beside her, taking her foot gently in his hands. "Why do you wear this torture?" he asked, lifting her heel to inspect it.
Celine glanced down at the red marks left by her tight heels. "A woman has to look her best," she replied with a faint smile, though her voice was tired.
August's lips quirked upward. "You look incredible. But this…" He rubbed gently over the spots, kneading her sore muscles. "This is unnecessary."
She leaned back, letting him work. Her legs had carried her across the city at a run, and every muscle protested.
"You're too kind," she murmured, eyes softening as she watched him.
"Don't look at me like that," he teased lightly, continuing to massage her calves and feet. "These are sore from running, not from looking beautiful."
Celine let out a small laugh, her tension easing a little. "Thank you," she whispered.
Looking up at her, meeting his gaze. "What would you do about the restaurant?" She asked gently, his fingers still kneading her feet.
He tilted his head, thinking.
"Mom?" she suggested, unsure.
"No," August said firmly. "I have it under control. I'll manage. I've got savings."
"You'll fix it?" she asked, concern threading her voice.
"Yes," he said, his hands still working carefully over her cramped muscles. "Everything, the tables, the furniture… even the vintage wine. I'll make it right."
Celine smiled faintly, the tension easing further. "I know you will," she said softly, her appreciation clear in her eyes.
***
The sharp click of heels echoed down the hallway.
Marissa didn't knock.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, fury written all over her face, her posture stiff, controlled, but barely.
"What did you do?" she snapped. "Have you lost your mind?"
Nolan sat by the window, completely at ease.
A glass of wine rested in his hand, the deep red liquid catching the light as he swirled it lazily. The city stretched behind him, calm and untouched, unlike everything he had just destroyed.
He didn't look surprised to see her.
In fact… he smiled.
A slow, sick grin.
"Good evening to you too," he said smoothly, taking a sip.
Marissa let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, pacing toward him.
"Why the restaurant, Nolan?" she demanded. "Do you even realize what you've done?"
Her voice rose slightly, heels clicking harder against the floor. "That place—" she stopped herself, jaw tightening, "—that place means everything to him."
Nolan's eyes flicked up at that.
"I know," he said simply.
The words sent a chill through her.
Marissa stared at him, anger faltering for just a second. "You're insane," she muttered. "You think this helps you? You think Celine is going to run back to you after this?"
She stepped closer, hand lifting in frustration,
But before she could act, Nolan caught her wrist.
Hard.
Her breath hitched.
His grip tightened just enough to hurt, fingers digging into her skin, leaving a faint mark.
"Stop it," he said coldly. "Woman."
Marissa froze, shock flashing across her face.
Nolan stood slowly, still holding her wrist, pulling her slightly toward him.
"Whether you like it or not," he continued, voice low and dangerous, "you're already in this."
Her heart began to race.
"You gave me information," he said quietly. "You helped me get close."
Marissa shook her head, trying to pull back. "I didn't sign up for this—"
"You did," he cut in sharply.
For a moment, the room felt suffocating.
Then he released her abruptly, shoving her back just enough to create distance.
Marissa stumbled a step, catching herself, her wrist throbbing as she stared at him in disbelief.
Nolan turned away from her, completely unbothered, lifting his wine again.
"This is just the beginning," he said calmly.
Marissa's anger had shifted now, into something else.
Fear.
August loved that restaurant.
Almost as much as his son.
And Nolan had just proven he knew exactly where to hit.