* FREEBIE * 2nd * Chapter 202 : We’re not getting back together.

At dawn, with the sky still painted in shades of pale blue and gray, Serena arrived at Alexei’s company. It was only 7 a.m., but she moved with the sharp precision of someone who had been awake for hours—her resolve unwavering.

In the quiet of a sleek conference room, she signed an agreement with Alexei—her last ace in the hand she was about to play.

Once it was done, she opened her laptop, logged into the secure trading platform, and sent a direct message to the Richter Group.

“I have a 35% stake. I'm willing to sell.”

The response came quickly. On the other end, the acquisition team at Richter Group—already knee-deep in the covert buyout of Pinturas Grande—froze.

A 35% stake?

Until now, they'd only managed to purchase 16%. With this additional chunk, their ownership would leap past the 51% threshold—enough to take full control of the Morales family company. It was the kind of offer that could change the tide of a battle—and they could hardly believe their luck.

What they didn’t know, however, was that Serena had already transferred the 35% stake.

Not to herself—but to Marilyn.

It was a strategic move, and a risky one. If Richter’s team saw that the shares had come from Serena, they might have gotten suspicious. But with Marilyn, the transaction looked clean—like a quiet, isolated seller just wanting out. Exactly what they were hoping for.

Serena knew it was a gamble. If Marilyn betrayed her, if she took the shares and vanished, there was little she could do. But Serena had also signed a binding agreement with Alexei overnight—a hidden contingency buried in legal precision. No one knew its contents yet, not even Marilyn.

At the Richter Group, the mood turned electric.

Someone quickly rushed to inform Victoria.

“Miss Laurent,” they said excitedly, “someone just offered us 35% of Pinturas Grande. With the 16% we’ve already acquired, this would give us a majority stake. You’d have full control of the company—and be named the new president.”

Victoria’s lips parted slowly into a victorious smile.

She couldn’t believe how smoothly things were falling into place. Even Alexander hadn’t directly sent anyone to help her—only provided the funds. She had hired two consultants with the money, and they had done their jobs well.

The taste of revenge was almost within reach.

Just thinking about Serena made Victoria’s blood boil. The humiliation she’d endured—being called a mistress in public, in front of people from New York’s most elite circles—still stung. Her fingers clenched around her phone.

“What are the conditions?” she asked, trying to hide the edge in her voice.

“The asking price is high—twice the market rate. It’ll cost about twenty million.”

Victoria’s expression faltered.

Twenty million?

She had just spent six million on that fake Remmington painting—an expense that had already made her the butt of jokes. And now another massive sum? The Laurent family wasn’t poor, but she was starting to feel the strain. Whispers had begun circulating: “If Remmington didn’t want her as a student, how good can she really be?”

All thanks to Serena.

That country bumpkin had made a fool of her.

Still, she couldn't afford to hesitate. If this 35% landed back in Serena’s hands, combined with her existing shares, Serena would regain complete control of Pinturas Grande. Everything Victoria had done would be meaningless.

As if on cue, another message came in from Richter.

> “If we don’t close the deal, the seller says they’ll sell the shares back to Serena Morales.”

Victoria's expression hardened. The pressure was mounting. If Serena gained that stake, she’d dominate the board—no one would be able to oppose her.

Grinding her teeth, Victoria rushed to Westchester Manor to see Madam Vanderbilt.

Inside the parlor, with sunlight streaming through sheer drapes, she lowered her voice and carefully raised the topic of needing additional funds.

Madam Vanderbilt, still recovering and irate from recent events, listened with narrowed eyes. But before she could answer, her attorney stepped forward quietly.

“Madam, the court is still waiting. You may face a compensation fine in the tens of millions.”

Madam Vanderbilt’s expression turned stony. Her private account had funds—barely enough. Anything more, and she’d need to dip into the Vanderbilt family’s public funds, which would attract attention she didn’t want.

Still, her pride wouldn’t let her back down.

Her maternal family had once been powerful, and she had brought a sizable dowry into her marriage. Digging into that, she took a deep breath and waved her hand.

“Fine. Use my private funds,” she snapped. “Victoria, go. Make sure that woman’s left with nothing.”

Cordelia, seated beside her, chimed in eagerly. “She’s gone too far this time. I’ll help too.”

Together, they scraped together the million Victoria needed.

Victoria left Westchester Manor with a lightness in her step. The victory felt imminent.

But just as she stepped into her car, her phone lit up with a new message.

 “The game isn’t over yet. I won’t be the one crying at the end. —Serena.”

Victoria’s fingers tightened around her phone. Her cheeks flushed in fury. That smug, arrogant little—

She didn’t even let herself finish the thought. She dialed immediately.

“Buy the shares now. All of them.”

And not long after, Serena received confirmation from Richter.

The transaction would proceed.

She leaned back in her chair, a small smile curving on her lips.

The bait had been taken.

And the trap was ready to spring.

---

When Marilyn returned with the signed contract and a check in hand, Serena wasn’t at the office—she was at Upper West Side, curled up on the floor beside Rex.

The golden retriever lay sprawled out lazily, his fluffy belly exposed to the sun streaming through the windows, tail thumping contentedly on the hardwood. Serena was gently rubbing his ears, lost in thought, her mind already far from the battles she’d fought and the company she’d built from the ground up.

Marilyn entered quietly and placed the documents on the coffee table.

"Miss Morales," she said respectfully, "here’s the check for twenty million. And the finalized contract."

Serena nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping across the neat stack of legal paperwork. A symbol of everything that had just changed.

From this moment on, she was no longer the president of Pinturas Grande.

Victoria now owned 51% of the company. Even if every remaining shareholder pooled their votes together, none would outmatch her controlling interest. The Morales family business, the company Alfonso had nurtured for decades, was no longer theirs.

Serena’s eyes flicked up to the wall clock. It was only 3:00 p.m.

So quick. So final.

Back at the Morales building, barely an hour after the transfer was confirmed, Victoria had already swept in with all the ceremony of a conquering queen. Her heels clicked confidently on the marble floors as she strutted through the lobby, flanked by two assistants and wearing a smug smile that screamed victory.

Meanwhile, the Richter Group released an official statement.

“We are pleased to announce the acquisition of Pinturas Grande. As of today, we hold a majority stake and look forward to a new era of development.”

The press release spread like wildfire across New York’s corporate and social circles. For those who had been watching this cold war unfold between the two women, it was headline-worthy gossip.

Everyone had thought the fight would be a prolonged one. Explosive. Ruthless. Messy.

But no one expected Serena to lose so quickly.

In private group chats and whispered conversations behind champagne glasses, the elite circles buzzed.

 “Did you hear? Serena gave up her shares in less than two days.”

 “Victoria must’ve had help from Alexander. He’s still got her back, it seems.”

 “Poor thing. Imagine your own husband helping his first love steal your company.”

From afar, it was delicious drama. A socialite’s soap opera unfolding in real-time.

For Serena, it was a war fought alone.

Victoria, drunk on triumph, made her way through every department of the company, making sure every employee saw her face. Her tailored blazer was white, pristine—symbolic, perhaps, of a "fresh start." But her smirk gave her away.

When she finally reached the top floor, she stood outside what used to be Serena’s office.

The once-vibrant space had been stripped bare. A few bookshelves still remained, along with the faint scent of Serena’s perfume lingering in the air. The sunlight filtering through the windows illuminated the dust that floated where legacy used to sit.

Victoria scoffed. “How pathetic.”

She pulled out her phone, angled it just right, and snapped a photo of the empty office.

Then, she sent two texts to Serena:

 “Remember, kneel and apologize to me at nine tonight.”

 “Your company is quite shabby.”

Back at Upper West Side, Serena sat cross-legged on the couch, Rex’s head resting on her thigh. She stared at the messages.

No reaction. No expression. Not even a blink.

Her fingers gently stroked Rex’s fur as a faint breeze rustled through the curtains. The storm might have passed, but something far bigger was brewing—quietly, patiently, just beneath the surface.

And Victoria had no idea what was coming.

--- 

Back at the Morales family company, a few board directors who had previously plotted to sell their shares to Victoria began to grow uneasy. They had conspired behind Serena’s back, concealing the secret stock acquisitions from her, confident that they were on the winning side. But now, things weren’t playing out exactly as expected.

What unsettled them most was that Serena hadn’t publicly disclosed how many shares she had sold—or whether she had sold them at all. They assumed that even if she had lost the title of president, she still retained a sizable portion of the company’s equity. And if that were true, they would remain beneath her thumb on the board.

None of them had stakes as significant as hers. That meant one thing: they would have no power, no voice—and would likely become targets the next time heads rolled.

Desperate to avoid being left holding worthless paper, many directors were now eager to offload their shares.

They had initially planned to wait for a better offer, but Victoria had moved with such alarming speed. With her now holding 51% of the company, their remaining shares were essentially worthless in terms of control. If they didn’t sell soon, they risked being trapped.

Then, like a miracle, a new buyer appeared—offering to purchase their shares at a high price.

The directors were stunned. After the chaos of the last few days, who would be foolish—or bold—enough to buy Morales stock at a premium?

Still, the offer was real. The buyer was paying five dollars more per share than market rate. It wasn’t quite double, like what Victoria had paid for Serena’s shares, but it was more than enough for them to cut their losses with a tidy profit.

None of them hesitated. They sold.

Only one board member held back—the Human Resources Director.

Serena had always pegged him as a cautious opportunist. He owned 5% of the company and now chose to sit on his shares, watching as the rest of the board sold off their equity like fire sale antiques.

Little did any of them know: the shares they had just sold? They all went right back into Serena’s hands.

Through a quiet chain of intermediaries—and a carefully executed deal with Alexei—Serena had just bought back nearly the entire remaining 44% of Pinturas Grande’s equity for ten million dollars.

And Victoria? She was none the wiser.

Fresh off her supposed victory, Victoria wasn’t just celebrating in private. She had the Richter Group publish an official statement confirming her acquisition, and she even posted about her success on social media—geotagging herself at the Pinturas Grande office and posing like a newly crowned monarch.

> “Excited for a new chapter as the President of Pinturas Grande. Onward and upward.”

Her message was plastered with hashtags, a curated picture of her in a white power suit, and a smirk that seemed to gloat across the screen.

Back at the Morales building, she stormed through the halls like a queen reclaiming her throne. Word had spread among the employees that there was a new president. But for most of them, it didn’t matter who sat at the top—so long as their paychecks cleared.

Victoria finally made her way to Serena’s old office, only to find it nearly bare. The shelves had been cleared, the desk spotless. The only thing left was the lingering fragrance of Serena’s perfume—a whisper of presence, haunting and elegant.

Victoria sneered.

So plain. So small. Just like her.

She snapped a photo of the empty office, then sent Serena two back-to-back messages:

> “Remember, kneel and apologize to me at nine tonight.”

“Your company is quite shabby.”

But Serena didn’t reply. She didn’t flinch.

At 7 p.m., Victoria made her next move: she headed straight to Alexander’s office.

As soon as he stepped out from a meeting, she was there—wearing another designer outfit and that same expectant smile. She reached out to hook her arm around his.

But this time, Alexander stepped back.

His face was expressionless as he glanced down at her hand. “What’s the matter?”

His tone was polite, distant.

Victoria followed him into the office, already sensing that something was off. Still, she tried to salvage the moment.

"Alexander, I’ve officially acquired the Morales family's company,” she said proudly, standing tall like she was delivering news of a royal conquest.

Seated at his desk, Alexander barely blinked. “So soon?”

That was all he said.

Victoria smiled, trying to read his mood. “Yes. I didn’t think I’d gain control so quickly either. But the Morales group is just... laughably weak. Serena hasn’t even shown up since. She’s probably at home smashing her cosmetics in tears.”

Alexander's lips twitched into a cool, mirthless smirk. He was staring at his monitor, fingers tapping on the keyboard, when he said quietly, “Victoria.”

She perked up, thinking he was about to praise her.

But his next words pierced her heart like a dagger.

“We’re not getting back together.”

Victoria froze.

For a moment, she thought she had misheard.

"Alexander... are you joking?"

He looked up at her with the same calm, clear gaze that had always been just out of reach. Cold. Measured. Unreadable.

That was the look she hated most.

Even when they were together, he had never been the affectionate type. Holding hands in public had always been her idea. Hugging him had been an effort. The memory of the few times he had allowed her in his arms now felt like fantasies.

Tears welled in her eyes. "But Marken said you’d take care of me…"

Alexander paused. The mention of Marken made his jaw tighten.

“I did consider it,” he said. “But now I don’t. I thought it was better to tell you directly.”

Victoria felt the blood drain from her face. Her fingernails dug into the fabric of her pants.

“Then who do you want to marry now?”

Her voice cracked as she spat the question, ready to hunt down and destroy whoever he might name.

But Alexander only responded, cool and steady, “No one.”

For a second, that gave her a strange sense of relief. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw it clearly:

He didn’t care.

He didn’t care about her.

“Alexander... even if you don’t want anyone, why can’t I stay by your side?” she whispered, pitifully. “I said I’d pursue you. Are you going to deny me even that?”

But his gaze didn’t soften.

“You should go home.”

That was all he said.

Victoria stood there, stunned. It was like looking at a stranger.

But maybe—just maybe—he had always been this way.

Swallowing her pride, she forced a bitter smile. “I understand. You’re in a bad mood tonight. I’ll come back when you’re feeling better.”

And with that, she turned and walked away—her heels clicking sharply, her chest burning with rage, and her eyes already plotting her next move.