5; The Mistress

Serelyn’s POV

When I returned home that afternoon, Lysenna was already waiting at my door. For a moment, I simply stood there. She was wearing a cream-colored dress beneath a long coat, one hand resting over the small curve of her stomach. 

Her eyes were red, and tears had already gathered along her lashes. The sight dragged an old memory out of me.

In my first life, Lysenna had cried exactly like this whenever she needed something. A trembling lip. Wet eyes. A soft voice. And somehow, Darian always ended up blaming me. She looked up when she heard my footsteps.

“Serelyn.”

I unlocked the door, “What are you doing here?”

Her lower lip trembled.

“I came to apologize.”

I glanced at her stomach. Then back at her face.

“Come inside.”

She looked surprised. I stepped aside. Not because I forgave her. I wanted to hear what story she had come prepared to tell. Lysenna walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the sofa. I remained standing. She wiped beneath one eye.

“I know you probably hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Her eyes lifted, “You don’t?”

“No.”

I took off my coat and placed it over a chair.

“I simply don’t trust you.”

She swallowed.

“I never wanted this to happen.”

“What exactly?”

“Your marriage.”

I almost smiled. She lowered her head, “Darian pursued me.”

There it was. The same lie, polished differently.

“I tried to stay away,” she continued. “I knew you were his wife. I knew it was wrong. But he kept telling me that your marriage was already broken.”

I said nothing.

“He told me you barely spoke anymore. That you hadn’t been close for a long time.”

I walked toward the kitchen, “Would you like some water?”

She blinked, “No, thank you.”

I poured myself a glass anyway.

Lysenna watched me, “I really am sorry, Serelyn.”

I took a sip, “You’ve said that.”

“I know.”

She twisted her fingers together, “I never meant to hurt you.”

I looked at her, “Then why are you here?”

Her eyes dropped to her stomach, “I’m pregnant.”

“I know.”

She looked up sharply.

“You knew?”

“Darian told me.”

A flash of surprise crossed her face before she quickly lowered her eyes, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I leaned against the counter, “You could start by making your own decisions.”

She gave a small, nervous laugh.

“I don’t want Darian’s money.”

That almost made me laugh for real. She continued quickly.

“I don’t. I only want my baby to have a father.”

“You already have one.”

Her expression tightened.

“I mean a father who is present.”

I stared at her.

She had come here to rehearse. Every sentence was carefully softened. Every tear appeared at exactly the right moment. Then she finally said what she had actually come for.

“I think you should divorce him.”

The room became very quiet. Lysenna rushed to explain.

“I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want a messy situation. If you leave quietly, everything will be easier.”

“For whom?”

“For everyone.”

“Everyone except me.”

She looked uncomfortable, “I know this is difficult.”

“No.”

I set my glass down, “It isn’t.”

Her brows drew together.

I smiled.

“Congratulations.”

She stared at me, “What?”

“Congratulations on the baby.”

Her mouth opened slightly.

“I mean it.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Should I be?”

She looked at me as though she couldn’t understand what she was seeing. I walked toward the sofa and sat opposite her.

“You wanted my husband.”

I met her eyes, “You can have him.”

The tears stopped completely. For one brief second, her expression was nakedly startled. Then she recovered.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

A small smile appeared on her lips. I watched it carefully.

“But don’t confuse getting him with getting what belongs to me.”

The smile disappeared, “What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out.”

She shifted in her seat. Then she looked at me more carefully.

“You’ve changed.”

“People do.”

Her gaze dropped to my hands. Then she froze. It was only for a second. But I noticed. Her eyes had landed on the silver ring around my finger. She stared at it.

“Where did you get that?”

My fingers curled slightly, “Why?”

“I’ve seen something similar before.”

“Where?”

She hesitated, “Nowhere. I just thought…”

She stopped. I watched her face. She forced a laugh.

“Forget it.”

“No.”

I leaned forward.

“Why do you know that ring?”

Her expression changed again. This time, something colder slipped through.

“Your grandmother really should have told you what she left behind.”

My body went still, “What did you say?”

Lysenna stood, “I should go.”

I rose immediately, “How do you know about my grandmother?”

She picked up her handbag, “I know more than you think.”

“Lysenna.”

She walked toward the door.

I followed, “You’ve never met my grandmother.”

“I didn’t say I had.”

“Then how do you know what she left me?”

She placed her hand on the doorknob, “You should enjoy these next few weeks, Serelyn.”

I stared at her. She turned. Her hand settled over her stomach.

“Some things are going to disappear very soon.”

Then she walked out.The door closed behind her. I stood there, staring at it. Her words repeated in my head.

Your grandmother really should have told you what she left behind.

I had never mentioned my grandmother to Lysenna. Not once. And there was something else. The way she had looked at the ring. That hadn’t been curiosity. She recognized it. I locked the door. Then I went upstairs.

The house was silent by the time I reached my bedroom. I removed the ring and held it beneath the lamp. The silver looked ordinary. It wasn’t. Not anymore. I returned to the spatial chamber. The moment I stepped inside, the familiar empty space greeted me. I touched the wall.

“Show me.”

Nothing happened. I placed my palm against the smooth surface.

“This belonged to my grandmother.”

Still nothing. Then I remembered Lysenna’s words. I slowly pressed the ring against the wall. A sound clicked inside the chamber. I stepped back. A thin line appeared across the wall. My breath caught.

The section slid open. Behind it was a narrow compartment I had never seen before.Inside sat a single metal box. No lock. No key. I reached for it. My fingers trembled slightly as I lifted the lid.

There was a photograph inside. I picked it up. An elderly woman stood in the picture, younger than I remembered her. My grandmother.

She was smiling. But she wasn’t alone. A man stood beside her. A much younger man. I stared at his face.

I knew him. Kaeldric Vane. My eyes dropped to the writing on the back of the photograph. Seven words. Seven words that made every hair on my arms rise.

When the end comes, trust no one except him.

I stared at Kaeldric’s face again.

Why had my grandmother known him?

And why had she written his name into a warning about the end?