3. William Serrano

Destiny POV

I woke to sunlight streaming through a crack in the window. The sheets were so soft and the bed so comfortable and fragrant that I wanted to sleep more, but a wave of unease hit me. I didn’t recognize this place.

I found myself in a large room with industrial decor: gray and earthy tones, jazz-rock posters on the walls, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a large window tilted open, and a brick wall lined with shelves packed with vinyl records.

You could tell the owner had a thing for music—and cigarettes, too, judging by the faint smoky scent mixed with a comforting, woody cologne.

I got up, confused, trying to piece together what was happening. I remembered getting hit by a car and passing out last night. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital or something, not in a place I’d never seen before.

The door opened, and a man walked in carrying a tray that looked like breakfast. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said cheerfully, as if having a strange woman wake up in his bed was the most natural thing in the world.

He was tall and handsome, with dark brown hair parted in the middle, falling in waves to his neck. He wore a fitted shirt and sweatpants, his right arm tattooed, and the smile on his face felt so natural I wondered if he somehow knew me from somewhere. “I brought you breakfast. Hope you like pancakes with honey and banana.”

“Who the hell are you?” I asked bluntly. What? Had I been kidnapped or something?

“Oh, right,” he stammered, setting the tray on the nightstand by the bed. “My name’s William Serrano. I know you must be confused, and I’m sorry about that. But, well, I hit you with my car last night. Actually, you kind of threw yourself in front of it out of nowhere, so it’s kind of your fault, you know.

I took you to the hospital, and the doctor said you just needed a good night’s sleep. Since I didn’t know where you lived, I brought you to my place.” He shrugged, hands in his pockets.

Oh, sure. My life was so hectic I barely had time to sleep properly, so with all the emotional exhaustion from yesterday, it made sense that I’d blacked out. Thinking about yesterday brought back Ronan’s betrayal, sharp as a knife in my back.

The image of him with that tramp of a mistress on his lap, kissing her, flashed through my mind, making me recoil in disgust. I wanted it to be a damn nightmare, but I was too grounded to pretend it wasn’t real.

“You okay?” William Serrano asked, noticing my sudden silence. “I’m just asking because, you know, I feel responsible for the accident,” he shrugged again, his accent gave away that he wasn’t American.

“So you almost kill me and then kidnap me? What’s next? Slit my stomach open and sell my organs on the black market?” I accused, my face twisted in displeasure.

“What? I was just trying to help…” he stammered, shocked by my words.

“Spare me your fake human decency. I know your type,” I said, throwing the covers aside to get up. "You probably want some sex, you want to take advantage of me. But I swear I will kill you if you try it," I threatened him.

Thank God I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but was the sexy red dress I’d picked out for my celebration with my husband… Anger surged through me when I remembered that.

“I wouldn’t get up so fast if I were you—” he said cautiously, but I was already on my feet, only to nearly collapse as dizziness hit me. His arms caught my waist, saving me from falling. His eyes were the same as last night—dark and deep, like they could see into my soul.

“You should probably eat that breakfast,” he murmured, his face inches from mine. Why was he staring at me like that?

“What do you think this is, some cheap commercial? What’s your editing team gonna do next? Throw roses around us to show how in love we are? Get your damn hands off me!” I demanded.

His eyes widened at my words, so surprised that he actually let go, and I fell—thankfully onto the bed.

“Oh, God… sorry!” He tried to help me.

I slapped his hand away. “Back off, damn it!” I scrambled out of there. I had things to deal with.

His house was big, with the same modern industrial vibe as the bedroom, but I didn’t have time to gawk. I needed to get to my apartment and fix my life, which was falling apart.

When I opened the front door, the cold air hit my bare arms and back, my feet still shoeless. I was in a fancy residential area of Manhattan, probably the Upper East Side.

“Hey, wait,” the man called from behind me. “You forgot your shoes.” He held them up. I snatched them from his hand and slipped them on quickly, not saying a word. “Look, if you want, I can give you a ride to wherever you’re going,” he offered, hands back in his pockets.

I looked at him, weighing my options. “Yeah, well, you kind of owe me that for almost killing me,” I said rudely.

Moments later, I was in William Serrano’s car, sitting in silence, trying to figure out what might’ve happened while I was out. It was almost afternoon, meaning I’d woken up late.

Would I make it in time to have one last talk with Ronan, maybe to throw it in his face that I didn’t need the pity money he was offering as compensation for all those years I wiped his ass? For all the years I stood by him, making him shine like never before? I wanted to scream at him that without me, he’d literally be dead.

But the idiot next to me kept interrupting my thoughts of revenge against my husband. “So, you’re not gonna tell me your name, or is that still gonna be a mystery between us?” he teased with a chuckle.

“Just drive, preferably in silence,” I snapped, trying to ignore my throbbing headache.

“You know what? You’re by far the most unique person I’ve ever met. I mean, are all New York women like this? In no time, you’ve accused me of trying to kill you or take advantage of you. I’m wondering what your next accusation will be.” He was complaining, but I couldn’t care less.

“Stop the car!” I ordered.

“Here? Let me at least get past the crosswalk…” But I was already opening the door of the moving car, forcing him to stop. “Alright, alright, calm down! Jeez!” He pulled over, and I jumped out, disappearing among the parked cars without looking back.

It was the building where my apartment was. I ran to the elevator, my high heels clicking against the hardwood floor. As the elevator rose, my heart pounded hard and unevenly.

There was something I didn’t want to admit, but deep down, a part of me screamed, begging for Ronan to want me back—a desperate urge to fall to my knees and plead for him to take me back. Without him, I didn’t know what I’d do with my life.

I mean, before he came into my life, all I wanted was to die. Had I really gone back to square one? I caught my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall: my red satin dress stained with dirt from the accident, a Band-Aid over my left eyebrow, my chin scraped, my big hazel eyes looking lost, directionless.

I was so broken.

But I pressed on. When I reached the hallway to my apartment, there was Ronan, standing at the door, talking to the landlord. Beside him was that tramp, Andrea Watson, her arms wrapped around his elbow.

In that moment, all the energy that had carried me here abandoned me, leaving me defenseless. But Ronan saw me.

“Destiny?” He approached. “Where have you been? I was very clear when I told you to pack your bags and leave before the landlord came for the keys,” he said, his tone scolding.

“I-I had an accident, Ronan. I almost died…” I said. Sure, the accident wasn’t that serious, but I felt the need to exaggerate.

“Really?” Ronan frowned.

“She’s standing, so it wasn’t a big deal,” Andrea Watson said, her irritating voice utterly detestable.

“The doctor said I need to take care of myself, Ronan…” I insisted, my voice small, a heavy tear rolling down my cheek.

“Oh, Destiny…” He seemed moved—I knew he was.

“We already packed her bags, Ron. Don’t forget we have a flight at 5,” his mistress reminded him.

“Yeah, I know, but…” Ronan stammered, unable to just leave me like this. Maybe he’d change his mind and stay for me. But then his eyes locked on the man behind me.

“Everything okay here?” It was that guy, William Serrano, who seemed to have followed me.

“Who’s he?” Ronan asked me. “Oh, you know what? Thanks for taking that huge guilt off my shoulders, Destiny, really. Good to know I wasn’t the only one fed up with this marriage, since you went off to have fun with another guy at the first chance you got.”

“What? No, you’re wrong… I don’t even know him!” I was screaming through my tears.

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever. I want you to forget me and live your life, honestly. Because I’m going to enjoy this new phase of mine,” he said, then took Andrea Watson’s hand, and they walked away, Andrea throwing me a final victorious glance, as if to say, “He’s mine now, loser.”

“Ronan, no…” I was sobbing uncontrollably, too weak to move.

“Man, you’re gonna need some hydration,” William Serrano said, wrapping his arms around me, offering the comfort my aching soul desperately needed.

“Why the hell are you following me? Why don’t you just leave me alone?” I mumbled, my words slurred through my tears, my hatred for him beyond words.

"Because I need to take care of you, have you forgotten?" He replied like he'd made some kind of vow to me, like he owed me something.

I glared at him, tears blurring my vision. "Why the fuck?"

He looked into my eyes again, sincere. “Because you’re pregnant,” he said.