Chapter 2 : I’ll have my chance sooner or later

When Serena Ava Morales and Alexander Piers Vanderbilt married, he hadn’t even bothered to appear at City Hall. The entire process was orchestrated under Cornelius Vanderbilt’s iron-fisted influence, enabling Serena to receive the marriage certificate alone, her groom’s signature nothing but a hollow formality.

Now, for the first time, she truly looked at the proof of that union. Perched at the edge of her bed, she opened the drawer and pulled out the certificate, running her fingers across the raised, official seal.

Alexander.

The name weighed on her chest, heavy enough to suffocate.

She barely spared a glance at the stiff photograph beside her own before tossing the document back into the drawer with a dull thud. No amount of staring could change the truth: their marriage was a transaction, soon to be dissolved.

Determined not to dwell on it, Serena shrugged into her coat and headed for the hospital to visit her younger sister, Valentina.

By the time she arrived, the sunlight was streaming through the hospital’s tall windows, pooling in warm golden puddles across the pale linoleum floors. The faint, crisp scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the sterile hush of the corridor. A nurse’s station stood empty, its staff likely on their lunch break, leaving Valentina alone in her hospital room.

When Serena entered, Valentina’s delicate, doll-like features broke into a bright grin.

“Serena!” she exclaimed, trying to sit up despite the tangled IV tubes. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Dad sent you—he’s paranoid again, isn’t he?” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I told him I’m fine! Ugh, I can’t believe he called you behind my back.”

Serena laughed, crossing to the bed and handing Valentina a bottle of cool water. “He’s worried, that’s all.”

Valentina had always been fragile, her health as delicate as spun glass. Every hospitalization seemed to send their father, Alfonso, into a panic, hovering like a hawk over prey.

Valentina sighed and fell back against her pillows. “I hate being stuck here,” she groaned. “Mom fusses over me nonstop, and the food? I’m surviving on milk and soggy vegetables. Serena, it’s humiliating.”

She tugged at Serena’s sleeve, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“The nurses keep talking about this new burger place nearby,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Can we sneak out and get one? Just one bite, I swear!”

Serena raised a skeptical eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Didn’t you just claim you were perfectly fine?”

Valentina grinned, unrepentant. “Fine enough for a burger.”

Despite herself, Serena gave in with a small sigh. She’d always been powerless against her sister’s pleading eyes.

Half an hour later, they returned to the quiet hospital room with a freshly wrapped burger. The smell of warm grilled beef and melted cheese filled the sterile space, a comforting, homey scent that clashed with the cold sterility of the ward. Serena carefully unwrapped it, holding it just within Valentina’s reach.

“Only a taste,” she warned, firm but fond. “No swallowing.”

Valentina leaned forward eagerly, her fingers trembling with excitement as they closed around the burger. But before she could even take a bite, a voice like a crack of thunder slammed through the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

The tension snapped, tight as a violin string.

Serena turned slowly, her spine stiffening, to see Araminta Morales standing framed in the doorway. Perfectly manicured nails dug into the soft leather of her designer handbag, her expression a storm cloud of rage and disbelief.

With swift, practiced fury, Araminta strode across the room and yanked the burger right out of Valentina’s hands, tossing it straight into the trash with a contemptuous flick.

Her voice was venom-laced, slicing the air between them.

“Are you trying to kill your sister?” she spat, her icy gaze locking onto Serena. “I always knew you had ill intentions.”

Serena barely flinched, though bitterness pooled like acid in her stomach. She was used to this: Araminta’s endless suspicion, the cutting accusations. Her eyes fell on the burger, crumpled in the bin, the wrapper smeared and worthless now. So much for one small rebellion.

“What else did you feed her?” Araminta barked, whirling on Valentina. “Are you feeling sick? I should call your father right now!”

“Mom, please!” Valentina pleaded, tugging at her sleeve with teary eyes. “It wasn’t Serena’s fault. I asked her to do it!”

Araminta hesitated only for a heartbeat, but her scorn returned as quick as a slap, turning back to Serena with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Valentina doesn’t understand how fragile she is—but you do. So why indulge her?”

Serena met her stare, calm and unbowed. “Because she’s not a child anymore,” she answered evenly.

Araminta’s lips curled in a sneer. If Serena hadn’t been tied to the powerful Vanderbilt name, Araminta would have cut her out of the family picture long ago. Serena was the living reminder of Alfonso’s first marriage, a thorn in her side.

“Alexander is back in New York,” Araminta said pointedly, voice dripping with disdain. “As his wife, you should focus on gaining the Vanderbilt family’s support for your father instead of playing around.”

Serena’s faint smile held, unshaken. “So this is about me not doing enough for Dad? Is that your complaint, or his?”

Araminta’s jaw clenched, color rising in her cheeks. Before she could spit another accusation, Valentina, panicking at the building tension, quickly interjected.

“Serena, could you go get my medicine from the pharmacy?” she asked, eyes pleading.

Serena nodded, seizing the chance to escape, and left the room in brisk, measured steps. Araminta’s shrill voice followed her down the hallway, every syllable dripping like acid.

“It’s been years! Alfonso doesn’t owe that woman anything! She worked herself to death—how is that my fault? I didn’t make her unlucky!”

Serena’s hand tightened around the folded prescription slip, her nails digging into the paper, but she didn’t look back.

Her body still ached with bruises from the previous night, though she wore her discomfort like invisible armor. The last thing she needed was to let Araminta’s twisted revision of the past pierce through.

She kept walking, refusing to give Araminta the satisfaction of seeing her break.

After waiting in a long, stale-smelling line at the pharmacy, Serena paused, clutching the paper bag of medication in her trembling hands. A wave of uncertainty washed over her. Something urged her to keep walking — to slip out the hospital doors and never look back. But the dull ache deep in her body reminded her of what had happened last night, pushing her onward toward the OB-GYN wing. Maybe she just needed to know, once and for all, whether there would be consequences from that night she could never take back.

The exam room was harshly lit, all stainless steel and scrubbed white tiles. Serena lay on the crinkling paper sheet of the examination table, staring at the pale ceiling with its buzzing fluorescent lights. The doctor, calm and professional, pressed gently along her abdomen with gloved hands, each touch cool and clinical.

After a tense silence, the doctor looked up, measuring her words carefully.

“Miss Morales,” she began, her voice low but steady, “would you like me to contact the police?”

Serena blinked, startled. “What?”

The doctor’s features softened, misreading her reaction. “If what happened wasn’t consensual, I can—”

“No,” Serena cut her off, her voice a bit too sharp. Heat flooded her face, prickling her skin. “That won’t be necessary.”

The doctor paused, studying her with a searching gaze before nodding. “You have some bruising, but nothing too concerning. I’ll prescribe you an anti-inflammatory to help with the soreness.”

Serena only half-heard the rest of the doctor’s instructions. She gathered the slip of paper mechanically, stepping back out into the antiseptic, echoing hallway.

Down in the lobby, the day’s traffic of visitors and staff blurred around her. Her mind was still clouded, her limbs heavy, when she nearly collided with Josh Morales.

He was immaculately dressed, a perfectly tailored charcoal suit hugging his athletic frame, and his hair gleamed under the lobby lights, styled within an inch of its life. Josh carried himself with a polished, easy confidence that made people trust him — a charm Serena had long since seen through.

His gaze dropped to the pharmacy bag in her hand, his dark eyes flashing briefly with an unreadable glint before he pasted on his usual pleasant smile.

“Serena,” he greeted smoothly, as though nothing in the world could ever surprise him. “Picking up something for Valentina? Or are you not feeling well?”

His voice was syrupy sweet, laced with a curiosity that felt invasive.

Serena resisted the urge to recoil. “I’ve already seen her,” she said curtly, thrusting the pharmacy bag toward him. “Give this to Araminta.”

Josh arched an eyebrow, letting a sly grin slide across his lips. “Why not come along with me? It’s been a while since we caught up, hasn’t it?”

“Sorry,” she replied shortly, stepping past him. “I’m in a hurry.”

She didn’t look back, though she could feel the weight of his gaze crawling over her.

Josh watched her retreating figure with a glint of triumph in his eyes. He drummed his fingers against his luxury wristwatch, a wolfish satisfaction creeping into his expression.

Anti-inflammatories from the OB-GYN?

His smirk deepened, slow and cruel.

What a slut, he thought. Five years without her husband? Sooner or later, she’ll be mine.

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