7

“Wow... your work is incredible, Sera,” Chloe said, eyes glued to the sketch on the screen.

Sera didn't look up, just let out a soft snort. “Since when do you ever hate anything with diamonds?”

“Fair point.” Chloe laughed, leaning back. “I like shiny things. Can't help it. But hey, I’m lucky. My best friend just happens to be a world-class jewelry designer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep the compliments coming, as long as you actually pay my design f*e this time,” Sera teased, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Ouch. Cold,” Chloe pouted, putting a hand over her heart. “You’re swimming in cash and you’re still squeezing your poor friend? The underpaid humanitarian doctor?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Do I look like the richest person in America or...”

Chloe froze. The words hung in the air, unfinished. The warm light in the study suddenly felt heavy, swallowed by a sharp, awkward silence.

“Sera...” Chloe’s voice dropped, barely a whisper.

“Mm?” Sera kept her focus on the iPad, her stylus moving in smooth, practiced strokes.

“I talked to Ronald yesterday. He said... the Anderson Group headquarters is in the middle of a massive legal war.”

Sera’s hand stopped dead. The rhythmic tapping of the stylus vanished. “A legal war?”

Chloe nodded, her eyes full of sympathy. “I don't have all the details. Ronald just said that bastard is drowning in lawsuits. And his assets are leaking everywhere.”

Sera slowly lowered the iPad onto the desk. Her chest tightened as she tried to process a name and a life she had spent years trying to erase. “I don’t get it, Chloe. How?”

“I don’t know either. Angeline gets here tonight, she’ll know more. Whatever is happening to Ashford, it’s all New York’s elite can talk about right now.”

Sera just nodded. Her eyes drifted toward the large glass wall separating her office from the playroom.

On the fluffy rug, her three-year-old triplets were sitting in a messy circle. They were coloring, clutching bright crayons in their tiny hands. Their high-pitched, innocent giggles drifted through the room.

“They’re growing up so fast, Sera. You’re doing an amazing job,” Chloe said, her voice cracking slightly as she watched the kids.

The cold weight in Sera's chest melted, replaced by a fierce, protective warmth. “The only thing I got right back then was having them. Thank you, Chloe. If you hadn't reminded me... I might have forgotten that these babies didn't choose to be born out of hate.”

Chloe slid closer, wrapping her hand around Sera’s, giving it a firm, grounding squeeze. “Thank you for surviving, Sera. Thank you for staying.”

The sharp, heavy click of stilettos against the wood floor shattered the quiet moment.

The front door kicked open. Angeline dropped her suitcase right by the foyer, tearing off her sunglasses. She looked exhausted, her hair a bit messy from the brutal flight from New York, but she didn't care. She marched straight into the living room.

“I swear, flights to New Zealand are designed to break a human spine,” Angeline groaned, collapsing onto the velvet sofa next to Chloe.

Sera let out a real laugh this time. “Welcome to Wanaka, Ange. There’s a hot cup of tea waiting to save your life.”

“Oh God, thank you.” Angeline grabbed the porcelain cup, took a long, desperate gulp, and let out a heavy breath. But the relief didn't last. The moment she looked at Sera, the fatigue vanished from her face, replaced by a grim, serious stare.

Chloe sat up straight, unable to hold it in anymore. “Well? Don’t make us beg. What’s the word from back home?”

Angeline set the cup down with a quiet clink. She glanced at Chloe, then let her eyes rest on Sera. There was a flicker of hesitation there... the universal look of a friend terrified of ripping open an old, jagged scar.

“It’s about Arthur Ashford,” Angeline said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper so the kids wouldn't hear. “His empire is cracking.”

She paused, watching Sera’s reaction.

“You both know his marriage to Veronica was just a business deal. Nobody believed that prick could actually love anyone else after what he did to you, Sera.”

Sera didn't flinch. She just smiled faintly, lazily stirring her tea. Her face was as still and unreadable as the surface of Lake Wanaka outside.

“Turns out, Veronica wasn't just playing the dutiful wife,” Angeline continued, a sharp edge of satisfaction bleeding into her tone. “She was screwing around behind his back. And not just with anyone, with one of Ashford’s biggest rivals. On top of that, she leaked everything. Financial reports, European acquisition plans, confidential tech. Everything. Half of Ashford’s subsidiaries are staring down bankruptcy because the stock prices took a nosedive. Their divorce has been front-page news on Wall Street for a week.”

Chloe let out a dismissive snort, crossing her arms. “Instant karma. He thought he could control the world with money and revenge, and he ended up betrayed by the exact woman he chose to share his throne with.”

Angeline didn't join in. Instead, she watched Sera, her eyes searching her friend's face for any sign of a crack. Leaning forward, she took Sera’s warm hand.

“Sera... are you really okay hearing this? Tell us the truth. If his name still makes it hard to breathe, say the word. I’ll never mention New York in this house again.”

Chloe reached out too, taking Sera’s other hand. Both women looked at her with a raw, fierce protectiveness. They had been there. They had watched Seraphine Anderson completely shatter four years ago. They saw the woman who almost lost her mind at the altar, who screamed her lungs out at her father’s grave, and who went through the agonizing pain of changing her face and her entire identity just to survive.

Sera looked at her friends. There were no tears in her eyes. No lingering ghosts of pain. Just a soft, genuine smile. She squeezed their hands back, wanting them to feel the peace she finally had.

“I’m okay, Ange. Chloe. Really,” Sera said. Her voice was steady. Grounded. Not a single tremor of trauma left. “I’m not lying, and I’m not playing strong for your sake. I’ve truly made peace with it.”

She looked past them, toward the large glass door leading to the backyard.

Outside, under the soft gold of the New Zealand sunset, Maxliam, Aurelia, and Alessia were huddled together on the grass, coloring. Their bright, musical laughs drifted through the glass, filling every empty corner of the house.

“I used to think my life ended when I walked away from that altar,” Sera said softly. “Then Dad died, and my whole world turned to ash. But look at me now. I live in a quiet town. I raise my babies. I watch them grow up healthy every single day. That’s more than enough to heal the worst wounds. To me, Arthur Ashford is just a chapter in a book I’ve already finished. I don’t hate him anymore. I just don't care if he’s ruling the world or bleeding at rock bottom.”

Angeline let out a long, shaky breath, sinking back into the cushions. Relief washed over her features. “Thank God. You have no idea how terrified I was that my big mouth would ruin the peace you built here.”

“Never,” Sera laughed, the tension completely evaporating. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. You can help me celebrate a little win tonight.”

“A little win?” Chloe arched an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on her lips. “You mean the massive order from the Duchess of Cambridge that hit your inbox two hours ago?”

Angeline’s jaw dropped. “Wait. What? The royal family?”

Sera laughed at her expression. Four years ago, she had buried Seraphine Anderson... the darling of New York fashion whose gowns were the crown jewels of the Met Gala. But burning that bridge had forced her onto a path she never saw coming.

In Wanaka, she traded silk, needles, and thread for wax models, raw gemstones, and precious metals. She built a jewelry empire from nothing, under a name no one knew. Moving from couture to fine jewelry hadn't been easy, but the art in her veins didn't care about the medium. Her modern, minimalist pieces, sleek but dripping with timeless luxury... instantly caught fire.

Of course, she hadn't done it entirely alone.

Angeline, Chloe, and a tight circle of Manhattan socialites who stayed loyal had become her secret weapon. They kept her location a deadly secret, but they wore her exclusive designs to every charity gala, high-society dinner, and red carpet in New York and Europe.

“You know how those women are,” Sera whispered playfully. “The second Ange wore my The Ethereal Dew necklace to the Vogue party last month, the whole room started losing their minds trying to find the designer.”

“Oh, and don't forget Ronald!” Angeline chimed in, leaning forward excitedly. “He wore those emerald cufflinks from your collection to a watch collectors' summit in Switzerland. Now New York’s elite are going crazy because this 'mystery designer' is too exclusive to take their money.”

Sera’s signature look, combined with her strict private-order policy, turned her brand into the ultimate status symbol. New money billionaires were willing to wait months just for a single custom set designed by her hand.

“I just took the opening,” Sera said modestly, though she couldn't hide the proud curve of her smile. “But I’m so grateful. You guys never get tired of pulling wires for me.”

“We do it because your work is flawless, Sera,” Chloe interrupted firmly. “We just built the bridge. Your brilliance is what walks across it.”

The front door clicked, and the sliding glass door from the backyard shoved open. Three pairs of tiny feet pounded against the oak floors.

“Mommy!”

Alessia’s high-pitched voice cut through the room. The little girl, her curly brown hair bouncing in two messy pigtails, threw herself straight into Sera’s lap. She proudly held up a crumpled piece of paper covered in chaotic red and yellow crayon streaks.

“Look! I drew a giant dragon for Mommy!”

Sera caught her in a warm embrace, pressing a deep kiss to her temple. “Wow, it’s beautiful. Such a brave dragon. Just like my Alessia.”

Behind her, Maxliam approached at a much slower pace. The three-year-old had strikingly sharp eyes and a quiet, serious weight to him... a resemblance that used to make Sera’s heart physically ache in the early days, but one she now held as a blessing.

Liam walked right up to Angeline and held out a tiny, polite hand. “Auntie Ange,” he greeted, his voice carrying an adorable little lisp.

Angeline squealed, scooping him up onto her lap and burying his cheeks in kisses. “Oh my goodness! Liam, how do you get cuter every single time I see you? Come here, Auntie brought a mountain of toys from New York for you and your sisters.”

Aurelia, the cheerful middle child, perked up the second she heard the word toys. She padded over, tugging on the hem of Chloe’s dress, flashing the sweet, dimpled smile that could melt glacier ice.

“Mommy, who is he?”

***