* FREEBIE / NO PAYING * Chapter 249 : Let Serena go

Triggee Warning marked with ### and ##### again similar to previous chapter... proceed with caution

---

When they arrived at the hospital, the corridor was already crowded with members of the Vanderbilt family. Their faces were drawn, tense, each carrying a silent dread. The news of what had happened to Rita had traveled fast within their circle, but no one dared speak it aloud. An oppressive hush filled the waiting area, heavy enough to crush even the faintest whisper.

If word of this incident leaked beyond these walls, Rita’s reputation would be shattered.

Diana let out a weary sigh, her shoulders drooping. “Why would Rita go there all of a sudden?”

Alexander shook his head, jaw tense. “The kidnappers are finished. They won’t be around to talk. I’ll arrange for her to see a psychologist.”

It was all they could do for now.

Moments later, Rita’s parents, Justin and his wife, arrived. Their expressions were unsettlingly calm, as if this was just another business inconvenience. Justin, in particular, radiated a steely composure that chilled the room.

Alexander had always known that Justin was far more calculating than his brother Charlie. Justin had dedicated his entire life to protecting the Vanderbilt Group’s interests, never once making a mistake. He had even kept their son Louis overseas, far from the family’s ruthless internal power games.

In contrast, Charlie had kept his son Trent close in New York, which had led to an endless stream of scandals that made Cornelius, the family patriarch, sigh with exasperation.

Justin stepped forward, studying Alexander carefully before he spoke. “How’s Rita holding up?”

“Not well,” Alexander replied honestly.

Justin exhaled, his expression inscrutable. “Alexander, I’m going to call Louis back. With everything that’s happened to Rita, she’ll want to see her brother.”

Louis, who’d been abroad for years, was the family’s well-protected golden child, while Rita had been spoiled and shielded at home. No one could predict what Justin was truly planning by recalling him now. If Louis returned, it could rattle Charlie’s side of the family.

Alexander kept his tone steady. “That’s your decision.”

Justin’s gaze sharpened. “If Louis comes back, can he join the Vanderbilt Group?”

Rita had been hurt on Alexander’s watch, and he felt the sting of guilt. Justin clearly saw that as leverage, pressing for Louis’s place within the family empire. With Rita’s suffering as a bargaining chip, refusing would look cruel.

It was the perfect setup.

“Louis is welcome to join the Vanderbilt Group,” Alexander replied flatly, giving away nothing. Then he turned toward the hospital room, addressing the doctor nearby. “Is she awake?”

The doctor shook his head, looking worried. “Ms. Vanderbilt is still in shock. She has a high fever and likely won’t regain consciousness for another three days.”

Alexander nodded, then looked around the room filled with uneasy relatives. “I’m leaving.”

---

The only person truly worried about Rita was Diana. Perhaps because they were both women, or because she had watched Rita grow up under her roof, Diana felt the weight of this tragedy more than the rest.

Inside the stark white hospital room, Rita lay unconscious, tangled in a feverish nightmare. The girl who had once sparkled with youthful confidence now looked pale and fragile, her skin washed out beneath the hospital lights. Even in her restless coma, she trembled and muttered.

“Serena, I hate you… why did you leave me…”

Her lips moved feverishly, as if repeating a curse.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to get back at me…”

“I hate you. I hate you.”

Her fingers clutched the bedsheet in a death grip, knuckles white.

For a girl who had been pampered all her life, what she had endured was a nightmare beyond her imagination. And now, her heart boiled over with resentment. The memory of Serena pulling her away from the hostage group—exposing her to the kidnappers—played on repeat in her mind. That betrayal, perceived or real, festered into something monstrous, a hatred so potent it seemed to stain her very bones.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you.”

Diana stepped into the room just as those words broke through the quiet, carrying a chill that made her pause.

She walked to the bedside, leaning in carefully. “Rita, what are you saying?” she asked softly, as if afraid to stir up more of the girl’s nightmares.

“Serena, I hate you. It’s all because of you that I—” Rita’s voice was ragged, laced with venom. “If you had taken me with you, this wouldn’t have happened…”

Diana’s heart sank. Serena’s name had fallen from Rita’s feverish lips, twisted by confusion and anger.

Why would Rita blame Serena? Was Serena there too?

Diana looked at the doctor, questions bubbling in her mind — but they would have to wait. Only once Rita awoke could they piece together the truth. 

---

As the car pulled away from the curb, Alexander stopped at a red light and found himself reaching into his pocket for the slip of paper he’d grabbed from the scene earlier that day. Ava’s familiar handwriting sprawled across the note, every stroke graceful yet confident.

He stared at it, trying to pin down why it nagged at him so persistently — why that handwriting felt so familiar, so close, yet just beyond reach. But the memories blurred.

Alexander had never truly taken the time to notice details about his ex-wife, and now that negligence came back to bite him.

The light turned green. Alexander carefully folded the note and slipped it back into his pocket, steering the car onward toward Manhattan Villa.

By the time he arrived, he was running on nothing but a gnawing emptiness in his stomach. He grabbed a quick meal on the first floor, exchanging a brief word with a servant.

“Where’s she?” he asked, his voice low but edged with impatience.

“Ms. Alvarez went upstairs to rest, sir. She looked very tired,” the servant replied politely.

Without wasting another moment, Alexander bounded up the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the bedroom door to find her, just as the servant had said — a small, vulnerable shape curled under the covers.

He stepped into the bathroom to wash up, the steam from the sink clinging to his tired face. Moments later, he emerged in soft cotton pajamas, and without a second thought, slipped beneath the covers and pulled Ava into his arms.

Ava, already teetering on the edge of sleep, stirred as he moved closer. She could barely pry her eyes open, so exhausted her body felt like lead. Instinctively, she punched his shoulder with what little strength she had left, frustrated.

How does he still have the energy for this after chasing that car all night and going without sleep for more than a day? she fumed internally.

Before she could voice her protest, Alexander claimed her lips in a deep, overwhelming kiss, swallowing her half-formed words and leaving her helpless beneath the weight of his warmth and his touch.

---

The next day, Ava didn’t stir until nearly noon.

When she finally woke, Alexander was long gone. She dressed quickly in the fresh clothes someone had laid out for her, then went downstairs, where lunch waited neatly on the polished table.

“Ms. Alvarez, please have something to eat,” the servant urged with respectful deference.

She took a moment to eat, her mind already churning with worries, then rushed off to the office.

Despite being buried under a mountain of work the past few days, Ava was relieved to see that the company’s projects were progressing on schedule.

Ruiz Star Entertainment was reeling from a wave of bad publicity, while E.A. Corp had seized the moment to rise. The company’s name was suddenly everywhere — riding the momentum of public attention, capitalizing on every opportunity. News of Wes signing with E.A. Corp had sparked even more conversation, catapulting their visibility to new heights.

E.A. Corp was rapidly becoming a major player in the entertainment industry.

Back at her own desk, Ava placed her jellyfish-shaped seal gently into a drawer, then busied herself with stacks of paperwork. When she paused to take a breath, she pulled the seal back out, studying it again. That small symbol still gnawed at her, its meaning shrouded in mystery.

The kidnappers were all dead. There was no one left to question, no loose threads to follow.

Just then, her phone buzzed. Lucca’s name flashed across the screen. Her heart jumped.

Lucca — the young Italian heir. Some of the kidnappers had spoken Italian, and their tattoos had seemed familiar to her. If anyone might know the truth behind that design, it was Lucca.

Without hesitation, she picked up the call. Within minutes, they’d agreed to meet later that night in a discreet bar downtown.

---

Meanwhile, at the Vanderbilt Group, Alexander finished up a mountain of morning reports but found himself staring absently at that same folded note. Its existence clawed at his thoughts, leaving him uneasy.

The door clicked open. Jonathan stepped in briskly, reporting, “Mr. Alexander Vanderbilt, Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt is going to the hospital to visit Ms. Vanderbilt today. He’d been avoiding her, but because of Rita’s situation, he couldn’t delay any longer.”

Alexander nodded faintly, distracted. As Jonathan lingered, awaiting more orders, Alexander spoke his name quietly:

“Jonathan…”

Jonathan straightened, attentive.

But Alexander’s next words evaporated on his tongue. He sighed instead, almost in defeat. “Never mind,” he muttered, waving him off.

Jonathan gave him a puzzled look but chose not to pry, slipping out of the office and leaving Alexander alone with the silent note and a swirl of tangled, unanswered questions.

--- 

Ava arrived at the bar, only to find Lucca had beaten her there.

The low thrum of bass spilled into the hallway as she stepped inside, catching the scent of spilled whiskey, expensive cologne, and candle wax melting on the tables. Almost instantly, she bumped into Hugo and Colton by the entrance.

Hugo, glass of bourbon in hand, raised a brow in surprise. “Ava? I thought you’d be glued to Alexander’s side tonight.” Then he remembered the tension between them and smirked knowingly. “Or maybe he’s too busy to hit the bar these days, huh?”

Ava forced a polite smile, steadying her voice. “I’m here to see Lucca.”

Hugo gave her a look halfway between teasing and conspiratorial. “Done with Alexander already? Jumping ship?”

She didn’t know how to answer that, and the awkward pause stretched until Hugo leaned closer, wagging his brows. “Lucca isn’t a bad fallback. Generous, too, when it comes to the ladies.”

Before Ava could correct him, Colton’s cold voice sliced through the moment. He stepped forward, arms folded, his gaze hard as granite. “You sure change your backers quickly, Ms. Alvarez.”

Ava froze for a second, then met his eyes calmly.

Colton’s expression stayed icy. “One day, you might get bitten back. Think about your future.”

Ava arched an eyebrow, refusing to be rattled. “Mr. Valcrosse, you don’t need to worry about me,” she replied evenly.

Hugo, sensing the tension, laughed awkwardly. “All right, Ms. Alvarez, you better go on ahead. Colton and I were just leaving anyway.”

He tried to nudge Colton along. Ava didn’t linger, slipping past them and heading toward Lucca.

Meanwhile, across town at the Manhattan Villa, Alexander had just gotten home. The place smelled faintly of cedar and fresh paint from the recent renovation. Not seeing Ava around, he called her.

Ava had just reached the private room in the bar, where the music was muffled and the air was cooler. She answered. “Mr. Vanderbilt.”

“Where’d you run off to?” Alexander asked, his voice low, almost tired.

Ava hesitated. If she told him she was at a bar, he might show up and cause a scene. “Working late,” she lied smoothly.

Alexander fell silent for a moment. “Take care of yourself,” he finally said.

Her tone stayed formal. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Vanderbilt.”

That polite distance in her voice made Alexander feel off-kilter, as if the night they’d spent together had never happened. His jaw tightened, but he ended the call without another word.

Just as he threw himself down on the couch, the doorbell rang.

Thinking it might be Ava, he hurried to open it — but standing in the doorway was Cornelius.

“Grandpa,” Alexander greeted, stepping aside.

Cornelius stepped in, taking a sweeping glance at the new decor. “The house turned out well,” he remarked with a faint nod of approval.

Alexander wordlessly asked the housekeeper to bring tea.

Cornelius eased himself down on the couch with a weary sigh. “Diana told me Rita’s been talking in her sleep. But when I asked what she was muttering, she refused to share. Said we’d know once Rita woke up.” He pinned Alexander with a sharp look. “You didn’t see anyone suspicious at that building, did you?”

Alexander felt a jolt of worry, wondering if Rita might have mentioned Ava. If Cornelius connected Ava to Rita’s abduction, there’d be hell to pay.

“No,” Alexander answered carefully.

Cornelius grunted. “The government’s looking into the kidnappers. All of them were undocumented, most likely smuggled in, armed to the teeth. There’s no way they pulled that off alone — they must have had local help.”

Alexander nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere. His phone buzzed with a message from Hugo: [Ran into Ava at the bar. She’s meeting Lucca.]

Alexander’s blood ran cold, anger knotting in his stomach.

Trying not to show it, he forced a neutral expression as Cornelius kept talking.

“Alexander?” Cornelius called again, seeing him drift off. “What are you thinking about?”

Alexander snapped back. “Grandpa, we’ve got people handling this.”

Cornelius leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Those men didn’t come for Marken — they went straight to Charleston. What do you think they were really after?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander lied, though the image of Ava digging around that night flickered in his mind.

What exactly had she been trying to find? If the kidnappers weren’t after Marken’s research, then what was their true objective?

They had taken over a hundred hostages — including Ava, who had been specifically brought from New York.

Alexander’s chest tightened. Who really was she? Just a designer?

With sudden resolve, he stood up and reached for his coat.

Cornelius narrowed his eyes. “If you’re about to run after a woman, I swear I’ll break your legs.”

Alexander kept his expression calm. “Grandpa, I’m going to see Colton. He’s interrogating one of the captured gunmen.”

Cornelius relaxed slightly, leaning back. “That’s more like you.”

As soon as Alexander stepped out the door, he clenched the car keys in his fist, barely holding back his rage. He floored it, roaring straight toward the bar — to Ava.

---

In the dim, low-lit bar, Ava placed a neatly sketched scorpion tattoo across the polished oak table, sliding it toward Lucca.

“Mr. Reinaldi, have you ever seen this before?” she asked, her tone calm but clipped.

Lucca leaned in, studying the drawing. His dark brows lifted with surprise. “New Dawn?”

“You know about them?”

Lucca gave a lazy chuckle, resting his chin in his palm, his silver rings glinting beneath the warm lamplight. “I’ve only heard rumors. They’re an assassination syndicate, very old, very secretive. But they vanished off the map years ago after making too much noise.”

Ava felt a cold prickle race down her spine. “What kind of noise?”

Lucca’s half-smile turned wry. “They wiped out the world’s richest family about twenty years ago. Completely. That made every international police force want their heads on a platter. After that, anyone linked to them met a nasty end. They’re ghosts now, but if you ever cross them, trust me — they are extremely dangerous.”

Ava felt her skin crawl, glancing at her bag where the scorpion-stamped item lay hidden. Suddenly it seemed to radiate danger. Why did Elena give me this? Ava thought, her stomach twisting. No way she meant for me to hire cold-blooded killers… right? That wasn’t her.

Lucca went on, swirling the ice in his whiskey glass. “They’ve been around a long time. They call themselves the Life Snatchers. Pay them enough, and they’ll take out kings, presidents, your nosy neighbor. They don’t care. Twenty years ago, I’d bet a disinherited heir paid them to clean house.”

Ava swallowed, her throat dry. “Mr. Reinaldi, aren’t you worried someone might use them against you?”

He grinned, a sharp glint in his eyes. “New Dawn only cares about money. If someone tries to buy them to kill me, I’ll just outbid. They’ll turn on their employer in a heartbeat. Anyone who tries to take me down has to wonder: Can I pay more than Lucca Reinaldi? And if they can’t, well, they’ll die instead.”

Ava let out a shaky breath, still trying to wrap her head around it. “But that family you mentioned — they were the richest in the world. Couldn’t they pay?”

Lucca took a slow sip, looking amused. “The old man had forty mistresses. His fortune was split like a pie, crumbs in everyone’s pockets. No one was willing to band together to save him. So they died, just like that.”

Ava fell silent, her mind reeling. If she kept that scorpion-stamped pass, she might end up with a target on her back. But giving it to someone else might sign another person’s death warrant.

Seeing her worried face, Lucca reached across and pinched her cheek with a strange tenderness. “If you get in trouble, just tell me, alright?”

His voice was unexpectedly soft, sending a ripple of confusion through her.

That was the moment Alexander stormed in.

He froze at the doorway, taking in the scene: Ava alone with Lucca in a private booth, Lucca’s fingers still teasing her cheek.

Alexander’s eyes turned to fire. “Ava!”

He strode forward like a thunderstorm, grabbing her arm and yanking her up so hard her chair nearly toppled. “Have you no shame?” he hissed, his voice shaking with rage.

Is she replacing me? he thought bitterly. Me, Alexander Vanderbilt? The one getting dumped?

Ava’s patience snapped. She yanked her arm away, shooting him a look colder than ice. “Mr. Vanderbilt, I didn’t invite you tonight.”

At the entrance, Hugo and Colton shared a tense glance, half-expecting a brawl to break out.

Alexander stared at Ava in disbelief, fury simmering in his veins. After everything we went through, after last night… she’s this indifferent?

But Ava wouldn’t meet his eyes. Too many things had piled up — mysteries that gave her sleepless nights, Rita’s growing hatred, Cordelia’s cruel words. Staying close to Alexander felt like standing in the middle of a minefield.

Alexander’s breathing grew ragged, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Do you even like me, Ava?”

Her eyes turned sharp, almost pitying. “Mr. Vanderbilt, I thought we were always clear about what we were to each other.”

The faint glow in Alexander’s eyes extinguished completely, replaced by a depthless darkness. He laughed again, humorless, cold as a blade. “So that’s it? Everything with me was a game, Miss Alvarez?”

“If that’s how you want to see it, I can’t change your mind,” she said, voice steady as stone.

For a moment, Alexander felt as if he were looking at a stranger. She was so calm — too calm, as if she’d rehearsed cutting him out of her life a thousand times.

His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing. That split-second impulse to come here, to see her, felt like the world’s cruelest joke. His eyes went flat, deadened, a chill rolling off him that even Hugo could sense from the doorway.

Ava shifted her gaze to her untouched glass, refusing to look back.

Cordelia’s hatred. Diana’s dislike. Rita’s resentment.

Getting close to Alexander was like diving into a pit of knives. And besides, did he even love her? She could never really tell. Maybe all that intensity she’d felt during their struggles together was just adrenaline — the so-called suspension bridge effect.

Hugo braced himself for Alexander to explode. Colton tensed too, ready to intervene.

But Alexander only looked at her, his voice low and dangerously calm. “Fine. Let’s not bother each other anymore.”

He turned on his heel and left, each step radiating an icy determination. The temperature seemed to drop as he passed Hugo and Colton, a frozen silence following him.

Hugo hurried after him, but Colton lingered a second longer, arms folded, giving Ava a pointed, thoughtful look.

Had they really broken? he wondered. If so, then perhaps Farah could finally deal with Ava the way she wanted. After all, Farah had been trembling with fear ever since Ava’s last warning.

If Alexander wouldn’t protect Ava anymore…

Then the Valcrosse family might do as they pleased.

With a slight smirk, Colton raised an eyebrow, then pivoted to follow Alexander out the door.

*

Alexander stepped into the private room Hugo had booked for him. The hush of the expensive décor, the faint whiff of whiskey in the air, should have been calming — but Alexander looked like a storm about to break.

Hugo tried to lighten the mood, forcing a crooked grin as he handed over a glass of whiskey. “Don’t sweat it, man. It’s just a chick.”

But the moment the glass touched Alexander’s palm, he crushed it with a terrifying crack, shards slicing into his flesh. Blood dripped onto the glossy marble floor, stark and red.

Hugo’s smile faded. Anyone could see Alexander was genuinely hurt. For someone like him — usually cold, decisive, merciless — to keep his composure instead of lashing out was nothing short of astonishing. Under normal circumstances, if someone humiliated him, he’d make them pay tenfold, a hundredfold. But today, he’d chosen to bleed quietly.

Hugo struggled to find words, swallowing hard at the sight of Alexander’s shaking shoulders.

After a pause, he tried to steer the conversation with clumsy malice. “Honestly, she’s not even that pretty, man. Average looks, fickle heart — a perfect match for Lucca Reinaldi, really.”

Alexander’s eyes dropped to his torn, bloodied palm as he wiped it with a tissue. When he heard “a perfect match,” a bitter, icy sneer curled across his lips. “A match?” he echoed, voice razor-sharp. “How is that a match?”

He had lived through every trick and betrayal imaginable, but to be played by a woman — it grated against every instinct.

Hugo, uneasy, tried to rationalize. “Alexander, you saw how cold she was to you. Like a cliff face. Even if you jumped off it, she wouldn’t flinch. And honestly, I still can’t tell what Ava really wants.”

If Ava had been chasing wealth, she should have squeezed Alexander for every penny. Yet she hadn’t. Hugo couldn’t fathom it. In his eyes, it was Alexander who had been more desperate to please her.

Alexander tossed the bloodied tissue into the bin, disgust and confusion swirling together. He pulled out that slip of paper again — Ava’s handwriting. He didn’t know why it haunted him, but it did.

The thought of Ava just meters away with Lucca Reinaldi sent another surge of fury through his veins, his knuckles whitening.

It was just a woman, he told himself. Just a transaction. He had no reason to care so much.

No reason at all.

---

At the hospital, Rita was lost in the same nightmare, repeating again and again.

In the dream, the filthy laughter of the man who’d pinned her down rang in her ears, words like poison.

“You’re from the Vanderbilt family, right? I’ve seen you before. A rich pretty girl. Running here doesn’t come cheap.”

###

It wasn’t a nightmare — it was the brutal truth of what had happened. Rita had fled the storage room in panic, hoping to blend in with the other hostages, convinced no one would notice her. But one of the kidnappers recognized her. The color drained from her face. In that split second, a monstrous thought wormed into her mind.

When faced with death, even the proudest people become ugly.

She prayed Serena would appear and save her. But Serena hadn’t.

The man’s gun was already pressed to her chest. He was going to shoot her.

And she had crumbled.

A desperate, disgusting instinct to survive took over. She dropped to her knees, unthinkable shame flooding her body.

High-born, dignified Rita — reduced to this. If someone had told her a year ago she would strip herself bare to stay alive, she’d have spat in their face.

But here, in the grim stench of that warehouse, she peeled off her clothes, sobbing as she did it.

The man leered, hand still on the trigger — then lowered it, excitement flaring in his eyes. Without warning, he shoved tables together and roughly took her right there.

Rita wept, the kind of weeping that tore the soul. She cried from the pain. She cried from the horror. But above all, she cried from the shame — that she would rather live filthy than die clean.

It was the ugliest side of human nature.

#####

When Alexander finally barged in, her mind had gone blank with terror. She’d been sure he would hate her for surviving in such a way. So she latched on to a story, an explanation that saved her fragile pride: It was all Serena’s fault.

If Serena hadn’t pulled her away from the other hostages, she’d have been safe. If Serena hadn’t left her alone, she wouldn’t have been raped.

It was all Serena.

That thought was the only thing that let her live with herself. So she hated Serena with a burning, twisted hate.

Even in her sleep, she muttered deliriously, tears soaking the pillow. “I hate you… Serena, I hate you… If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. I want to die… I want to die…”

But deep down, Rita still wanted to live. Desperately.

Beside her hospital bed stood Diana and Cordelia.

Cordelia, newly arrived, looked confused and anxious. “What is she talking about? What does this have to do with Serena?”

Diana, her voice low and resigned, replied, “We’ll have to wait until Rita wakes up. Only she can say for sure.”

*

The next morning, Rita woke up in a haze. When she spotted Diana by the bedside, her eyes instantly brimmed with tears.

“Auntie…” she choked out, her voice raw.

Diana gently gathered her into a comforting embrace, feeling Rita’s shoulders quake in her arms. “Rita, what happened? You were calling Serena’s name over and over in your sleep. Does this have something to do with her?”

Rita’s long lashes fluttered, a tremor running through her as she tried to keep her story straight. She had to maintain the image of a perfect victim — that way, no one could ever blame her. Even she was surprised at how easily the lie came, but a bitter voice in her mind reasoned: Human nature is selfish. If Serena hadn’t left me behind, none of this would’ve happened. Why wasn’t it Serena who got raped instead?

“It was Serena…” she whispered, voice cracking in a pitiful, broken tone. “She left me there, Auntie. That’s why… that man—” Her words disintegrated into a sob.

Diana’s face darkened. Before Rita had even woken up, she’d seen the medical report: the extent of the injuries made her stomach twist.

“You mean Serena… Alexander’s ex-wife?” Diana pressed, voice tight.

Rita nodded, fresh tears spilling, and buried her face under the blanket, shaking uncontrollably.

Every inch of her body radiated a kind of battered, fragile misery.

Cordelia, standing nearby, exchanged a look with Diana, her eyes flashing with cold rage. “Serena was always shameless. Charleston’s trash, that’s what she is. She probably abandoned Rita on purpose to save her own worthless skin. My God, why did Dad ever let Alexander marry her? Even after the divorce, she still clings to the Vanderbilt name like a leech!”

Diana clenched her jaw at the thought, but before she could reply, Cordelia added, “Leave it to me. I’ll make sure Serena pays for this.”

Diana nodded slowly, then turned back to the sobbing girl. She smoothed Rita’s tangled hair away from her tear-streaked face. “Do you want some water?” she asked softly.

But Rita only cried harder, refusing to lift the blanket.

Cordelia’s mind was already racing with suspicions. There’s no way this was a coincidence, she thought darkly. Serena must’ve been following Alexander around, trying to win him back. How pathetic! She still hasn’t given up.

Cordelia took a long, steadying breath, then resolved to act. Ava was still using the Vanderbilt name, and Serena was causing chaos — both women had to be dealt with.

That evening, Cordelia decided to reclaim her place in the social circle by hosting a lavish party at Vanderbilt Manor. She personally drew up the guest list, inviting nearly every wealthy wife and socialite in their circle.

Before her public marital problems with Frederick, Cordelia had been the queen bee of these women, effortlessly holding court at coffee gatherings and high-end spas. But after the news of their split spread, she’d been lying low in embarrassment. Now, with rumors swirling, most of these women showed up to the party hungry for gossip and scandal.

Among them were wives who spent their days polishing their husbands’ reputations, currying favor with domineering mothers-in-law, and blowing through money on designer handbags and beauty regimens. Where there were women, there was hierarchy — and Cordelia planned to sit squarely back on top.

She had one of the house staff discreetly text Serena, claiming that Cornelius would be at the manor that evening and wanted a word with her.

When Serena saw the message, her heart sank. With Rita’s trauma still fresh and the swirling mess of blame and rumor, she was sure Cornelius must have heard something from Rita and needed answers.

Serena sighed, closing her tired eyes for a moment. Maybe it’s time to face them all, she thought.

She still felt a gnawing guilt over what happened — she had taken Rita with her because she feared the Vanderbilt name was too high-profile in the city. The kidnappers might have recognized Rita and made things worse. She’d hidden her, believing that with the family’s seal as leverage, they could both survive if caught. But the plan had collapsed spectacularly.

Now, the burden of tragedy weighed on her, so heavy she could barely stand it. She knew Rita had every right to hate her.

People had always judged Serena harshly, but it hurt so much more when those who once liked her turned against her. That pain stung deeper than any enemy’s scorn.

After steadying herself, she drove toward Vanderbilt Manor, bracing for what she might face behind its towering iron gates. 

At the grand entrance, Serena was led forward by a pair of silent, imposing bodyguards. As the heavy doors of the hall swung open, the scent of delicate pastries and sugared cream greeted her, wafting through the air. A long, gleaming table was set at the center, crowded with all sorts of exquisite desserts arranged like jewels.

Around it gathered a group of finely dressed women, each styled to perfection from their elaborate hairpins down to their polished shoes. The hall seemed to gleam with their status — a shimmering, cold sort of luxury.

Serena’s first instinct was to retreat, to turn and run, but Cordelia’s men blocked her path, forcing her to step inside.

These women, Cordelia’s so-called friends, turned curious, painted faces toward her, their eyes lighting up with surprise.

Cordelia stepped forward, a mocking smile twisting her lips as she yanked Serena closer like an exhibit on display.

“Let me introduce you all,” Cordelia announced, her voice cold and cutting. “This is the woman who recently divorced my son. Alexander’s ex-wife — Serena.”

A hush fell over the group. Some women recognized Serena as “Ava,” but now learned her true name for the first time. Confusion danced across their eyes, soon replaced by thinly veiled scorn.

Cordelia kept a firm grip on Serena’s arm, as if to make sure she could not flee. Serena felt her skin burn under the scrutiny, realizing with a sinking heart that tonight’s opponent was never Cornelius — it was Cordelia, laying a trap just for her.

Cordelia went on, twisting the knife with relish. “Five, she married my son, but he was so disgusted he fled abroad for five years and refused to come back.”

Her words ignited a fresh flurry of whispers.

“Ah, so that was the reason he left so suddenly…”

“They didn’t even have a proper wedding, did they?”

“She forced a marriage certificate through on her own, I heard…”

Cordelia laughed bitterly, emboldened. “When Alexander returned, she still wouldn’t let go. She kept chasing him around like some stray dog with no shame. I don’t know how she got pregnant, but she lost that baby. Even then, she wouldn’t give up. She trailed him endlessly, embarrassing herself and us.”

The onlookers’ gazes sharpened with judgment. Cordelia’s story had flipped Serena from a tragic woman to a shameless nuisance in an instant, and their gossip grew harsher, fueled by Cordelia’s status.

The women, wealthy and privileged, were, at heart, no different from ordinary gossips — protective of their families, suspicious of outsiders, quick to rally behind a powerful matriarch like Cordelia.

Cordelia knew exactly how to weaponize that.

“I told her a hundred times,” she continued dramatically, “Alexander loves someone else. He has no place for her. But she kept pestering him. I had no choice but to gather you all tonight to expose her true face. Be warned, if she ever aims for your sons, she’ll destroy your family just like she tried to destroy mine. Even my own marriage fell apart because of her!”

Cordelia’s voice trembled with a manufactured heartbreak as she pointed accusingly. “Alexander made it perfectly clear he didn’t want that child, but she insisted on carrying it.”

Serena, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice steady and calm despite her racing pulse.

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” she said clearly, “why drag me into your failed marriage? If you and Mr. Vanderbilt are divorcing, isn’t that because he doesn’t love you? Don’t pin all your failures on me. Do you think these ladies truly believe you? They’re only being polite. Deep down, they know the truth — you just can’t face the fact that your husband doesn’t love you, and that’s why he’s so cruel.”

A flicker of panic crossed Cordelia’s well-maintained mask, and her eyes darted to the other women, searching for support. But Serena’s pointed words had already cracked the illusion.

The ladies looked at each other uneasily, eyes shifting. Serena could see the subtle pity in their gazes, realizing they’d long guessed the truth but had simply kept silent to avoid Cordelia’s wrath.

Cordelia’s composure crumbled. Rage replaced her shock, twisting her features. Without warning, she snapped her fingers at the bodyguards. They seized Serena’s wrists, holding her in place as Cordelia stepped forward and slapped her across the face, twice, the sharp sound echoing in the hall.

Leaning close, Cordelia hissed, “I won’t let you get away with what you did to Rita. This time, you will never leave Vanderbilt Manor.”

Then, to break Serena’s spirit completely, Cordelia pulled out her phone, calling Alexander and putting it on speaker.

“Alexander,” she cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone, “Serena is asking to see you. Remember, she lost a child for you…”

Alexander, sitting at that moment in his Manhattan villa, stared down at the slip of paper in front of him. Hearing Cordelia’s voice, irritation flared across his features.

“That child wasn’t mine,” he snapped coldly. “Don’t ever call me about her again.”

He hung up without another word, shoving the paper aside, a vague sense of something amiss still gnawing at him.

Cordelia’s lips curled into a triumphant sneer as she ended the call. Without hesitation, she signaled to her guards.

“Take her away.”

And Serena, feeling the sting on her cheeks and the deep ache in her chest, realized she was about to face a storm far worse than she had ever imagined.

*

Cordelia adjusted her polished, dignified smile as she mingled with the other women gathered around her, the social air perfumed with expensive fragrances and false pleasantries.

At last, one woman dared to bring up the unspoken rumor.

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” she ventured, her voice tentative, “Serena is… well, she’s Mr. Vanderbilt’s designer, Ava Alvarez. There were whispers that he was interested in her — even personally picked her up and went home with her more than once. Maybe there’s some misunderstanding? Perhaps we should bring him back?”

The woman’s question was met with an icy, dagger-sharp look from Cordelia, silencing her instantly. The other women averted their gazes, pretending to sip their tea as tension chilled the air.

In Cordelia’s eyes, even the way Serena drew breath was a calculated ploy to seduce Alexander. After all, Serena was Elena’s daughter — and everything about that wretched bloodline deserved to be crushed.

If humiliating Ava, scaring her to death, or forcing her to flee New York altogether was what it took to preserve her marriage to Frederick, Cordelia would do it a thousand times over. She had known Frederick since they were children — how could she accept losing him to a woman like Elena, who had appeared out of nowhere and stolen his heart?

Downstairs, the bodyguard dragged Serena roughly into a pitch-black chamber — the Vanderbilt estate’s punishment room. The space reeked of mold, the air stale and suffocating. As the heavy door slammed shut behind her, Serena’s hands fumbled along the walls, desperate to ground herself in the oppressive dark.

Then she heard it — a faint, skin-prickling rustle. Her fingertips brushed against something slick and cold. The sudden, unmistakable slither of a snake made her heart leap into her throat. She shrieked, the sound bouncing eerily off the walls, returning to her tenfold, amplifying her terror.

Serena curled up against the stone wall, hugging her knees, fighting to steady her breathing. The darkness felt infinite, pressing on her from every side, feeding her dread. The whispering, slithering shapes occasionally brushed across her ankles, making her flinch and bite her lip to keep from screaming again.

Outside, Cordelia carried on entertaining her guests with flawless composure. Once everyone had left, she dialed Rita’s number.

Rita answered in a fragile voice, still trembling, her lips pale.

“Rita,” Cordelia began, her voice chillingly calm, “I’ve locked Serena up in the dark room with a few snakes. Leave her there for a week — she’ll lose her mind from fear. Consider this repayment for what happened to you.”

Rita froze, color draining from her face. The guilt hit her like a wave. She had blamed Serena to save herself, but Serena was Alexander’s precious Ava. If something truly happened to her, would Alexander hate her forever?

But Cordelia pressed on, merciless. “Don’t you dare tell Alexander about this.”

Rita opened her mouth, but no words came. She was trapped in her own nightmare, waking night after night in a cold sweat from the memories of her assault. Deep down, she knew Serena hadn’t truly wronged her. Serena had even promised to protect her if she stayed quiet.

“Rita,” Cordelia continued, voice dripping venom, “she deserves to die. If not for her, you wouldn’t have been violated. And if people find out what happened to you, do you think they’ll still respect you? Still love you?”

The words stabbed straight through Rita’s battered pride, making her shrink.

Satisfied by her silence, Cordelia changed the subject. “At tonight’s party, someone mentioned Serena was Alexander’s designer, Ava. Are they still spreading that rumor?”

Rita hesitated, then whispered, “Yes. Alexander really likes her, but he still doesn’t know she’s Serena.”

Cordelia’s face twisted with rage. Elena had stolen Frederick. Now Elena’s daughter wanted to steal her son?

A glint of sheer malice flashed in Cordelia’s cold eyes. “Remember, don’t let Alexander find out. When this is over, I’ll personally choose a proper wife for him.”

Rita, terrified and conflicted, merely nodded. After the call ended, she curled up on the bed, trembling.

Cordelia, meanwhile, ordered her men, “Toss in some centipedes, too. And don’t give her food or water for three days. She’ll go mad before she dies.”

The thought of Serena — Elena’s daughter — breaking down in the pitch-black with venomous creatures made Cordelia’s lips curl in a cruel, satisfied smile. Even from the grave, Elena would know what it felt like to see her child destroyed.

Cordelia sighed, almost giddy with satisfaction.

That was justice, as far as she was concerned.

---

Night had settled over New York City, blanketing the skyline in a hush. The world outside stilled, but Alexander’s mood was anything but calm.

Inside his study at the Manhattan villa, he was locked in back-to-back meetings, yet his mind kept circling around Ava. Her rejection earlier in the private room had left a bitter taste that wouldn’t wash away.

When Jonathan stepped in with an update, he ventured to speak. “Mr. Vanderbilt, Ms. Alvarez has been through a marriage. Maybe she’s just... more cautious about feelings.”

Alexander’s gaze dropped, the glint in his eyes turning cold as iron. Why the hell should he care about her past? That had nothing to do with him. What mattered was that she had rejected him—flatly, almost cruelly.

“How she handles her feelings is no longer my problem,” Alexander shot back, voice clipped and hard. He slammed his laptop shut, catching the clock out of the corner of his eye. It was already late.

But something in the night felt off. He showered and tried to sleep, only to toss and turn. Even when he grabbed a book to distract himself, the words blurred and refused to sink in.

By one in the morning, unable to bear it any longer, he dressed again and headed out.

This time, he drove himself to the Upper West Side.

The area was quiet, the night broken only by the soft spill of light from a handful of townhouses. He cracked the car window and lit a cigarette, drawing on it absentmindedly. Smoke curled around him, sharp and acrid in the cool air.

Halfway through the cigarette, he took out his phone and dialed Ava.

No answer.

He leaned back against the headrest, staring through the windshield at nothing, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Why had he come here at all?

He laughed, low and humorless, mocking himself. What a fool. Without another thought, he started the car and pulled away.

On the way back, he passed a familiar building but barely spared it a glance. It was the Morales family’s company, though he had never paid enough attention to even remember what it looked like.

At the entrance, a woman stood on the phone, her expression tense and worried. It was Marilyn, pacing on the sidewalk, trying to hail a cab between frantic calls. She’d been trying to reach Serena all day.

Earlier, they’d celebrated together—E.A. Corp’s new series had not only passed review but shattered viewership records on its first day. It was supposed to be a night of triumph. Yet since afternoon, Serena hadn’t answered a single call, and dread was creeping up Marilyn’s spine.

When Marilyn spotted the luxury car rolling by, its windows cracked just enough to reveal Alexander’s profile, she hesitated, then hurried closer.

“Mr. Vanderbilt!” she called, voice cautious yet desperate.

Alexander’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. Hearing the voice, he turned, eyes narrowing in recognition.

Marilyn swallowed hard. “I’ve been calling Ms. Morales all day, but she’s not answering. I’m really worried something might have happened.”

He scowled. “Ms. Morales?”

“Yes, Serena Morales,” Marilyn explained, voice faltering under his cold stare. “Your... your ex-wife, sir.”

Alexander’s jaw clenched. Why did everyone insist on dragging Serena back into his life?

“Ms. Morales has never just disappeared like this, especially not today. It’s a critical time for us. Mr. Vanderbilt, I was hoping you could—”

Before she could finish, Alexander stepped on the accelerator, the car lurching forward.

Marilyn stumbled back, clinging awkwardly to the window, refusing to let go. “Mr. Vanderbilt!” she called again, breathless. “Ms. Morales always said you two had a good relationship—if something happened to her, wouldn’t you care?”

Alexander’s face darkened, his patience snapping. A good relationship? With Serena? That was the joke of the century.

“Let go,” he ordered, voice like ice.

Marilyn, terrified, released her grip on the window.

Without another word, Alexander sped off, his scowl deepening. He cursed himself for coming out tonight at all, a sour taste flooding his mouth.

He should have just stayed in bed. 

---

Cordelia finally saw the last of the guests out of the villa, her smile collapsing the instant the door closed. She turned sharply to the bodyguards. “Did you find her?”

One of them shook his head, nervous under her gaze. “Mrs. Vanderbilt, we haven’t found her yet.”

“Useless!” Cordelia spat, her voice shrill. “How can someone just vanish? Keep looking! Tear the place apart if you must — find her!” Panic rippled through her. If Serena slipped through her fingers now, her entire plan would crumble.

Just as she hissed her final command, a familiar, cold voice came from behind.

“What are you looking for?”

Cordelia froze, terror flooding through her veins. Why is he back now?

She turned with a forced smile. “Xander, what brings you home today?”

Alexander stood in the entryway, handsome yet impassive, adjusting the cuff of his white shirt. “Father said you’ve been stirring up trouble,” he said flatly, eyes scanning the room. The midday gathering was strange, even for Cordelia.

Cordelia’s heart hammered in her chest. “It’s… because your father wants a divorce,” she stammered.

Alexander barely reacted, loosening his tie as he stepped further into the foyer. Before he could head up the stairs, his sharp eyes caught movement on the floor — something slithering.

A snake.

He watched it, calm but lethal. “Why is there a snake inside the villa?”

The house was fumigated every three days — no pests ever survived. A snake could only mean one thing: someone had put it there on purpose.

Cordelia quickly signaled the guards to capture it. “Maybe the fumigation service missed a spot,” she said too quickly.

Alexander narrowed his gaze, but she blocked his path as he tried to investigate. She had to keep him away — if he uncovered what she’d planned for Serena, everything would unravel.

If today had gone as she’d hoped, she wouldn’t have worried about him seeing the truth. Serena would have been violated, and Alexander’s pride would never accept her again. But Serena had escaped, and that made Cordelia desperate.

“Why are you back today?” she forced out, trying to steer him away from suspicion.

Alexander ignored her, climbing the stairs to retrieve some documents.

As soon as he was out of sight, Cordelia barked at her men in a hushed, frantic voice. “Lock those things up. Now!”

“Yes, madam,” the bodyguards answered.

Alexander came back down with a folder tucked under his arm. As he approached the door, a thought struck him, and he stopped cold. “Someone told me Serena went missing, and you called me about her. Mom, did you have her taken?”

Cordelia froze, her lips twitching. “Why? Do you… care about her?”

Alexander’s tone was icy. “I don’t care, but Grandpa does. If he finds out you hurt Serena, you and Father will be divorced for sure.”

The word divorce made Cordelia tremble with fury. “That’s why I need you to help me convince your father to stay with me!”

“Let Serena go,” Alexander said calmly.

“Impossible!” Cordelia snapped, her mask of dignity slipping away. “I want that bitch ruined!” Hatred twisted her features — a hatred born of decades resenting Elena, now projected on Serena.

Alexander looked at her, disgust in his gaze. “Do whatever you want. Just make sure Grandpa never finds out,” he warned coldly.

Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she wished Marken had survived instead of Alexander — Marken would have obeyed her. But with only Alexander left, she had no choice but to cling to him.

He turned to leave, and Cordelia called after him, voice desperate, “Alexander, you have to stay away from Elena’s family! They’re a curse!”

Alexander paused, then looked over his shoulder with steely eyes. “Mom, either don’t do it, or if you do, clean up every loose end.” The disgust was unmistakable in his voice. Without another word, he walked away.

Cordelia stood there, defeated, until she saw him pause along the path. He crouched down to pick up something glinting on the ground — a hairpin, encrusted with tiny diamonds. Feminine, elegant, and definitely expensive.

No servant at the Vanderbilt villa would own such a piece. Maybe a guest had dropped it?

Cordelia’s breath faltered. That’s Serena’s.

She forced a smile, stepping closer. “Oh, Alexander, that must belong to one of the party ladies. Let me take it; I’ll return it.”

But Alexander didn’t move. He studied the pin with a strange expression before slipping it into his suit pocket. “Did Ava come here?” he asked, voice calm but cutting.

Cordelia’s hands shook. “Ava? Who is that? I don’t know her!”

Alexander’s jaw tightened, seeing straight through her.

“I’ll keep the hairpin,” he said shortly.

Cordelia lunged to take it, but he turned away, dismissing her completely. He had a powerful gut feeling about that hairpin — one that refused to be ignored.

“Alexander, why do you care about a woman’s hairpin?” Cordelia’s voice was tight with panic.

He didn’t answer, just walked on without another glance.

“Stay out of my business,” he threw over his shoulder, final, cold, and absolute.

Cordelia stood there, rage surging in her chest. Why couldn’t you have died instead of Marken? she thought bitterly. But Alexander was all she had left, no matter how unwilling.

---

Back at the Vanderbilt Group’s offices, Alexander sat at his sleek mahogany desk, the city skyline glittering beyond the glass. He pulled out the hairpin and studied it under the lamp, turning it over in his hand.

Jonathan entered and paused, eyes catching on the sparkling pin. Wasn’t that Ava’s?

But Jonathan didn’t know Alexander had gifted it to her privately last Christmas, on a whim. Ava had never asked for anything — she’d worn it without a word.

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Mr. Vanderbilt, if you miss Ms. Alvarez, why not just call her?”

Alexander stilled, still staring at the delicate piece. “I’m not thinking about her,” he lied, slipping it into his drawer.

Jonathan tilted his head, reflecting. “Honestly, Ms. Alvarez never struck me as a woman with a messy private life. Her eyes were too clear. If she was after your money, she would’ve asked long ago. But she didn’t. She only ever asked you for help, openly.”

A moment of silence.

Jonathan added in a hushed voice, almost to himself, Maybe she doesn’t want your money… maybe she just wants your power. He thought he had cracked her motives, but wisely kept that conclusion to himself.

Alexander said nothing, but his grip tightened around the hairpin, his mind a maelstrom of suspicion, longing, and something dangerously close to regret. 

--- 

Serena huddled in the pitch-dark room, her throat parched, every breath catching painfully in her chest. The cold, clammy slither of a snake brushing her ankle made her jerk violently, only for a moment later a centipede to creep across the back of her hand. She stifled a scream, squeezing her eyes shut, trying desperately not to think about the horrors crawling all around her.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. Her mind began to fracture under the endless darkness, her senses betraying her until she couldn’t tell hallucination from reality. Hunger gnawed at her ribs, icy air bit through her thin clothes, and terror coiled tighter and tighter until it seemed to crush her lungs.

In her panic, she began to slam her head against the wall, over and over, the dull thud echoing through the silent villa.

Outside the door, the guards heard the relentless banging. One checked the time, yawning as he leaned against the wall. “She’s been at it for hours,” he drawled. “Give her another three hours, she’ll snap for sure. Mrs. Vanderbilt said to pack her off to a mental hospital after that. Watch her for a bit—I’m dead on my feet and need some shut-eye.”

He lumbered away, leaving his partner alone in the hallway. The remaining guard glanced around. No cameras, no witnesses. A filthy thought sparked in his mind, dark and greasy.

This was Alexander Vanderbilt’s ex-wife. The Serena Alvarez. If he had a taste of her, wouldn’t everyone die of envy?

A twisted grin crept over his face.

He was about to push open the door when footsteps sounded behind him.

Cordelia stood there, dressed impeccably, her cold eyes narrowing as if she could see straight through him. “What?” she asked, arching a brow. “Thinking about having a bit of fun?”

He stammered, “Mrs. Vanderbilt, I... I wouldn’t dare, I just—”

Her lips curled in a cruel smile. “If you want to, then do it. Bring some others, too. When you’re finished, lock her up for a couple more days, then send her straight to the mental hospital. Nobody will want her after that.”

The man’s eyes gleamed at her permission. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed eagerly.

Cordelia turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the marble, a satisfied smirk on her face. Once Serena was violated, no one—least of all Alexander—would ever want her again.

The guard wasted no time. He unlocked the heavy steel door.

The sudden blast of light made Serena flinch, tears springing to her eyes, the brightness burning after so many hours of pitch black. She couldn’t focus. Her head pounded, her limbs felt leaden, and her vision swam with spots.

The guard stepped in, eyeing the snakes and centipedes still crawling over the floor with a shiver. Even he was unsettled, but the sight of Serena’s delicate, fragile body overrode his disgust.

“Hey, beautiful,” he sneered, his grin widening, “here I come.”

Serena didn’t even see him clearly. She was numb, moving on pure instinct, still slamming her head in a dull, repetitive rhythm against the wall.

As he reached to pull her away, she suddenly reacted, a scream tearing from her throat. She shoved him with all her meager strength, sending him stumbling backward into the nest of snakes.

He shrieked in terror as the cold reptiles slithered across his skin. Serena, wide-eyed and wild, seemed to wake up at that moment. She lunged forward and slammed his skull against the floor with a sickening crack.

He went limp.

Panting, Serena staggered to her feet. The taste of metal flooded her mouth—blood from biting her lip—but she didn’t notice. Her legs felt like they might give out at any moment, her stomach twisted in savage hunger.

No one was outside the room. Cordelia had sent everyone away, trusting her guard to handle the worst.

That trust was her mistake.

Serena fled. She stumbled down the corridor, crashing into walls, falling hard on the marble floor again and again. But she refused to stay down, crawling, dragging herself if she had to, desperate for escape.

When she finally made it out to the landscaped path beyond the villa, her vision blurred with exhaustion and tears, she collapsed. Gravel dug into her knees, and she pressed her palms to the ground, trying to steady herself.

A pair of black leather shoes appeared in front of her.

Her ragged breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she forced her head up, and through the tears and blurred vision, she saw him.

Lucca.

Lucca stared at Ava in shock. “Ava?”

She reached out, trembling, and clutched the corner of his suit pants, her voice a faint whisper: “Help me.”

Then she collapsed, sinking into unconsciousness.

Lucca had come to Vanderbilt Manor that day at Cordelia’s invitation. The Reinaldi family’s influence was considerable, and recently his father had instructed him to stay in New York a while, to build connections with the city’s powerful families. Lucca didn’t fully understand why, but he was good at this sort of social maneuvering — and in the Reinaldi family, orders were not to be questioned.

Cordelia had hosted a lavish party the night before, following up today with a small private gathering. She had teased a “special surprise” for her guests.

Cordelia was ruthless — Lucca knew that. If Ava really had slept with a bodyguard, Cordelia meant to catch them in the act with a house full of guests as witnesses. Ava would be disgraced beyond repair, and Cordelia could call her insane for seducing a guard in her ex-husband’s parents’ villa. In front of so many people, no one would doubt Cordelia’s version.

A slow, cold fury rose in Lucca’s chest as he put the pieces together. How could they treat a woman like this?

Without hesitation, he had his men quietly change Ava’s clothes, disguising her as a drunken party guest being helped out. And in that way, Ava vanished from Vanderbilt Manor without leaving a trace behind.

Meanwhile, Cordelia was still entertaining guests in the grand hall, completely unaware.

When the time came for her grand reveal, she confidently led everyone to the guest room, expecting a scene of chaos — the perfect scandal. But the moment she opened the door, her triumphant smile vanished.

The room was empty.

Cordelia’s face fell, confusion giving way to rage. She had planned to completely destroy Ava’s reputation in these two days, then expose her identity as Elena’s daughter, ensuring everyone turned on her. But now Ava was gone. So was the bodyguard she’d planned to use as bait.

Gritting her teeth, Cordelia ordered her men to search for Ava, but no one knew where she had gone.

“You let her escape right under your noses?” Cordelia snapped, her voice sharp as broken glass.

She flung the door wide open, only to find one of the bodyguards unconscious inside, sprawled on the floor.

Meanwhile, her guests were still politely lingering at the doorway, asking curiously, “Mrs. Vanderbilt, what’s the surprise?”

Cordelia drew in a long, seething breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn’t lose face in front of so many people.

“I wanted to show everyone a painting,” she announced with an awkward laugh.

To distract them, she quickly had the staff bring out a priceless painting — the only original in existence, never before displayed in public. It was enough to match her promise of a “surprise” and quiet any suspicions.

Only Lucca, standing among the guests, truly understood the depths of Cordelia’s viciousness. If he hadn’t stepped in, what would have become of Ava? The thought turned his stomach.

His eyes turned cold, dark as the depths of a winter sea, as he regarded Cordelia from across the room. Behind his easy social mask, a sharp edge of disdain glittered.

After a few polite exchanges, Lucca slipped away, excusing himself.

When he returned to the car, Ava was already lying quietly in the back seat. He drove her back to his villa, carrying her up the grand staircase to the second floor with careful arms.

He called for one of the maids to bathe her and tend to her forehead, where a bruise was beginning to bloom. Then he summoned a doctor, who examined Ava and reported, “She’s badly frightened, but physically there’s no serious harm.”

Lucca finally let out a tight breath, relief mingling with a smoldering rage.

How could the Vanderbilt family stoop so low?

As he looked down at Ava, resting fitfully on the bed, the thought hardened in his heart — if he were truly her family, he would never let her return to that nest of vipers again.

---

Serena had been resting at Lucca’s villa for two days. When she first woke up, all she could do was stare at the ceiling, her mind hollow, as if wiped clean.

Eventually, her body reminded her of its needs, and a pang of hunger stirred her to move. But whenever she saw anything long and thin—noodles, chopsticks, even a straw—her heart would pound with terror.

The doctor had warned that she was suffering the aftershocks of extreme fear.

That pitch-dark room, meant for interrogations, was a place that could break even the hardest of criminals in three days. Serena had endured it for more than a day, locked away with snakes and centipedes crawling around her, and had somehow survived without losing her mind. That alone took terrifying strength of will.

Lucca was sitting quietly by her bed, a bowl of warm porridge in hand.

“Eat something,” he coaxed gently, placing it in front of her.

Serena took the bowl, her eyes lowered, movements wooden. Spoon after spoon, she forced the bland rice broth down, as if she were trying to remember how to be human.

Watching her like that twisted something deep inside Lucca.

It wasn’t desire—it was a raw, protective ache.

He leaned closer, voice low and frustrated. “So the Vanderbilts treat you like trash, and you don’t hate them?”

He didn’t know all the ins and outs of her entanglement with that family, but Cordelia’s furious rant had painted a picture. The whole thing was a farce, an insult to any sane mind.

Alexander had tangled up Serena’s life beyond repair, then stood by while she was chewed up and spit out.

‘Did he even look at her properly, once?’ Lucca thought bitterly. ‘If he had, he’d have known who she was a long time ago.’

But of course, Alexander Vanderbilt, almighty heir, had probably never looked beyond her surface.

Absurd. All of it, absurd.

Serena didn’t answer, simply eating in silence.

Lucca couldn’t stand it. He sat down beside her, gently took the bowl away, and pulled her into a hug. His hand moved across her thin back in soft, rhythmic pats, like comforting a child.

“If you want to cry, go ahead,” he whispered.

And at last, Serena broke.

Tears spilled from her eyes, quiet and hesitant at first, like she was afraid even her sobs might bother someone.

She hadn’t spoken a full sentence on her own in two days. Only if asked a direct question would she reply, a hollow shell of herself.

Lucca felt her trembling in his arms and sighed, holding her a little tighter.

He’d checked into her life: parents dead, education nearly derailed, a husband who ignored her for five years before discarding her like she was nothing. The heartbreak of it was enough to crush anyone.

When her tears finally ran dry, Serena pulled away and quickly wiped her cheeks, regaining her composure.

Lucca tilted his head, voice softer now. “Do you want to eat anything else?”

Serena shook her head faintly. In the past two days, she’d barely managed even porridge, and the first night she’d been so weak from hunger she’d nearly passed out.

“Mr. Reinaldi,” she rasped, her voice raw, “thank you.”

Lucca gave a small, self-mocking laugh and ruffled her hair. “I don’t want anything from you, Serena,” he reassured. “Not that.”

He worried she might think he had saved her for some twisted reason. But no—Lucca, a man who had lived a thousand shallow romances, couldn’t stomach the thought of touching someone so fragile, so wounded.

Serena searched his eyes and nodded. “I know.”

Lucca called in a servant with a tray of mild, nourishing food and handed Serena a napkin. “You’ve lost weight,” he scolded, though his tone was gentle. “Eat a bit more, okay?”

She picked up the utensils with trembling hands, as if they were made of iron. Her movements were painfully slow, but steady.

Lucca studied her profile, seeing a spark of something that reassured him.

“Serena,” he said softly, “I know you won’t let this break you.”

At his words, Serena’s grip on the spoon tightened, a new determination flickering in her hollow gaze.

Lucca relaxed slightly, but a warning still hovered on his tongue.

“The Vanderbilts hate you,” he said bluntly. “If you go back to Alexander, it’ll be hell. You know that, right?”

A faint, bitter smile tugged at Serena’s lips. Of course she knew.

No normal parents would allow their daughter to marry into a house that despised her. And she was alone, with no family to protect her.

If she fell in love with Alexander and he betrayed her, there would be no one left to catch her.

No one.

So, when Alexander had pressed her in that suffocating private room, she had refused him without hesitation.

She had only her heart left—barely intact—and she couldn’t gamble it away.

Because Alexander didn’t love her, not truly. He only loved her body.

Night fell, and Lucca’s phone buzzed with a friend urging him to join them at the bar.

He hesitated, glancing at Serena, and rattled off a list of reminders like an overprotective older brother.

“Rest here, alright? Recover first. Cordelia won’t let you off easily once she gets wind of where you are. You better have a plan—if you walk out of here without one, she’ll drag you right back.”

Serena nodded faintly, the faintest glimmer of clarity breaking through the fog in her eyes.

Alone, she could never beat the Vanderbilt family.

But she wouldn’t stay weak forever.

---

When Lucca pulled up outside the bar, he wasn’t surprised to spot Alexander already there. The air practically crackled as Lucca stepped inside, raising an eyebrow before sliding onto the leather sofa next to Alexei.

Earlier, Alexei had called Ava and gotten the news that she was holed up at Lucca’s villa. So naturally, when Lucca arrived, Alexei couldn’t help but needle him.

“Mr. Reinaldi,” Alexei began with a sly grin, “I don’t know what you told Ava, but you got her to stay at your place. Must be some sweet talk, huh?”

He was teasing, sure, but also testing Lucca’s mood. Alexei had a chaotic love life himself — hookups, flings, heartbreaks. He didn’t give a damn about a woman’s so-called purity. What drew him to Ava was her quiet strength.

Alexander, meanwhile, had come here tonight in spite of his usual distaste for social gatherings. As soon as Alexei spoke, his cold eyes shifted to Lucca, sharp as a blade.

Lucca caught on right away to Alexei’s provocation. The guy was stirring the pot, but Lucca didn’t mind. In fact, he was itching to rile Alexander up.

“If you want to call it sweet talk, sure,” Lucca answered lazily, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I told her what she needed to hear.”

Alexei’s grin faded, replaced with a hint of annoyance. “She’s been with you two days already. You trying to hide her away?”

Lucca took a slow sip of whiskey, looking unbothered. “She’s free to leave whenever she wants. Right now, she doesn’t want to.”

A hush fell over the bar. Everyone knew the twisted history between Ava and Alexander. The tension between Lucca and Alexei — with Alexander wedged in the middle — was like a lit fuse waiting to explode.

Alexander’s gaze stayed fixed on Lucca, dark and frigid. Outwardly he looked calm, but inside, a storm was brewing. He grabbed his glass and downed it in one shot — only to nearly choke as the fiery liquid burned down his throat.

Hugo, seated nearby, nearly jumped out of his chair. “Bro, that’s straight-up distilled alcohol! Who the hell told you to slam that like a shot?”

A single sip would knock a grown man on his ass. Alexander had gulped down half the glass in a single go.

Alexei and Lucca kept trading words, fueling Alexander’s simmering rage.

“Mr. Reinaldi,” Alexei warned, “don’t screw with Ava. She’s been through enough — she can’t handle another betrayal.”

Lucca shot him a sharp look. “Why would you say that?”

Alexei leaned forward. “She’s already broken by one failed marriage. You think she’ll trust a guy like you?”

Lucca fell silent for a beat, then sighed. “You think I’m playing with her? Seeing her stuck in bed these past few days… it’s hard to watch.”

He meant it sincerely, but to everyone else, it sounded filthy.

Alexander snapped. He lunged forward and grabbed Lucca’s collar. “Did you sleep with her?”

The entire bar went dead silent. On one side stood a Reinaldi — Italian nobility, practically — and on the other, the heir to New York’s Vanderbilt empire. Nobody dared intervene. Only Hugo and Alexei stayed put, tense as a drawn wire.

Lucca stayed seated, eyes hard. “Let go,” he bit out, fury coiling inside him. If he hadn’t taken Ava away that day, who knew what might have happened to her? And now Alexander dared act like this?

Hugo broke into a cold sweat. If these two really threw down, New York’s social scene would implode. The Reinaldis and Vanderbilts going to war over a woman? That was a nightmare scenario.

“Xander, cool it,” Hugo urged, reaching out — but too late.

Alexander slugged Lucca in the face, sending a spatter of blood from his split lip.

Lucca’s eyes went wide. “You bastard!”

He lashed out, kicking Alexander square in the stomach, and chaos erupted. Drinks spilled, glasses shattered, and the entire bar scrambled out of the way.

Alexander, usually the embodiment of cold, quiet power, was unrecognizable — wild, vicious, trading blows with Lucca like a street brawler.

Alexei stood frozen in shock. He’d never seen Alexander lose it like this. Hugo was frantic, yelling, “Don’t just stand there! Alexei, grab Lucca — I’ll get Xander!”

If the family heads heard about this brawl, the fallout would be nuclear.

Alexei lunged for Lucca, while Hugo wrestled Alexander back, but neither man gave an inch. Blood smeared their clothes; rage practically vibrated in the air.

Even restrained, Alexander’s eyes locked on Lucca with a predator’s intensity.

Lucca, seeing the blood on his lip, was beyond furious. Only his father and brother had ever hit him in his life — no one else dared. And Alexander? He was going to pay.

In a flash, Lucca grabbed a wineglass and hurled it at Alexander. Alexander batted it aside, glass shattering into a glittering spray.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Alexander snarled, voice deathly calm. “Did you sleep with her?”

Lucca wiped the blood from his mouth. “None of your damn business.”

Alexander’s eyes darkened. He snatched up a fruit knife from the table and flicked it with pinpoint precision, grazing Lucca’s ear.

A thin line of blood appeared, and Lucca’s eyes went wide. Alexei, behind him, jumped back in shock.

“Xander, what the hell? You trying to kill him?!” Alexei shouted.

Things were spiraling fast, so Hugo, desperate, snuck out his phone and called Ava.

“Ava,” he whispered into the receiver, “get to Broadway Bar — private room upstairs. Alexander and Lucca are about to kill each other over you!”

By the time Hugo finished the call, Alexander had broken free and charged at Lucca again.

Lucca flipped the coffee table aside, smashing glasses in every direction. “Come at me, you Vanderbilt piece of shit! You think I’m scared of you?!”

Alexander grabbed his collar again, voice cold enough to freeze bone. “You think I care what you’re scared of?”

The two were seconds from tearing into each other again when Ava arrived.

The corridor outside the private room was jammed with onlookers, their faces pale with dread. When they spotted Ava, relief washed over them like a tidal wave.

“Ava, hurry! Lucca and Alexander are going to kill each other!” someone pleaded.

Ava’s heart sank. Without hesitation, she pushed the door open — ready to face the chaos inside.