All Chapters of No Way to Win Me Back: Chapter 361 - Chapter 370

595 Chapters

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-One

Vanessa’s POVI stomped down the carpeted hallway of Crown Luxe’s executive floor so hard my heels clicked like they were firing bullets.The assistants scattered before me, not because they feared me, but because they knew better than to get in my way when I was like this.And right now, I was furious. So furious I could feel my pulse in my teeth.Beaumont International.Rosemary Atelier.A signed collaboration.A gala. A capsule line. International press. Exclusivity.I had read the announcement twice, three times, my eyes drying out, my throat tightening with something hot and bitter and ugly.It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t have been possible. Celeste Sinclair, with her “classic elegance” and her “emotional storytelling craftsmanship,” beating Crown Luxe to a deal with one of the most influential luxury conglomerates in Europe?No.No, it was unacceptable. It was infuriating. It was-It was a slap in my face.By the time I reached Maximilian’s office, I didn’t bother knocking. I p

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Two

Vanessa’s POVWhen I got home that evening, the city lights were dripping gold against the glass walls, like the world was trying to soothe me.It didn’t work. Nothing could cut through the irritation buzzing beneath my skin, not even the scent of my own expensive candles filling the living room.I kicked off my heels and loosened my hair, pacing across the marble floor.Everything today had gone wrong, Maximilian’s meek excuses, Celeste’s nauseating victory, the irritating helplessness that clung to me like static.If I didn’t do something soon, the power I’d spent years consolidating would start to slip through my fingers.But there were other levers to pull. Other pawns on the board.And one of them had been texting me all day.Damien.The once-mighty CEO now clinging desperately to relevance, to the illusion of power.The man who used to swagger through ballrooms now walked like he was carrying invisible chains.He wanted to “rise again.” He wanted “respect back.” He wanted his mot

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Three

Celeste’s POVI was reviewing the Beaumont projections when my phone vibrated on the desk with an unknown number, local, the school’s area code.My stomach tightened. Calls from school were never good.“Hello?”“Ms. Sinclair? This is Sarah Malik, the primary coordinator. We need you to come in, there’s been… an incident involving Molly.”I was already standing. “Is she hurt?”“No. She’s safe. But we do need you here.”Safe, but not okay. I grabbed my coat and headed straight for the elevator.The entire drive, my mind kept circling. Molly rarely got into trouble. She was soft-spoken, gentle, almost painfully mature. If something happened… it wasn’t instigated by her.When I reached the school, I saw Damien’s car already parked haphazardly in the visitor’s slot, crooked as always. Great. So Bonnie was involved.Inside the hallway, Damien was pacing, arms crossed, irritation radiating off him in those quick, shallow breaths. He barely acknowledged me.“Finally,” he muttered. “They said w

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Four

Damien’s POVI was still seething by the time I carried Bonnie through the front door. She wouldn’t look at me, just kept wiping her nose on her sleeve, hiccupping from how hard she’d cried on the drive home.For once, I didn’t soften. I didn’t pat her head. I didn’t tell her it was okay.Because it wasn’t.She’d humiliated me. She’d humiliated herself. And worse, she’d humiliated Celeste. And Molly.I set her down on the living room rug, keeping my voice flat. “Sit.”She did, shoulders shaking. Her backpack slipped off her tiny shoulder and thudded to the ground.I didn’t pick it up for her.“You think you can talk to people like that?” I said, pacing in front of her. “Call someone a street kid? You think you can bully someone who’s never done anything to you?”Bonnie’s lip trembled. “She—she made Nora sit with her—”“Stop.” I pointed at her. “Don’t lie to me. I heard everything. Ms. Sarah told me. And Celeste told me. And Nora and Tilly told me. You’re being cruel. And I didn’t raise

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Five

Celeste’s POVBy the time we got home, Molly was still quiet.Too quiet.She held my hand the whole way into the apartment, fingers small and cold, and didn’t let go until she saw Ryan in the living room.He stood the second we walked in, eyes searching her face first, then mine.“She okay?” he asked, voice gentle in that way he reserved only for her.I nodded, but it wasn’t entirely true. “Rough day.”He crouched so he was eye-level with her.“Hey, sunshine,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Want a hug?”She didn’t say anything. She just stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, like a child clinging to the one stable pillar left in a collapsing house.Ryan held her, slow and steady, one hand on her back, small circles mapping reassurance into her spine.I watched them, something warm and painful swelling in my chest. She trusted him. Completely. Maybe more than she trusted anyone else in the world.When she finally pulled away, he didn’t push for

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Six

Ryan’s POVMr. Davis never asked to meet me outside the building. But today, he did.I spotted him immediately, standing near the café across from Crown Luxe, shoulders tight, eyes flicking toward the revolving doors every few seconds, like he expected Maximilian to storm out and catch him committing treason.I crossed the street and approached him, and the relief on his face was almost comical.“Mr. Edwards,” he said, voice low. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t want to risk speaking in the office.”“Given my father’s fondness for surveillance,” I muttered, “wise choice.”His mouth twitched. “Yes, well… that’s exactly why I need to tell you this in person.”I folded my arms. “Go on.”He looked around once more, then leaned closer. “Damien Kent met with Maribel D’Argent last week.”That made me straighten, the irritation in my chest sharpening into alertness.Maribel D’Argent wasn’t just a client. She was the client. One of the most sought-after young heiresses in European luxury. Her je

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Seven

Celeste’s POVI should have expected it, honestly.Nothing with Ryan and me was ever going to be smooth lines and quiet agreements.We weren’t built that way. We loved too fiercely, worried too deeply, cared too much to ever be passive about the things that mattered.But still, our first fight came from something so small that I almost laughed when I realized what was happening.It started with the Beaumont contract.I’d already signed the primary draft, pending final review before countersigning. The ink was still fresh. My adrenaline was still humming.Rosemary Atelier was finally, finally stepping into the international sphere, and for once the world wasn’t looking for a way to knock me down.Ryan sat across from me at the long table in my office, flipping through the contract.His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, the ones he only wore when he was focused so tightly the rest of the world blurred out. I loved those glasses. I loved the way he looked in them: sharp, pre

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Eight

Damien’s POVI should’ve known Vanessa would hand me the client from hell.Maribel D’Argent. Heiress to the D’Argent Conglomerate. A woman who once fired an event planner because the floral arrangements were a shade too cheerful.A woman who sued a hotel because the marble floors “echoed wrong.” A woman whose nut allergy was so severe that even the idea of a pistachio in a two-kilometre radius could apparently kill her.Perfect. Exactly the kind of client I needed tonight, when I was already one disaster away from losing the last threads of my reputation.I stood in the middle of my dining room, staring at the glossy expanse of the twelve-seater table. Everything gleamed. Everything smelled like lemon disinfectant.Everything had been scrubbed and polished and re-polished until my reflection stared back at me from surfaces that had no business being reflective.But still, it wasn’t enough. Not for Maribel.“Again,” I muttered to the staff. “Check every utensil again.”My chef, third hi

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Nine

Bonnie’s POVI wasn’t supposed to be part of this dinner. I knew that. Vanessa said it was for adults.She wore her black dress and her “I’m important” face, and Daddy was bustling around like the world depended on him, which, tonight, I thought, it really did.There was a lady coming, Maribel D’Argent, who looked like she could crush you with one look.Everyone was whispering, checking plates, scrubbing forks, making a hundred things perfect. Even I could see it.I sat in the corner on one of those giant chairs that felt like a throne, feet dangling.I had my little snack with me: a small bag of crushed cookies and, best part, nuts. Nobody was supposed to eat my snack. But I was bored, and bored meant thinking.And thinking meant scheming. I watched Daddy run around, stress painting lines across his face.He didn’t even notice me, which was perfect. That’s exactly how I liked it. Invisible but watching. Always watching.The lady arrived, the one with the long gloves and the fancy star

Chapter Three Hundred and Seventy

Vanessa’s POVI watched from the doorway, arms crossed, as chaos unraveled in the dining room.Damien was red-faced, yelling, flailing around like a man who’d lost all control.The paramedics were finally leaving with that ridiculous, shrieking heiress, and the staff looked like they wanted to disappear entirely. It was… delicious.And then, the smallest detail caught my eye.The way Bonnie had lingered near the pastry tray, tiny fingers barely visible, doing… something.I narrowed my eyes, piecing it together, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across my face.Of course. The nuts.The little snack Bonnie had clutched in her hands like a secret treasure.That had been the weapon. That child, my little apprentice, had executed it perfectly.Damien, completely oblivious, was pacing now, muttering about how everything was ruined, how the client would never trust him again.He had no idea how perfectly orchestrated the night had been.He wouldn’t know, and neither would anyone else. He’d t

...

35 36 37 38 39

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP