LOGINAlexander gently stroked Serena’s back, his touch firm yet careful, as if afraid she might break apart beneath his fingers. She clung to him in silence, her breathing uneven, her face buried against his chest.When they finally returned to the Manhattan Villa, the city had grown quiet under a curtain of late-night drizzle. He drew her a warm bath, helping her undress and steadying her trembling hands. The faint scent of lavender soap filled the air, softening the tension that lingered between them.After she slipped into the bath, Alexander stepped out, closing the door behind him with quiet restraint. He descended to the first floor and stood near the open balcony doors, the cold November air brushing against his skin. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag, the ember glowing faintly against the dark.The phone in his pocket buzzed. It was Colton.“I’ve looked into Elliot and Quinn,” Colton began, his voice low and grave. “They might be working for someone, but their background in
Serena’s heart lurched in disbelief. Kissing me here? In front of everyone? Has he lost his mind?Her thoughts flared, but before she could push him away, Alexander broke the kiss. He didn’t let her go, though—his hand slipped to the small of her back, drawing her firmly into his chest as if to shield her from the stares around them. His scent—clean, faintly woodsy, familiar—wrapped around her in a confusing comfort.At that exact moment, Colton approached from behind, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. The chatter that had filled the room just moments ago had died out completely. Every pair of eyes was locked on them, mouths parted in stunned silence.“What’s going on?” Colton asked, his brows furrowing slightly at the frozen scene before him.Alexander’s voice was calm, even casual. “She’s late,” he said, his arm still around Serena. “Allow me to introduce her properly—Serena is my girlfriend.”The words dropped into the room like a thunderclap.For a moment, no o
Alexander stood silently in the doorway, his tall figure framed by the golden light spilling from the chandelier. His mere presence seemed to draw the air out of the room—sharp, heavy, commanding. He didn’t say a word, yet the tension shifted instantly.Across the room, Quinn froze. Her face drained of color before she quickly ducked behind Elliot, clutching the sleeve of his jacket like a terrified child.“Elliot… you talk to him,” she whispered, her voice trembling.But Elliot wasn’t much braver. The moment his gaze met Alexander’s cold, expressionless eyes, his knees nearly buckled. Everyone could feel it—the oppressive aura that came with Alexander Vanderbilt’s arrival. His silence spoke louder than anyone’s words.Elliot’s lips twitched before he finally stammered, “Serena, y-you’d better give us an explanation!”Serena stood across from them, her posture straight but her hands slightly trembling. Until Alexander walked in, she had felt cornered—trapped between humiliation and he
Quinn and Elliot had been waiting in the service corridor for nearly an hour, pacing back and forth like restless hens. But the moment Serena appeared at the entrance of the hall, Quinn lit up as if she'd spotted prey.“Serena!” she screeched, her voice slicing through the quiet elegance of the space—loud enough to bounce off every marble pillar.Quinn and Elliot never imagined they would step foot in a place like this. Dorian had told them—quite proudly—that every guest invited tonight had a net worth of at least two billion dollars. Quinn didn’t even know how many zeros were in a billion; she only knew it sounded like a number that could change her life.As they were escorted in earlier, the two of them gaped openly at the sprawling estate. The villa stood like a castle, with glittering glass windows towering over manicured lawns. A massive swimming pool shimmered under golden lights, and beyond it stretched an endless expanse of green.They didn’t know what a golf course was. To th
Serena pushed herself upright from the couch, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain as she pulled it back just enough to see outside.The street was still swarming.Hundreds of fans pressed against metal barricades, their signs flashing under the streetlamps. Phones glittered like a constellation of artificial stars, pointed toward Serena’s window as if waiting for her to appear. The noise—shouting, chanting, camera shutters, security radios crackling—merged into a suffocating wall of sound.At least the worst of the frenzy had died down; security had begun pushing the crowd back meter by meter. For the first time all afternoon, people inside the building could actually step outside safely.“Ms. Morales,” Marilyn called softly, her voice breaking the heavy moment, “it’s seven. We really do need to leave now.”Serena pressed her lips together, drawing in a slow breath before turning. Whitney was curled on the bed, still pale, still shaken.“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be b
The next morning, Serena woke to the soft pale light slipping through her curtains—and the cold, empty silence of her phone screen. No messages. No calls. No “good morning” from Alexander.She exhaled, expression unreadable, and pushed herself out of bed.At the office, she dove straight into work. The conference room lights glowed brightly overhead, and the long oval table was lined with executives sitting upright, notebooks open, eyes fixed on her. The moment she began speaking, the room quieted completely.Serena went through the agenda one point at a time, clear and precise. “Listen carefully—our promotional push this quarter cannot afford any slip-ups. The PR department needs to monitor every piece of online chatter. I have a feeling Ruiz Star Entertainment won’t sit on their hands—they might try stirring something up again.”The executives murmured in agreement.One of them raised a hand. “Ms. Morales, Whitney’s new drama aired this morning. The response is excellent. Her follow







