(Serena)Ronan’s hands are still on my hips when I see him.James.Standing at the edge of the dance floor like a thundercloud in expensive denim, scotch in hand, fury written all over his face.His eyes are locked on me like I’m the only thing in the room, like he’s not sure whether he wants to pull me close or set the whole place on fire.For a moment, I freeze.I forget the beat. Forget the music. Forget the crowd pulsing around us.All I see is him.And I almost go to him.Almost push past Ronan and explain everything, it’s just dancing, that I understand a media beat up, that Savannah and Margot set him up, that I believe him.But then I see it.The accusation in his eyes. The judgment. He’s on a damn floor, in front of a fire, alone with savannah…. Let’s her kiss him, and he’s mad at me?!Like he’s the one who was wronged. Like I did something unspeakable by being here, by living, by dancing, by breathing in a world that doesn’t orbit him.The fury on his face sucks the air from
(James)Mother has left.I’m here feeling like a big pile of dogshit.How can I have millions of dollars in the bank and still feel so fucking miserable?I can literally do anything I want. But I can’t buy Serena’s love. Or her respect. I can’t force her to want to be with me.There’s something else though, something darker lurking in the back of my mind. Something I’d chosen to forget.But now the memory seeps back into existence. I can’t pack it away again.I hate it. I hate what it means. I hate who it makes my father. That I’m his blood.If I walk away from Hale Industries now, he does win.He gets to say…I told that you’d never be good enough. You are worthless, your mother is worthless.I remember the shoes.Shiny black ones. I hated them because they pinched, but Mom said I had to wear them for my recital.I was sitting on the edge of the stairs, tying the laces the way the nanny showed me.And then I hear it. A loud thump. Something glass shattering.Then a sound like… someon
(Margot)I can feel this is working. So I keep telling him the ugly truth. “You don’t remember the way he threatened to cut us off if I didn’t keep up appearances in public. But I remember. Every moment.”I watch him pace. He’s furious. About Savannah, about the media, about the kiss. About me being here at all.I will not let the empire I built from my pain be taken from me.Still, when I speak, it’s not with fire. It’s with something calmer. Deeper. The tone a mother uses to soothe her child like no one else can.“You think I enjoy this?” I say softly. “You think I like playing the villain in your story, James?”He doesn’t look at me, just runs a hand through his hair, jaw clenched so tight it might snap.I press my hands together in my lap. Composed. But my fingers betray me, twitching against each other. I don’t have to pretend. This is real.“I know what you think of me. You always have. Cold. Controlling. The one who cared more about appearances than feelings. You hate me.”“I
(Margot)The images came through a few hours ago so I know Serena has them too.That was the arrangement. Savannah thinks she is in control of this, but that media contact I gave her has been mine for many years.An hour ago I gave the okay for the pictures to be released to the world.No caption. No context needed.They’re unmistakable, Savannah and James, firelight, the moment before their lips met, and then the kiss itself. Five perfect frames that do all the heavy lifting.She finally got the job done. I bet he isn’t happy about it either. But I’ll calm him down. I always do.I smile and get my purse. It’s time I rounded up my wayward child and got him back on track. And while I’m at it, I’ll work on a Serena scandal to nail it down.The media outlets will swarm over these pictures.I check in quickly on my cell phone.Headlines pivot in real-time:“Hale Heir and Ex-Fiancée Rekindle Romance.”“The Prince Returns to His First Love… Where’s Serena?”“Savannah Blake: Hale Royalty A
(Serena)My message tone sounds.No name. No subject line. Just five images.Five perfectly timed, perfectly damning frames.I flick through them and my gut churns.The first shows the two of them lying on some old blanket, fire in the background.James relaxed, too close. Savannah’s hand propped under her chin, her eyes fixed on him.The second photo… she’s leaning in.Third… he’s not pulling away.Fourth… their mouths meet.Fifth… he’s still there.I don’t know how long I stare at them.My sisters keep talking around me, laughing about Haylee’s latest app date who apparently owned four reptiles and zero sheets.I hear it all distantly. Like I’m behind glass.Then Erin says, “Serena?”“What?”“You look like you saw a ghost,” Marcy adds, halfway off the couch already. “What are you staring at?”Haylee grabs my phone before I can stop her. “Whoa, okay, uh—”Her eyes scan the screen. Her expression shifts from confusion to fury. “Are you freaking kidding me?”She hands it off to Marcy a
(James)Her lips are soft. Familiar.It takes a single breath for my brain to catch up to the mistake.For the truth to slam through the fog of nostalgia like a freight train.I jerk back like I’ve been burned. “What the hell are you doing?”Savannah’s eyes flutter open, her expression flickering from triumphant to confused. “What?”I shove her back so fast she gasps, rolling back on the blanket. She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.“What the actual hell was that?” I demand, standing up. “You said this was about closure. About peace. About friendship.”She stands up quickly. “I never said we didn’t still have something.”“I did,” I protest. “I’ve said it a hundred times.”“You let me believe it,” she fires back, straightening. “You came here. You said you missed us.”“Not like that, Savannah. I never meant that.”“You think I kissed you out of nowhere?” Her voice sharpens. “You think I imagined your feelings for me?”“Yes,” I shoot back. “Stop this fantasy you keep trying to sell