The Villains Must Win-Chapter 66: Alexander Vale 16

Another time, Celeste was leaning over Alexander’s desk to show him something on his laptop, and before she could react, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her right onto his lap.

She yelped, eyes wide. "Alexander!"

He barely looked up from the screen. "Hmm?"

"We are at work," she hissed, face burning.

His fingers drummed lazily against her thigh. "And?"

Celeste opened her mouth to argue but then saw the way his lips twitched—he was enjoying this.

The man who used to bark orders like a ruthless king was now a smug, insufferable boyfriend in his own office.

And God help them all, because Alexander Vale had zero shame about it.

The moment it was official?

The day Alexander literally refused to let Celeste sit anywhere except beside him at lunch.

All the executives were seated, poised with their forks and knives, when Alexander walked in. Instead of taking his usual seat at the head of the table, he grabbed Celeste’s wrist, pulled her out of the chair she had just settled into, and placed her in the seat beside him.

Celeste rolled her eyes, but she was laughing as she let him do it.

The office?

Yeah, they knew now.

Alexander Vale was completely, irrevocably whipped for Celeste Hart, and the woman enjoyed the attention.

=== 🖤 ===

The grand auction was one of the most prestigious events in high society—where wealth, influence, and social connections were flaunted like priceless artifacts. Business moguls, aristocrats, and old-money elites gathered in glittering ensembles, their every move calculated to impress.

Celeste arrived early.

Alexander had been held up by business dealings—the kind that operated in the shadows, away from prying eyes. Illegal dealings. Dangerous dealings. The ones he didn’t want her to know about.

She knew anyway.

And, of course, in a place like this—where networking was the key to expanding empires—Ethan and Riley were present.

The moment they stepped into the ballroom, all eyes turned to them.

Ethan looked effortlessly regal in his custom-tailored suit, exuding confidence and wealth. At his side, Riley was a vision in an elegant blue evening gown that shimmered under the chandeliers, the color perfectly complementing her striking sapphire eyes and golden locks.

She looked like something straight out of a fairy tale—the quintessential princess, radiant and refined. Beside her, Ethan played the role of the dashing prince, completing the picture of the perfect couple.

They were really the male and female lead. They were the center of attention, their aura captivating the entire room.

Until she arrived.

The second Celeste Hart stepped through the grand entrance, the attention that had been fixated on Ethan and Riley vanished.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Gasps, murmurs, and wide-eyed stares followed her as she strode forward, the very air around her shifting. She was draped in a gown that demanded worship—a breathtaking, body-hugging red dress that shimmered like molten lava under the crystal lights. The fabric sculpted every curve, highlighting the sensuality of her frame while maintaining an air of effortless elegance.

Her long, red hair cascaded down in soft waves, framing a face that was nothing short of hypnotic. Her sharp, ash-gray eyes gleamed like polished steel, holding an unshaken confidence that sent a shiver through the room.

She wasn’t just beautiful.

She was lethal.

Ethan forgot to breathe.

Was this . . . the same Celeste he had known?

The Celeste from before would never have worn something so elegant, so powerful. Her old fashion choices had been a chaotic mess of designer labels thrown together in an attempt to fit in. Her posture had always been slightly uncertain, her presence overshadowed by those around her.

She was supposed to be loud, vulgar, a woman who threw herself shamelessly at men, desperate to prove she belonged.

But now . . .

Now, she moved like a goddess descending from a higher realm—untouchable, mesmerizing, utterly captivating.

Her every step was slow, her gaze firm, her lips curved in a knowing smirk as she absorbed the stunned expressions around her.

And in that moment, Ethan realized something chilling.

Celeste Hart was no longer trying to fit into this world.

She had become someone the world needed to fit around.

If not for Riley’s soft elbow nudging him, Ethan might never have snapped out of his trance. It felt like waking from a dream—one where time had momentarily stood still, and all he could see was her.

Celeste.

"What are you staring at her for?" Riley’s voice came sharp and laced with something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to jealousy.

She pouted, crossing her arms as she followed his gaze toward the woman who had just turned the entire ballroom upside down.

Riley had always been confident, always secure in her position as the center of attention. She had never once worried about another woman stealing the limelight. Why would she? Ethan had always looked at her. Alexander had always chased her. Their eyes had belonged to her and only her.

But then Celeste arrived.

And suddenly, everything was different.

For the first time, Riley felt threatened.

Ethan’s eyes had been glued to Celeste the moment she stepped into the room, his breath hitching at the sight of her presence. Even Alexander—her Alexander, the man who had always chased after her had gone silent. Not even a call or message from him threatening her to get back at him like he always did in the past.

She clenched her fists.

It didn’t make sense. She had always assumed Alexander would eventually come back to her, just like he had in college. That no matter how much time passed, he would always want her.

But lately, there had been nothing.

No attempts to reach out. No calls. No messages. No mails or threats to attempt to get her back.

Just . . . silence.

And silence, she realized with a sinking feeling, was far more terrifying than anger. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"Do you want to get back at her?"

The words tumbled out of Riley’s mouth before she could stop them. Even she was surprised by the sharpness in her tone, the unspoken desperation beneath it.