Chapter 12: unexpected

Serena’s pov

Hours later, refreshed, immaculate, and armed with absolute destruction in my hand, I march down the grand corridor of the mansion directly toward my father's private office.

I push the heavy double doors open without knocking, a triumphant grin spreading across my face as I take in the sight of Theodore Carrington sitting behind his desk and his youthful fiancée sitting in his laps.

"Look at that," I purr with sarcasm, stepping into the room. "The picture-perfect couple. How sweet, I think I might actually vomit."

"Serena, you should really try getting onboard with this," my father says with a weary, irritated sigh, rubbing his temples as he looks up at me. "It’s getting a little tiring, don't you think?"

"Oh no, Theodore, please don't be harsh with her," Angela chimes in, putting on her absolute best innocent-saint routine as she glides around the room toward me. "I would really love for Serena to always feel free in saying her mind around me." She stops directly in front of me, her hand reaching out to capture mine in a soft squeeze. "Look, Serena, you’re such an important, vital part of Theodore’s life, and maybe if we just spend some time together getting to know one another, I just know we could be great friends."

I stare down at her hand resting on mine as if a venomous toad has just landed on my skin and pull my arm back, shaking my fingers with disgust.

"Ughhh, I feel like the actual devil touched me. Seriously. How do you endure her touch?" I spit out, my tone so icy and rude it causes her to recoil as I brush past her toward my father's desk. "Well, Daddy dearest, it turns out your little sweet angel test subject just met up with her boyfriend."

With a dramatic flourish, I slam the pictures onto his leather desk pad, crossing my arms over my chest with a triumphant smirk.

I watch with satisfaction as color drains from Angela’s face the second her eyes land on the images, her lips opening in shock.

This is going to be ten times better than I even imagined, because my father will inevitably throw this lying twat out on her ear by nightfall and hand me back my rightful executive position, putting an end to this absurd circus once and for all.

But as the seconds tick by, the explosive rage I expect to see consume my father's face never actually comes, leaving me frowning in confusion. Theodore simply flips through the damning evidence with a cold, unbothered expression, dropping the stack back onto his desk before leaning back comfortably in his chair.

I raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Why isn’t he throwing the demon out?

"Theodore, please, I can explain them!" Angela stammers out in a frantic, desperate rush, stepping toward him with tears welling up in her eyes. "I just—it isn’t what it looks like, I swear—"

"I already know about him," Theodore interrupts. "And I believe she was simply saying her final, proper goodbye before our wedding."

Wait, what?

My mouth opens in absolute disbelief as I stare at my father. "You can’t seriously be that blind and gullible! What kind of goodbye is she saying with a man’s tongue down her throat? Open your eyes, Dad! She is obviously here for your money and your name, and the very second she gets that, she will leave you just like every other pathetic woman in your past!"

I genuinely can’t believe what is unfolding right in front of me as I stare at the formidable patriarch who built a multi-billion-dollar empire suddenly acting like a brainwashed fool for a girl half his age.

"Keep the emotional advice for someone who actually needs it, Serena. And how about you stay out of my personal life and concentrate on your own," my father growls. "Maybe if you leave all this childish, teenager behavior behind, you will actually see the very obvious reason why you aren't ready for the COO position."

"Oh, I have been ready for that seat since the moment I stood on my own two feet!" I yell back, slamming both of my hands onto his desk as I lean over to glare directly into his stubborn face. "You’re just terrified that I’m smarter, sharper, and better at running this dynasty than you will ever be!"

Theodore snaps, rising out of his chair with a violent surge of movement that sends the photographs scattering across the floor. "I taught you every single thing you know!" he growls, his chest heaving as his face turns a dangerous shade of red. "You really think you're better than me? Ha! That is hysterical coming from a child playing dress-up!"

"Okay, please, just calm down, darling," Angela interjects, floating right back to his side and placing a gentle, soothing hand over his chest. "Just try and see where Serena is coming from, Theodore. Maybe if the two of you just took the time to talk, you would realize how remarkably similar you two actually are."

I turn my deadliest, most lethal glare straight onto her, every nerve in my body screaming in absolute fury—who the actual fuck does this little manipulative parasite think she is, playing mediator in a Carrington family war?

"See that?" Theodore says, looking down at her with sickly fondness before locking his eyes back onto mine. "You just tried to sabotage her, and yet she isn't holding a single shred of it against you. She is perfect." He leans down and kisses her forehead tenderly, turning back to me. "You could try doing the civilized thing for once in your life and apologize to her."

"You can’t be serious," I laugh. "I would rather lick dust off this floor before I apologize to your slut of the month!"

"If you call her that one more—"

The heavy doors barges open and we all spin around to face the intruder. I watch as my Everette marches into the study, completely ignoring us and heads straight for the crystal decanter on the bar cart, pouring a glass of dark scotch with trembling hands, and drowning it in one gulp.

He looks completely unraveled, his hair slightly disheveled, his jaw tightly locked, and his shoulders so tense. I have seen my brother at his absolute worst, and this isn’t it, but I know something happened.

"Eve... are you alright?" I ask softly.

He ignores my question, pouring a second overflowing glass of scotch and drowning it just as as the first. He then sets the empty glass down and turns toward us, his eyes going to our father.

"Dad, please tell me you didn't just pimp me out so you can get your damn oil fields?" he finally says.