Five Years Up I Reveal I'm The Richest He Kneels And Begs novel Chapter 86

Chapter 22: Constellation’s Kiss

The Lume Ateliers Design Week cocktail hour hummed with energy. Nova was discussing fabric sourcing with Gucci’s creative director when Scarlett tapped her shoulder. “Someone you should

meet.‘

She turned. A man stood beneath a crystal chandelier in deep navy Tom Ford. Light carved his sharp jawline; behind gold–rimmed glasses, warm eyes held an intelligent spark.

“This is my brother, Lorenzo Gabriel Rossi,” Scarlett announced with a wink. “Freshly repatriated from Veridian. Specializes in international women’s rights litigation.”

“An honor, Ms. Sterling.” Lorenzo extended his hand. His palm was warm, dry. “I studied your ‘Phoenix‘ collection. The fractured–reborn patterns…” His gaze deepened. “Profound.”

Nova stilled.

Most praised her ethereal ‘Stardust‘ line. Few understood ‘Phoenix‘–its hidden narrative of marriage’s destruction and rebirth.

“You analyze design symbolism, Mr. Rossi?”

“I only bask in beautiful things.” He offered his card. As she accepted it, his thumb grazed the faint scar on her inner wrist–a relic from the Blackthorn family’s discipline whip.

Nova instinctively pulled back.

His voice softened, “The scar’s flow… it mirrors the kintsugi technique in your work.”

The gala’s noise faded.

Three years. People had either pitied or probed the scar. He saw it as art.

Three months later, Nova stood before press cameras at the Song Foundation launch. Lorenzo, as legal counsel, stood protectively beside her. When a reporter snarled a barbed question—

“Ms. Sterling,” the reporter thrust a microphone forward, “is your foundation just revenge against your ex–husband?” Cameras zoomed in as he pressed, “And did you orchestrate Blackthorn Group’s collapse?”

“Charity Law Article 17,” his voice was calm steel, “mandates rigorous state oversight for foundations.” He fixed the reporter with a cool stare. “Are you implying judicial corruption?”

The man withered into silence.

Afterward, Nova found a steaming cup of honeyed grapefruit tea in the greenroom. A note lay

beneath:

[You were brilliant. Ignore the noise. I’m here.

–

LJ

She cradled the cup, remembering her assistant’s remark–Mr. Rossi canceled a high–stakes

arbitration to attend.

Steam spiraled from her teacup as she finally studied him–the man whose gentle eyes held a quiet affirmation whenever he looked at her.

Late autumn. Nova worked alone in her studio when the lights abruptly cut out.

“Easy.“His voice cut through the darkness.Lorenzo’s phone bloomed with pale light, washing Nova’s face in a lunar glow.

The sudden glow revealed him standing nearby, concern etching his features.

“Why are you here?”

“Scarlett mentioned your late nights.” He lifted a thermal container. “My housekeeper’s remedy. Gentle on your stomach.”

Nova’s throat tightened.

How many nights had she waited with similar warmth… for a ghost?

“Lorenzo.” His name felt deliberate on her tongue. “Why… all this?”

In the darkness, his hand lifted–then paused, restrained.

“Because you’re worthy,” he said simply. “No deeper calculus required.”

Simultaneously, in a sanatorium:

Zane Blackthorn–deported, diagnosed with acute delusional disorder–clutched a financial magazine. On the cover: Nova and Lorenzo, standing shoulder–to–shoulder at a charity gala.

His knuckles cracked under the strain.

A corner headline seared his vision:

[Casa Rossi Heir & Stardust Founder- Romance Blossoms?]

He scrambled for a phone, madly dialing a long–blocked number. A nurse pried it from his grip. “Medication time, Mr. Blackthorn.”

Outside, autumn leaves blazed like dying embers.For a heartbeat, he remembered–another lifetime ago, a girl waiting in the falling light, hoping he’d turn around.

Now the constellations still burned fierce above, but their light no longer touched his night.