Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 8

[Philip had made me a bowl of medicinal soup himself. He'd spent ages searching for the right recipe—a gesture so touching it almost hurt.]

…

The last message was a photo.

Philip's boxers, tossed carelessly on the floor, tangled together with a wrinkled pair of pink women's underwear.

She hated pink. She'd never buy anything in that color.

Just last night, after coming home from the hospital, the two of them had ended up in bed again.

Some things, it seemed, were simply impossible to resist.

A sharp ache stabbed at her heart once more.

Fighting back a wave of nausea, she took a screenshot and saved it.

Her stomach felt hollow and sour, but the pain had faded to numbness.

When she climbed out of bed, her legs couldn't stop trembling.

She braced herself against the wall and made her way to the nurses' station, insisting on signing the discharge papers.

She didn't have the luxury of resting here.

No sooner had she settled into the back seat of a cab than Philip's name flashed on her phone screen.

"Come out from the hotel now. I'm sending Chase to pick you up."

The command in his voice was so matter-of-fact, as if no matter what happened, Celeste would always be waiting where he left her, ready to answer his summons.

Celeste slumped back against the seat, her face as pale as a ghost.

"I'm not at the hotel."

"You went out? Shopping again?" His tone turned slightly impatient. "Don't bother with that today. Go home. You know Viola better than anyone—take care of her for a day. I don't trust the housekeeper with her."

Celeste almost laughed out loud.

Moments ago, she'd actually thought Philip was calling to send Chase to take her for a checkup at the hospital.

She'd actually thought he was worried about her health.

When she didn't answer, Philip's tone softened.

"Celly, I know you're angry about how I acted last night, and about Viola moving in. I've explained it to you already. You two have always been close—don't let my mistakes ruin that. Use this chance to talk things through, okay?"

Celeste sank into the sofa across from him, her gaze icy and clear.

"Mr. Matthews, your ambition is none of my business. But I have one condition: you can't attend the shareholders' meeting next Monday. Wait one more week. If you agree, I'll sign right now."

Some bombs, she thought, were more fun if they exploded one after another—never all at once.

Steven drummed his fingers on the table.

"So, you and Philip—finished?"

In Silvercrest's business circles, everyone who'd ever dealt with Nova International knew that Celeste had loved Philip, loved him with everything she had.

Celeste slowly straightened, her eyes cold and fixed on the man in front of her.

"Mr. Matthews, the shares I'm selling are rightfully mine. I'm just taking back what belongs to me—nothing more, nothing less. But if you think you'll get any Nova International secrets out of me, think again. I'll walk away from this deal right now."

Owning original shares didn't mean she was gutting Nova International.

In the end, only the most capable would come out on top.

Steven didn't press further. He took out the contract, signed his name, and wired the money.

Once she confirmed the payment had cleared, Celeste rose and walked out.