Chapter 2

THE PHOENIX RISES

(Serena’s POV)

The cold night air slapped my face as I stepped out of the Blackwood Estate. My breath came out in sharp puffs of white, matching the furious rhythm of my heartbeat.  

I did it!

I actually did it!

The stained ivory gown clung to my legs as I walked, the fabric stiffening from the dried wine but I didn't care. For the first time in three years, I felt alive.

A black town car pulled up in front of me right on time. The window rolled down, revealing Elena's sharp grin.  

“Get in, badass,” she said.  

I slid into the leather seat, my body trembling, not from the cold, but from the adrenaline. The moment the door closed, I collapsed against the headrest, my hands shaking as I pressed them to my suddenly queasy stomach.  

Elena took one look at me and burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You actually did it.” She shoved a tumbler of whiskey into my hands. “Drink. You look like you're about to pass out from badass overload.”

The sharp scent of alcohol hit my nose and my stomach revolted. I shoved the glass back at her, swallowing hard against the sudden bile in my throat. “Not... not tonight.”  

Elena's perfectly arched eyebrow shot up. “Since when do you turn down whiskey? This calls for celebration!” 

I opened my mouth to respond when another wave of nausea hit me. My mind raced back to the last month, the fatigue I'd blamed on stress, the food aversions, and the missed period.

Oh God!

Elena's expression shifted from amusement to concern as she saw the color drain from my face. “Serena? What's wrong?”

I met her gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need you to stop at a pharmacy. Right now.”

Twenty Minutes Later. The pregnancy test sat on the edge of my bathroom sink, its digital display ticking down the longest three minutes of my life. I paced the marble floors of Elena’s apartment, 

Elena leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. “It's probably just stress. You've been through hell these last…”

A beep cut her off.  

We both froze.  

With trembling hands, I picked up the test.  

PREGNANT. Exactly 4 weeks!

The world turned. I gripped the countertop for support.  

Damien's child?

Conceived during one of his rare remorseful nights, when he'd actually come home sober and whispered apologies against my skin. He had forgotten to use a condom, jeez!

Elena snatched the test from my hand. Her mouth fell open. “Oh. My. God.”

“I can't…” My voice broke. “I can't let him know.” 

Elena's shock turned into fierce determination. She grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me. This changes nothing about our plans. If anything, it makes them more important.” 

I pressed a hand to my still-flat stomach. “He'll use this. He'll try to take…”

“Over my dead body,” Elena snarled. She began pacing, her lawyer brain already strategizing. “We accelerate everything. The company launched. The patent filings. We make you untouchable before anyone even suspects.” 

I sank onto the edge of my bathtub, the reality crashing over me. I was going to be a mother. Alone.  

Elena knelt before me, as though she could read my mind, her eyes blazing. “You're not alone. And that baby?” She pointed at my stomach. “That's a Vaughn. Not a Blackwood. Remember that.”

One Month Later. The penthouse elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into my new empire.  

Mine.

No more gilded cages. No more pretending.  

Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the Manhattan skyline, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars. The space was sleek, white marble floors, black leather furniture, and a single framed photo on the wall, my patent, the one Damien's father had stolen from me three years ago and forced me into marrying his son.

The divorce was a success, Elena made sure of it. I made away with a reasonable part of Damian's assets.

Elena whistled as she followed me in, her arms full of legal documents. “Damn, boss. This is a hell of an upgrade from being Mrs. Blackwood.”

I smirked, running my fingers over the back of the sofa before pressing a discreet hand to my stomach. The morning sickness had been brutal, but the small bump just beginning to show was worth every moment.  

“Just the beginning,” I said.  

My phone buzzed. Again.  

It was an unknown number. “You're making a mistake, Serena.” The message read.

Damian.

I rolled my eyes and blocked him, again.

Elena flopped onto the couch, scrolling through her tablet. “So, the press is calling you 'The Phoenix' now. You know, because you rose from the ashes of your marriage and all that poetic crap”

I snorted. “Creative.”

“Also,” she added, grinning, “Blackwood Industries stock dropped 8% after your divorce announcement. Eleanor would be seething by now.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. “Good.”

Then my phone buzzed, again. But this time, it wasn't Damien.  

Breaking News: Serena Vaughn, ex-wife of billionaire Damien Blackwood, emerges as CEO of Vaughn Innovations, a tech startup valued at $500M. 

Elena whooped. “Oh, this is gonna kill him.” 

I scrolled through the article, my heart pounding. There it was, my face, my company, my name, finally being taken seriously.

Then, at the bottom of the article, I reached for the comment, Damien Blackwood commented only one word. “Impossible.”

I laughed hard.

“Impossible?” I repeated, tossing my phone onto the table. “He hasn't seen anything yet.”

Elena's gaze dropped meaningfully to my stomach. “Literally.”

Later that night, the knock at my door startled me from my thoughts. I'd been standing at the window, one hand resting on my bump as I watched the city lights.  

I wasn't expecting anyone.  

Elena had left hours ago, and the only people who knew where I lived were…

No.

I wasn't that lucky.  

I peered through the security camera.  

Damien? How did he find me?

His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his tie loose, his eyes wild. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days.  

Serves him right.

I quickly grabbed an oversized blazer from the coat rack, buttoning it to conceal any hint of my changing body before approaching the door.  

I didn't move to open it.  

He knocked again, harder this time. “Serena. Open the damn door. I know you're in there!” 

I crossed my arms. “Go home, Damien.”

“We need to talk!” He thundered.

“We're divorced. We don't need to do anything.” I replied.

“Is it true?” His voice was rough. “The company? The valuation? Did you really…”

“Build an empire while you weren't paying attention?” I finished sweetly. “Yes.”

Silence followed.

Then, so quiet I almost didn't hear it…

“You were never supposed to leave.” He said, and I could sense the bitterness in his voice.

My chest tightened. Too little, too late.

“Funny,” I said, my voice icy. “Because you never seemed to notice I was there.”

Another pause. Then, his voice dropped, low and dangerous.  

“You took something from me, Serena.”

I froze.  

Did he know? I thought.

No. He couldn't. His father was discreet about it.

I forced a laugh. “What, your ego? Yeah, I noticed.”

“Not that,” he growled. “The patent. My patent.”

Oh. That.

I smirked. “Correction, Damien. It was never yours.”

The door shook as he slammed his fist against it. “Open. The. Door.” 

I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing the wood as I whispered…  

“Make me.”

Then I walked away, leaving him seething on the other side. My hand instinctively went to my stomach as I moved to the window, watching his silhouette storm away into the night.  

  

The next morning, the headlines were brutal.

“Blackwood Heir Humiliated as Ex-Wife's Company Skyrockets”

“Is Serena Vaughn the New Queen of New York?”

“Damien Blackwood's Net Worth Drops $200M Overnight”

Elena burst into my office, waving her phone. “You're trending. Everywhere.”

I scrolled through social media, my stomach flipping at the sheer rage in Damien's latest post, a single, furious tweet.

@DamienBlackwood. “This isn't over.”

I grinned, my hand resting protectively over my bump beneath the desk.  

“Oh, Damien,” I murmured. “It's already over.”