The morning sun filtered softly through gauzy curtains, casting a pale golden sheen across the ceiling. Serena blinked against the light, momentarily disoriented. The familiar ceiling came into focus, and with a frown, she realized—this was the Manhattan Villa.The echoes of her name—"Serena... Serena..."—still rang faintly in her ears, remnants of a dream, perhaps, or something far too real.With a groan, she pushed the covers aside and sat up. Her clothes had already been laid neatly on the foot of the bed, folded with mechanical precision. Of course, Alexander would orchestrate even the smallest things.She dressed quickly, her movements sharp and restless, then made her way downstairs.In the living room, Alexander sat sprawled on the plush couch, a document open in his hands. Sunlight fell across his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw as he pretended to read.Serena didn’t give him a second glance. Her steps were swift, her expression set. She moved straight towa
Alexander remained composed, casually brushing a hand across his cheek as if the entire situation were nothing more than a passing inconvenience. “If Marken knew I skipped out for someone I liked,” he said coolly, “he’d probably be proud.”Diana stood frozen, caught off guard by the blunt honesty. She parted her lips to speak, but no words came out. The Vanderbilt family wasn’t known for displays of tender emotion. Loyalty, power, legacy—yes. But love? Not so much. Justin and Charlie had made a sport out of extramarital affairs. No one expected Alexander, of all people, to make sacrifices in the name of affection.Especially not for Serena.Alexander gave the tense group of onlookers a curt glance. “I’ll have Jonathan handle the share transfer documents. Contact me once she’s out.”Without waiting for a reply, he pivoted and walked away, his strides steady and unapologetic.“Alexander,” Diana called after him, the words escaping her before she could think them through, “that’s your mo
"Serena, I heard you went to check the surveillance footage," Rita's voice crackled through the phone, casual yet tinged with something deeper.Serena said nothing.Rita continued without pause, "Alexander had it wiped a long time ago. You're not going to find anything. I'm at Vanderbilt Manor right now—want to come over and talk?""Talk about what?" Serena snapped, her voice laced with quiet fury. "With everything going on between us, Rita, there's nothing left to talk about.""Suit yourself," Rita said airily, but her next words landed like a blow. "I just remembered hearing the kidnappers saying something… about your mother. Thought you'd want to know."It was bait—and Serena knew it. But it was bait she couldn’t ignore.She had only just learned from Jared that there was a faint chance Elena—her mother—might still be alive. That one sliver of hope had been haunting her thoughts, and Rita’s calculated mention of it struck home.So Serena went.*Outside the police station, word spr
When Serena stepped into Jared’s hospital room for the second time, she nearly collided with a group of sharply dressed men gathered around the bed, one of whom held a check. At the front of the group stood a familiar figure—Alexander Vanderbilt’s lawyer. She remembered him well; he was the one who had coldly handed her the divorce papers, crisp and unsigned, like a formal end to a chapter she hadn’t yet closed.Her gaze sharpened. Why would Alexander’s people be in Jared’s room?The lawyer stepped forward, his tone polite but practiced. “Mr. Garcia, we’ve come to offer compensation. Here is a check for $300,000. We sincerely hope you’ll refrain from pressing charges or involving law enforcement further.”Jared, lying weakly against the hospital pillows, flinched at the sight of the unfamiliar men. His face was pale, eyes wary. As if on instinct, he yanked the blanket higher over himself, shrinking into the mattress like prey before a predator. The money meant nothing to him. He didn’
Serena was on her way to the office when her car slowed near a gas station. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a hunched figure crawling across the pavement—filthy, ragged, dragging one mangled leg behind him. The sight made her instinctively tap the brakes.Even from inside her car, she could almost smell the pungent odor of sweat, dirt, and decay that clung to him like a second skin. His clothes were tattered and soaked in grime. The leg he dragged behind him was grotesquely swollen, and the foot—what was left of it—looked like it had been crudely severed. Infection had set in, oozing through the open wound.Serena reached for her wallet, flipping through it quickly. She had just two hundred dollars in cash. Not much, but better than nothing. She gestured to the gas station attendant to fill up her tank, then stepped out of the car and walked toward the man.She crouched and placed the folded bills on the ground near him.But just as she began to stand, she heard a raspy whis
Marilyn lounged on the couch, legs crossed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Her eyes were calm, almost too calm, like a storm gathering in silence. “Vincent,” she began coolly, “you’ve always had more book smarts than me. I used to think I wasn’t good enough for you. But now? I think you’re not good enough for me. So I’m calling off the engagement.”The words hit Vincent like a punch to the gut.He’d always been proud of his degree from NYU, often tossing it into conversations like a trophy. Meanwhile, Marilyn had graduated from a less prestigious college—nothing flashy, just solid. In his mind, that had always put him a step above her. And yet here she was, dismissing him like he wasn’t even worth the conversation.He didn’t take a moment to reflect on his own cheating. Instead, his lips twisted into a sneer. “So that’s it? Found someone better already, Marilyn? Never figured you for that kind of woman.”Classic deflection—when guilty, accuse the other party first.But Marilyn fel