Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

Chapter 4

I barely touched my breakfast, and now my stomach churned violently on the way to the shoot.

By the time we arrived, nausea clawed at my throat. I stumbled out of the car, leaning against it, gulping in fresh air in an attempt to settle the sickness.

Meanwhile, Atlas was carefully lifting the hem of Ivy’s gown, his head slightly bowed as he guided her into the

studio with the utmost care.

I watched in silence.

The man who once promised to cherish me–who used to hold my hand so protectively–was now treating another woman as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, swallowing back the bitter taste in my mouth.

“Celeste,” Atlas called out to me, his voice laced with frustration. “The shoot is about to start. Be nice–just do your job. This is important for both Ivy and Whitmore Industries.”

Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. I stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

Pain flared up my arm, but Atlas had already turned away, his attention elsewhere, as if I were nothing more than a reluctant participant in his carefully orchestrated world.

It had been five years since I last held a camera. Now, as I raised it, my hands trembled.

Fear gripped me, a cold and suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. But I forced myself to push through it.

Click

With each shutter press, I fought against the flood of emotions threatening to drown me.

Grief.

Rage.

Betrayal.

snap of the camera a desperate attempt

the room emptied, leaving only Ivy and me. She scrolled through the shots, a slow smirk curling on

to me, her

like your father, Celeste,” she said, her words laced with venom. “Pathetic. A failure. No matter

06:50

Love, Seven

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Chapter 4

try, you’ll never be good

nails dug into my palms.

lungs grew heavy, my body trembling as white

And then-

*Slap.*

exploded across my cheek, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

shaking off the impact, before looking down at

with Atlas after you were discarded by your

her voice dropping to a whisper.

something clear,” she said, her breath warm against my ear. “Atlas belongs to

stood frozen, my cheek throbbing, my ears ringing with her

my wrist–and

her own face.

tore from her lips as she staggered backward, letting herself crumple onto the floor

her eyes as she cradled her cheek, looking up at me

voice shaking with false innocence. “I just wanted to ask if you could try a different angle for me. If you don’t

slipped from Atlas’s fingers, shattering against the

darkening into fury. In two long strides,

he knelt beside