Chapter 4

The cold bedroom floor felt like it pierced straight into her bones, yet that pain was nothing compared to the emptiness now hollowing out Serena’s womb. In the suffocating silence of the night, she knelt at the edge of the bed, clutching her stomach that now felt so unbearably vacant. Just a few hours ago, amid the chaos and the crushing mental pressure from Emely and Dewangga, her body had finally given in. She lost her baby—her second child, the one she had hoped would secure her place in this house.

The bleeding had stopped, but the wound in her soul had only just been torn wide open.

“Mom… are you hurting?”

The faint whisper broke the silence. Clarisa, her eyes swollen and her hair disheveled, crawled closer. Her tiny trembling hand carefully touched Serena’s arm, as if afraid her mother might shatter with even the slightest pressure.

Serena flinched. Quickly, she wiped away the tears that had soaked her flushed cheeks, still marked from the slap earlier. She forced a smile, even though her lips were pale and her body trembled from the pain of the miscarriage she had endured alone in the bathroom—without medical help, without her husband’s embrace.

“No, sweetheart… Mommy’s not hurting,” Serena whispered, her voice hoarse, almost gone.

But her tears refused to cooperate. They fell again, landing on the back of Clarisa’s hand. The lie was too fragile to hide the truth—Serena was completely shattered. She had just lost her baby, and when she tried to tell Dewangga through a message earlier, his reply had cut sharper than any blade:

“Maybe it’s your punishment for trying to hurt Vanes. I don’t need a child from a vengeful woman like you.”

Clarisa looked at her mother with eyes far too mature for her age. She saw her mother’s pale face, the lifeless gaze, and she felt the sorrow filling the room.

“Mom… let’s just leave this house,” Clarisa said suddenly. Her voice was firmer now, though soft sobs still lingered within it. “I don’t want to see Dad hurt you anymore. I don’t need dolls, I don’t need this big house. I just want you.”

Serena froze. Those words came from a five-year-old she had always thought didn’t understand anything. Clarisa wrapped her arms tightly around Serena’s neck, hiding her face in the crook of her mother’s shoulder.

“Dad is mean. Grandma is mean. Aunt Vanes is mean too. Let’s go, Mom. Let’s go somewhere far away… where no one makes you cry anymore.”

Serena shut her eyes tightly. Every word Clarisa spoke struck her like a blow to her conscience. All this time, she had endured everything because she believed she was fighting for Clarisa’s future. She thought her daughter needed a father, needed the prestigious Nasution family name. But instead, she had allowed her child to grow up in a minefield filled with hatred and humiliation.

Suddenly, the bedroom door was kicked open.

Dewangga stood there, still wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A faint smell of alcohol lingered on him, proof that he had just been celebrating Vanes’s “good news” downstairs with his mother.

“Still not asleep?” he asked mockingly as he stepped inside, ignoring the heavy grief filling the room. “I heard from Mother that you’ve been locking yourself in since this afternoon. Don’t try to gain sympathy by pretending to be depressed, Serena. Your miscarriage is just proof that you’re not fit to be a mother.”

Serena looked up. The pain in her stomach was suddenly replaced by a cold, burning anger. “Dewangga, I just lost your child. Our child. And you come here just to insult me?”

Dewangga let out a dry laugh, a sound that disgusted her to the core. “Our child? Are you sure it was mine? Considering how close you were with Haris Nasution at the hospital yesterday, I’m not even sure that failed fetus was my flesh and blood.”

Slap!

With the last of her strength, Serena stood and struck him across the face. Her hand trembled, her chest rising and falling with the surge of her fury. “Enough! You can insult me, you can ignore me, but don’t you dare insult a life that never even got the chance to see this world!”

Dewangga held his cheek, his eyes blazing. He grabbed Serena’s jaw tightly, forcing her to look into his hatred-filled gaze. “You dare hit me? In my house? Have you forgotten who feeds you?”

“Dad, let go of Mom! You’re mean!” Clarisa cried, hitting Dewangga’s leg with her tiny hands, trying to defend her mother.

Dewangga shoved her aside, sending the little girl crashing to the floor. “Shut up, useless child! Get into the bathroom, or I’ll lock you in the storage room!”

Seeing her daughter treated that way, something inside Serena finally broke. All her fear, all the love she had left for Dewangga, vanished completely. She pushed him with all the strength she had, making him stumble backward.

Serena quickly pulled Clarisa into her arms and helped her up. Then she looked at Dewangga with the coldest gaze she had ever worn—the gaze of a powerful producer canceling the worst contract of her life.

“You’re right, Clarisa,” Serena whispered, never taking her eyes off Dewangga. “We’re leaving.”

“What? You’re leaving?” Dewangga scoffed. “Go ahead! Leave! Let’s see if you can survive without a single penny from me. Do you think your name as a producer still means anything after disappearing for seven years? You’re outdated, Serena!”

Serena said nothing. She grabbed the small bag she had hidden under the bed—a bag filled with important documents she had kept away from Emely. She held Clarisa’s hand tightly.

“I may be ‘outdated’ in your eyes, Dewangga,” she said calmly. “But remember this… when I return, I’ll make sure you and your precious first love will be begging at my feet for even the smallest role in the tragedy of your own downfall.”

She walked past him without looking back. She didn’t need the expensive clothes or jewelry he had given her. All she needed was Clarisa—and the dignity she had just reclaimed.

As they descended the stairs, Emely and Vanes stood there with mocking smiles.

“Oh, the drama queen is finally leaving?” Emely sneered, sipping her tea. “Good. This house will finally be free of parasites.”

Vanes only smiled faintly, stroking her still-flat stomach. “Be careful on the road, Sister Serena. Don’t faint on the street.”

Serena paused at the grand door. She turned slightly toward them, offering a smile that sent a chill down Vanes’s spine. “Enjoy your temporary victory, Vanes. Because the real story has only just begun.”

She stepped out into the dark night, beneath the light drizzle that had begun to fall. She didn’t know where she was going, but one thing was certain—she had Clarisa, and she had a talent that Dewangga could never take away from her.

In the distance, the headlights of a luxury car approached, and Serena knew—Haris Nasution would never let his greatest rival fall so easily.

“Mom, where are we going?” Clarisa asked, tightening her grip.

Serena kissed her hand gently. “We’re going home… to a place where Mommy is a queen, sweetheart. Not a slave.”