CHAPTER 2

Serena's POV

I stayed at the dining table for a long time after Vanessa's laughing stopped and the glasses stopped clinking. Even though my body was here, my soul was already somewhere else, hovering just above me like smoke.

I knew something had changed inside me by the time I pushed my chair back. A crack that had run through me for years finally split open, sharp and deep. Even though I told myself I could still breathe, it felt like I was breathing through glass.

But the wound got deeper two nights after.

A gala took place at one of the city's most luxurious hotels. Chandeliers lit up the ballroom, which was filled with music and money. The carpet under my heels was red and thick, but it felt like sand slipping away with each step I took. As we walked in, Damian didn't look at me. His hand lightly rested on the small of my back. To the cameras, this might have looked like care, but to me, it felt like control—a pressure, not a touch.

I stayed behind him one step. I always did.

Then she showed up.

Vanessa.

Her hair gleamed in the lights, and her red dress stuck to her like fire. When she saw Damian, her lips parted into a smile so bright it hurt my eyes. Seeing her, he removed his hand from my back to her waist right away. The shift was so casual, so practiced that I wondered if he even realized he’d done it.

My breath caught. There were a lot of photographers, and flashes went off like lightning. I stood there, like a shadow blurred in the background, while Damian and Vanessa stood arm in arm. They looked like the perfect pair.

I told myself not to flinch. Not here. Not in front of them.

The crowd closed in, circling Damian as if he were the sun and they were planets in orbit. However, their welcomes, praise, and sneaky compliments were not for me. Not even once.

A man raised his glass toward Vanessa and said, "This must be your wife."

Something inside me twisted so hard that I felt sick. I opened my mouth, the word no trembling on my lips, but before I could speak, Damian's voice cut through mine.

“This is Vanessa Crowne,” he said, his hand tightening around her waist. His tone was warm, his lips curving with that rare smile. “She’s the one who truly supports me.”

The words echoed, heavy and final.

Someone in the crowd raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding toward me. “And what about her?” he asked, chin tilting in my direction.

Dozens of eyes turned toward me. My skin burned under their stares, my palms damp. For the first time that evening, Damian’s gaze followed theirs, landing on me like a blade. His gray eyes were flat and didn't show any anger.

“She’s just a stand-in,” he said.

The silence that followed was louder than the music. Then came the laughter, polite but sharp, like glass breaking underfoot. Some people tried to hide their smirks. While others didn’t bother.

A stand-in

Not even a partner.

Just a seat-filler for his ex-girlfriend.

I stood still, the floor shaking under me. My fingers curled into my palm, nails biting my skin until I felt the sting of blood.

The rest of the night was hard to make out. I saw Vanessa put her hand on his chest, her lips brushing his ear, the way his body bent toward her as if he was pulled by gravity. I could hear the music getting louder and the laughter reverberating through the ballroom. But none of it moved me. I was like glass, breaking and cracking.

The cold night air hit my face as I sneaked out of a side door. I felt smaller than I ever had even though the city stretched wide and bright in front of me. I wanted to scream, but my voice was buried too deep.

When Damian came home later, I was waiting.

His office smelled like leather and power. Walls were lined with shelves of books that had not been read and looked like trophies. The desk shone under the dim light, and on it were the papers I had signed hours earlier. My hands had shaken when I signed them, but my signature was clear.

Divorce.

Damian walked in with his tie loosened and jacket slung over his shoulder. I could still smell Vanessa's perfume on his skin and clothes from afar, as if she were already a part of him. His steps slowed when he saw me. He looked at the papers for a moment and then back at me.

"What is this?" His voice was dull, but there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his lips.

I stood straight, even though my knees trembled. “Divorce papers.”

Silence. Then he let out a low, sharp laugh that split the air in two. He moved closer and leaned against the edge of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.His eyes ran over me, cold and dismissive

“Do you really think you can just leave?" His voice was smooth and dangerous. “You? The woman I gave a name, a house, a life?”

I squeezed the bottom of my dress with my fingers, but I kept my eyes on him “I’m done, Damian. I won’t be your stand in anymore.”

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened. He straightened, towering over me, his voice dropping to a sneer. “You’ll regret this. You’ll crawl back. Women like you always do.”

Something inside me broke, not out of fear but because I was free. After three years, the chain I had been wearing finally broke.

“No," I said in a steady, quiet voice. "I won't.”

For the first time in three years, I turned my back on him.

And I walked away.

The hallway stretched long and silent. The marble floor rang with the sound of my steady, sharp steps. With each step, I got farther away from him and the weight that had been crushing me for so long. My chest ached, my eyes burned, but my spine was straighter than it had ever been.

I had no family to run to. No friends waiting for me. No safe place to go.

But I had my dignity.

And I would not let him take that too.

I got to the front door with my bag already packed and ready to go. My hand wrapped around the handle. For a moment, I hesitated, the life I was leaving pressing against me like a wall.

Then, I opened it and walked out into the night.

The cold, sharp air of the city rushed around me, bringing hints of a future I couldn't see yet. My body trembled, my heart raced, but I kept walking.

Because somewhere deep inside, I knew this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.