Chapter 17 : Something’s happened to Serena,

Dear Gentle Readers,

Buon Natale !!! How are you? Have you celebrated the Christmas? 

This author certainly hopes you are having a wonderful day (and celebration if you do celebrate Christmas) wherever you are, hope you are with your loved ones. 

Yours, E.C. 

p.s. this author has accidentally copy pasted the chapter in the wrong order hence if you see a duplication from previous chapter, it is merely because it should have been in this chapter but was copy pasted wrongly while uploading it last time. Sincere apologies. This author regrets not being careful and hope this free chapter can make up for the inconvenience. Perdonami ...

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In recent months, Rachel had been utterly consumed by her new relationship. Her world had shrunk down to just two people—her and Tom. She hadn’t seen much of Serena, not since that accident that had left everyone shaken. Aside from that one hospital visit, her days were spent at Tom’s place, curled against him, helping out with his cousin Zoe’s recovery, or simply living in the quiet illusion that their different worlds could somehow align.

That illusion shattered the moment her phone buzzed.

“Hello, Ms. Rowell,” came Maria Torres’s voice on the other end, polite but edged with worry. “I wanted to ask if Ms. Morales has told you where she’s been recently. We haven’t been able to reach her for several days.”

Rachel froze. The name alone pulled her out of her haze. “Serena? You haven’t reached her?”

Her brows drew together sharply. The social circle had been whispering for weeks about Serena’s rekindled closeness with Alexander Vanderbilt—whispers of late-night meetings, of how he seemed to truly care for her. So why was someone from Le Châteauesque Manor calling her of all people?

Her tone hardened. “Shouldn’t you be asking Alexander about this?”

There was a pause on the line before Maria replied carefully, “Mr. Vanderbilt… doesn’t seem to know either.”

Rachel blinked. Doesn’t know?

Her pulse quickened, irritation rising like heat. “He doesn’t know? Wasn’t she with him these past few days?”

Maria didn’t answer, and Rachel abruptly ended the call. Her hands trembled slightly as she dialed Serena’s number, only to be met with a mechanical voice:

“The number you have dialed is powered off…”

She tried again—nothing. A hollow feeling sank in her stomach.

Next, she called Alexander. The phone rang twice before it disconnected. He’d hung up.

Rachel’s anger boiled over. “Unbelievable!” she muttered, throwing her phone down onto the sheets.

Beside her, Tom stirred. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as his voice, groggy with sleep, rumbled against her ear. “Hey… what’s going on? Where are you going?”

“Something’s happened to Serena,” Rachel said, sitting up and brushing his hand off. “I need to find someone who knows what’s going on.”

Tom blinked in confusion as he propped himself up. They were staying in a modest townhouse he’d rented—a far cry from the opulent suites Rachel had grown up in. When she’d moved in to help take care of Zoe, his hospitalized cousin, Rachel’s usual sharp-tongued, pampered demeanor had softened. The once-spoiled heiress had learned how to cook simple meals, fold laundry, and laugh at his terrible jokes. She hadn’t told a soul that she, Rachel Rowell, daughter of the powerful Samuel Rowell, was living like an ordinary woman.

She reached for her clothes, sliding into a silk blouse and dark jeans. Tom’s gaze trailed lazily over her as a smirk curved his lips. “Rachel,” he drawled, “have your breasts gotten bigger?”

She froze mid-button, turning to glare at him. His teasing grin only widened. Rachel’s figure had always been enviable, but she did notice lately that her chest felt a little heavier—no doubt from his constant, possessive hands.

She rolled her eyes and snapped, “You’re impossible,” yanking the last button into place. She grabbed her handbag—a soft beige tote, minimalist and elegant. The bag was a limited-edition designer piece, worth nearly four hundred thousand dollars, but she’d once told Tom it was “just something from a boutique downtown.”

Pretending to be poor had become a strange thrill for her. It was intoxicating—the freedom of being loved without wealth as the price tag. And for Tom, she truly had fallen. Otherwise, she never would’ve hidden him from her father or kept this life tucked away from the glittering social world she came from.

Even Serena didn’t know the full story. Whenever she asked about Rachel’s “future plans,” Rachel had always changed the subject, laughing it off.

But now, as she slipped on her heels and clutched her bag, a strange unease curled in her gut. Something wasn’t right.

And for the first time in months, Tom wasn’t the center of her world—Serena was.

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As soon as Rachel walked out, Tom’s phone began to buzz. The teasing light in his eyes softened the moment he saw the caller ID.

“Hey, Zoe,” he said, his tone turning warm, almost tender. “What’s wrong?”

“Tom…” her voice trembled faintly through the receiver, “aren’t you coming to stay with me tonight? I’m scared to be alone in the hospital.”

Tom had assumed Rachel wouldn’t be coming back that night. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reached for his phone.

“I’m coming over now,” he said quietly.

On the other end of the line, Zoe’s weak but sharp voice trembled through the speaker. “Tom, are you… are you dating that Rachel?”

The question made him pause for a moment.

Rachel had visited the hospital countless times—bringing flowers, homemade food, or simply sitting by Zoe’s bedside for hours. No matter how much Zoe fussed, Rachel always endured it with gentle patience.

But Zoe hated Rachel. She couldn’t stand the way Tom’s eyes softened whenever Rachel’s name was mentioned. Even though their engagement wasn’t public yet, Zoe had always considered herself Tom’s fiancée. After all, Tom had spent years working multiple jobs, paying her endless hospital bills.

Tom sighed. “No, Zoe. Rachel and I are just… good friends. Don’t overthink it. Focus on getting better, okay?”

Zoe’s tone softened, a faint smile detectable through her fatigue.

“I know, Tom. You’re always the best to me.”

Tom exhaled quietly, guilt twisting in his chest. He hung up, pulled on his jacket, and slipped his phone into his pocket.

Just as he was about to leave, the door opened behind him—and Rachel stepped in.

Her hair was a little messy from the wind, her cheeks pink from the night chill. Even in a loose sweatshirt and worn jeans, she carried an effortless beauty that seemed to fill the room. She’d clearly forgotten her keys; her hand was still half-raised to knock when she froze, seeing him already dressed.

It was past midnight. The lights from the street outside cast long shadows across his face.

“Tom,” she asked softly, “where are you going?”

Tom frowned but didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled her gently into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost apologetic.

“Zoe’s having another breakdown,” he murmured. “I’m going to check on her.”

Rachel’s chest tightened. Zoe again.

Zoe’s surgeries—every last expense—had been paid for by Rachel herself. From the imported specialists to the recovery treatments, the bills had long surpassed hundreds of thousands of dollars. She hadn’t hesitated to pay a cent.

She told herself it was because Zoe was Tom’s cousin. That it was the right thing to do. But deep down, she knew it was because she loved him. Because she wanted to be good to anyone he cared about. She also knew Zoe’s story—how her parents had died in the same car crash that took Tom’s father. How Tom’s mother had taken her in, only to take her own life months later. Since then, the two orphans had clung to each other like driftwood in a storm.

Rachel could never bring herself to be cruel to Zoe. She understood loss. And yet, tonight, something inside her ached.

Her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Tom… don’t you think you’re being a little too good to Zoe?”

Her words lingered in the small apartment, thin and fragile.

Tom looked at her, surprised—but then his expression softened. He sighed and pulled her closer. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I know you’ve been patient. I just… can’t abandon her. Once she’s more stable, I’ll find a nurse to stay with her. I promise.”

Rachel hesitated, her heart torn between understanding and jealousy.

Tom had suffered so much—losing both parents, watching his world crumble before he was even grown. His father’s accident, his mother’s suicide… she couldn’t bring herself to blame him for clinging to the only family he had left.

He worked himself to exhaustion, bouncing from one job to another, every penny either going to Zoe’s hospital bills or their shared apartment. How could she resent him for that?

And yet…

“Tom,” she said softly, her fingers tightening around his sleeve, “Zoe’s an adult now. You can’t take care of everything for her. You’re already exhausted. You work all day, every day. I worry about you.”

He smiled faintly but said nothing.

There were times Rachel thought of telling him everything—about her family’s wealth, about the life she could offer him if he’d just let her. But she knew how proud he was.

She remembered the bar where they met—how women used to flock to him, offering to pay his bills, to “keep” him. He’d turned them all down without hesitation.

Rachel had been one of those women once—drawn by his looks, his voice, his quiet confidence. But what started as infatuation had become something deeper, something that burned in her chest.

Tom had given her moments she’d never forget—moments of warmth and laughter, of tenderness and wildness. He wasn’t rich, but he was real. He made her feel alive.

Money meant little to her now. What mattered was him—his heart, his struggle, his quiet resilience. And that was what made it so painful to watch him walk out into the cold night again. 

“Rachel, I’ve neglected your feelings lately,” Tom said softly, his tone carrying just the right amount of remorse. “I’ll talk to Zoe. She’s been relying on me too much lately—it’s gotten out of hand.”

His words were gentle, almost self-effacing, and for a moment, Rachel’s irritation wavered. The sincerity in his eyes made her chest tighten with guilt. Maybe she was being a little unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it—she didn’t want her boyfriend constantly dropping everything for another woman, even if it was “just Zoe.”

Rachel exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. Then, in a moment of impulsive affection, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Alright,” she murmured with a faint smile, “I’m heading out.”

She snatched her keys from the table and hurried toward the door, her perfume lingering faintly in the air after she was gone.

The door clicked shut, and the gentle warmth that had colored Tom’s face instantly faded. His smile slipped away, replaced by a cold, detached expression. He stared at the door for a long moment, his fingers subconsciously brushing the spot where her lips had touched his. Then, as if disgusted, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His breathing came unevenly as he leaned against the counter, the faint taste of her lip balm still lingering. For a moment, something within him stirred—something he hadn’t anticipated.

He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts back into order. No. Don’t get lost in this.

This wasn’t real.

It was a game—an elaborate, carefully crafted act—and he couldn’t afford to forget that.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tom straightened his collar, the gentleness from moments ago completely erased from his demeanor. The mask had fallen away. With a final glance toward the door Rachel had disappeared through, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, his footsteps echoing with a quiet, deliberate calm.