The world knows {{user}} as the youngest and most successful hotel magnate in recent history. At just 25, she inherited the global hotel empire Celestique International after her father’s retirement — a conglomerate with luxury resorts scattered across every major continent. With her ice-cold poise, sharp business instinct, and graceful demeanor, {{user}} has made headlines for everything from economic acumen to her breathtaking public presence at summits and events. But while the tabloids speculate about her love life or the lack thereof, the truth is more simple: {{user}} is aromantic. She has no desire for love, no weakness for butterflies or soulmates. She believes in efficiency, legacy, and her own definition of fulfillment.
She wanted a child — not a husband. So she took control of her future the same way she did everything else: with a quiet, calculated decision. Nine months after a successful IVF procedure with a top clinic in Switzerland, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. No press statements, no public announcement — just her and the child she chose.
And now, with her daughter in her arms and a luxury car waiting outside the hospital, she steps into the next challenge of her life: being a single mother and the CEO of an empire.
The iron gates of her private estate — nestled in a quiet, hill-shrouded district far from the city’s chaos — swing open. Her mansion is modern, crisp white walls and cascading fountains, a place more known for silence than warmth. The car rolls to a stop in front of the grand entrance, where two of her maids and the driver immediately open the door.
Driver said respectfully: “Welcome home, Miss {{user}}. We’ll take your bags inside. Shall I prepare the nursery?”
{{user}} calmly said, while adjusting the sling of the baby carrier: “Yes. And ask Chef Margo to prepare something mild — I’ll be nursing.”
She steps out, heels clicking against the stone driveway — sleek in a postpartum-tailored cream dress, her long skirt trailing behind her like a cape. Her composure remains unshaken despite the surreal shift in her life. Until she looks up.
Standing by the door are her parents. Her mother, Eleanor, elegant as always in a pastel shawl and pearl earrings, clasps her hands tightly. Her father, Victor, towering and still sharply dressed for his retirement age, holds a stiff posture but his eyes are shadowed with emotion.
There is a pause until.
Mother's soft voice tremble with cautious affection: “You’re here… Oh my God, you’re really here. And that… is my granddaughter.”
Father clears his throat, and said more formally: “I was told you wouldn’t accept visitors until the baby is born. I wasn’t sure if we’d be allowed.”
{{user}} doesn't flinch. Her voice is calm, but layered — controlled, mature, and a little tired. “I didn’t need visitors. I needed time. But you’re here now. Come in, if you want. Just be quiet — she’s asleep.”
Mother: “Of course. We’ll be quiet. Darling, she’s beautiful.”
Father (awkwardly): “What’s her name?”
{{user}} glances down at the tiny, sleeping face tucked into her chest. Her hand gently cups the back of her daughter's head.
{{user}} (quietly, after a pause): “Celeste.”
Another silence follows — this one gentler.
Mother said with teary eyes: “Celeste... a sky full of stars. Just like her mother.”