Chapter Six

SERENA

I woke up to Nina screaming.

Not the kind of scream that meant someone was trying to murder her. More like the kind she made whenever she couldn’t find her phone, which happened at least three times a week.

“SERENA!”

I pulled the blanket over my head.

“No.”

“Get up!”

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

My bedroom door flew open.

Well, technically, it was Nina’s guest bedroom, but I’d slept there, so I was claiming temporary ownership.

“Why is there a man standing outside my apartment?”

That got my attention.

I pushed the blanket off my face.

“What man?”

“A very large man in a black suit who looks like he eats people for breakfast.”

I sat up.

“What?”

“Exactly! I went downstairs to collect my delivery, and he’s standing by the entrance. I asked who he was waiting for, and he said he’s here for you.”

I reached for my phone.

Three missed calls.

Two from my mother.

One from an unfamiliar number.

And a text message.

KAEL BLACKWELL:

Security will be stationed outside the building until we identify whoever sent that photograph.

I stared at it.

Then I checked the time.

8:26 a.m.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

“Serena?”

I looked up.

Nina stood in the doorway wearing pink pajamas and an expression that suggested she was about to start throwing things.

“Please tell me you didn’t hire a bodyguard without telling me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why is there one downstairs?”

“Because apparently Kael Blackwell has decided I’m incapable of surviving a Monday morning.”

Nina blinked.

Then her face changed.

“Oh.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, this is interesting.”

“It’s not interesting.”

“He sent you security?”

“Without asking.”

Nina leaned against the doorframe.

“That’s kind of hot.”

I stared at her.

“You’re actually sick.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

“He’s treating me like a package that needs to be signed for.”

“A very expensive package.”

“Nina.”

She burst out laughing.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.

She dodged it.

“Get dressed,” she said. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since you started attracting billionaires with questionable personalities.”

I fell back against the pillows.

This was going to be a very long day.

⸻

By nine thirty, I was sitting at Nina’s kitchen island, eating scrambled eggs while trying to decide whether calling Kael Blackwell before coffee counted as self-harm.

Nina was making toast.

Badly.

The first two slices had already gone into the bin.

“You’re burning it again,” I said.

She looked over her shoulder.

“Do you want breakfast or commentary?”

“Preferably breakfast.”

“Then shut up.”

I smiled and reached for my phone.

Kael answered on the second ring.

“Serena.”

I hated how he did that.

Just said my name, like he’d been expecting the call.

“Good morning to you too, Your Majesty.”

A pause.

“Good morning.”

“Why is there a man standing outside Nina’s building?”

“Security.”

“I gathered that much. I was hoping for an explanation.”

“Someone threatened you yesterday.”

“And that means you get to make decisions about my life?”

“It means I’m taking precautions.”

“Without telling me?”

“I sent you a message.”

“After you sent the man!”

Nina looked up from the toaster.

I waved her away.

Kael sighed.

“Would you have agreed if I’d asked?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

I closed my eyes.

This man.

“That’s not how consent works, Kael.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then he said, “You’re right.”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“I should have asked.”

I sat up straighter.

Nina looked at me.

I mouthed, He apologized.

Her eyes widened.

“Hello?” Kael said.

“I’m here.”

“Then why did you go quiet?”

“Because I wasn’t expecting you to behave like a reasonable person.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

I smiled despite myself.

“Too late. I’m telling everyone.”

“Serena.”

“Should I call the newspapers?”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait!”

He didn’t hang up.

I cleared my throat.

“Look, I understand why you’re worried. But I don’t want some stranger following me everywhere.”

“He won’t follow you.”

“Then what exactly is he doing?”

“Watching the building.”

“That’s still creepy.”

“Would you prefer whoever sent that photograph to walk straight through the front door?”

I stopped smiling.

There it was.

The part I kept trying not to think about.

Someone had followed me.

Taken my photograph.

And threatened to make sure I didn’t get home next time.

I pushed my plate away.

“How long?” I asked.

“Until we know who’s responsible.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

I sighed.

“Fine. But he stays outside. No following me around unless I agree.”

“Agreed.”

“And Nina needs to know exactly who he is.”

“I’ll have Daniel send you his details.”

“Thank you.”

A pause.

Then Kael said, “Did you sleep?”

I frowned.

“What?”

“Last night. Did you sleep?”

It was such an ordinary question that I didn’t immediately know what to do with it.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Did you?”

“Eventually.”

I looked down at my plate.

For some reason, I remembered the way he’d spoken about Vivienne in his office.

How he’d gone quiet when I asked whether he’d loved her.

“Kael?”

“Yes?”

“Have you found anything about the man we were supposed to meet?”

His tone changed.

“Not yet.”

“Do you think he’s dead?”

A longer pause.

“I don’t know.”

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure why that answer made me feel better.

“All right.”

“Serena?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go back to your apartment alone.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You were doing so well.”

“Goodbye, Serena.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

Nina placed a plate of slightly burnt toast in front of me.

“Well?”

I looked up.

“Well, what?”

“How’s your billionaire boyfriend?”

I picked up a piece of toast.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet.”

I threw the toast at her.

⸻

I returned to my apartment around noon.

Not alone.

Because apparently the universe had decided to make my life as inconvenient as possible.

The security guard Kael had assigned introduced himself as Marcus Reed.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and looked as though he hadn’t smiled since childhood.

“Miss Sinclair,” he said when I approached him outside Nina’s building.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me ma’am.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

I sighed.

“You’re going to be fun.”

He didn’t respond.

Wonderful.

At least Kael had found someone with an equally delightful personality.

Marcus drove me to my apartment in a black SUV.

I spent most of the journey trying to make conversation.

He answered every question with approximately three words.

By the time we arrived, I’d learned that he was thirty-four, had worked in private security for eleven years, and apparently considered smiling a threat to national security.

“Do you ever laugh?” I asked as he parked.

“Sometimes.”

“When?”

He thought about it.

“At funny things.”

I stared at him.

Then I burst out laughing.

He looked mildly confused.

“Oh, Marcus. We’re going to get along just fine.”

⸻

My apartment looked exactly as I’d left it.

Which should have been reassuring.

Instead, I found myself checking every room.

The bedroom.

The bathroom.

The little storage closet near the kitchen.

I even looked behind the shower curtain.

Ridiculous.

There was nobody there.

Of course there wasn’t.

Marcus waited in the hallway while I packed a small overnight bag.

I wasn’t moving out permanently. I refused to let some anonymous creep chase me out of my own home.

But staying with Nina for another night or two seemed sensible.

I was folding a sweater when my phone rang.

Mom.

I considered ignoring it.

Then remembered the two missed calls from earlier.

I answered.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Serena Sinclair, where have you been?”

I winced.

Full name.

Not good.

“Good afternoon to you too.”

“I’ve been calling you since this morning.”

“I was sleeping.”

“At ten?”

“Some of us enjoy rest.”

“Your father wants to speak to you.”

I sat on the edge of my bed.

“About what now?”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Mom, I’m really not in the mood for another lecture.”

“This isn’t a lecture.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

She went quiet.

I waited.

Then she asked, “Have you spoken to Kael Blackwell again?”

My stomach tightened.

There it was.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Serena!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear.

“Mom, please.”

“What did you discuss?”

“Vivienne.”

Silence.

I stared at the wall.

“Mom?”

“Where are you?”

“At my apartment.”

“Stay there. I’m coming over.”

I sat up.

“What? Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Not over the phone.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the screen.

Unbelievable.

Did nobody in my life know how to end a conversation like a normal person?

⸻

My mother arrived forty minutes later.

Marcus called from downstairs to let me know she was coming up.

I opened the door before she knocked.

She stepped inside wearing a cream-colored dress and carrying her usual designer handbag.

Her eyes moved around the apartment.

“You’re packing?”

“Just a few things.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nina’s.”

“Why?”

I hesitated.

I hadn’t told my parents about the photograph.

Part of me wanted to.

Another part remembered how my father had reacted when I mentioned Vivienne.

I wasn’t sure I trusted him with the information.

“Just spending a few days with her.”

My mother looked unconvinced.

“Serena.”

“Mom.”

She sighed and walked toward the living room.

I followed.

She sat on the sofa, placed her handbag beside her, and folded her hands.

I remained standing.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

She looked up.

“Sit down.”

I stared at her.

“Why does everyone keep telling me to sit down?”

“Because you’re making me nervous.”

That surprised me.

My mother didn’t admit to being nervous.

Not even when I’d accidentally driven her car into the garden fountain at sixteen.

I sat opposite her.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she asked, “What did Kael tell you about Vivienne?”

I studied her.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know first?”

Her expression tightened.

“Serena.”

“No, Mom. I’m tired of this. Every time I ask about Vivienne, you and Dad act like I’ve committed a crime.”

“We’re trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

She looked away.

I leaned forward.

“Mom.”

“Vivienne wasn’t who you thought she was.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

I stared at her.

“What?”

My mother swallowed.

“She was involved in things you didn’t understand.”

“What things?”

“Business matters. Personal matters. Things that had consequences.”

I laughed once.

Not because it was funny.

Because I’d heard almost the exact same words from my father.

“Did you and Dad rehearse this?”

“Don’t be disrespectful.”

“Then stop giving me the same answer!”

My voice rose.

My mother flinched.

I immediately regretted shouting.

But I was tired.

Tired of being treated like a child.

Tired of everyone deciding what I could handle.

Tired of hearing that the woman who’d loved me for years was somehow dangerous without anyone explaining why.

I took a breath.

“Mom, please. Just tell me what happened.”

She looked at me.

For a moment, I thought she might.

Then her eyes filled with tears.

That stopped me.

My mother rarely cried.

I’d seen her cry at funerals, once when my grandmother was hospitalized, and the day I moved out.

But never like this.

“Mom?”

She wiped her cheek quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

I frowned.

“For what?”

She shook her head.

“I should have done things differently.”

My chest tightened.

“What things?”

She looked toward the window.

“Vivienne came to see me before she died.”

I went completely still.

“What?”

“Two days before the accident.”

I stared at her.

“She came here?”

My mother nodded.

“To the house.”

“Why?”

She hesitated.

“She was frightened.”

I felt cold.

“Of what?”

My mother looked at me.

“She wouldn’t say.”

I shook my head.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Serena—”

“No. You just said she came to you frightened. Why would she come to you if she wasn’t going to tell you what was wrong?”

My mother pressed her lips together.

I leaned forward.

“What did she want?”

She looked down at her hands.

Then she whispered, “She wanted me to take you away.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

“What?”

“She asked me to take you out of New York. Just for a few weeks.”

I stared at her.

“Why?”

My mother shook her head.

“She said you weren’t safe.”

The room seemed to tilt.

I sat back slowly.

Eight years.

For eight years, I’d believed Vivienne had died in a tragic accident.

Now my mother was telling me she’d been frightened for my safety two days before she died.

“Did you do it?” I asked.

My mother didn’t answer.

I already knew.

“No,” I whispered.

“Your father said she was overreacting.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course he did.

“Did you believe her?”

My mother looked at me.

“I didn’t know what to believe.”

I opened my eyes.

“Mom.”

Her face crumpled.

“I thought she was upset about Victor. I thought they’d had another argument.”

I froze.

“Victor Blackwell?”

She nodded.

I stared at her.

“You knew about them?”

“Of course.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t my story to tell.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Apparently, nobody thought anything was my business.”

My mother reached for my hand.

I let her take it.

“Serena, listen to me. Whatever Kael Blackwell is telling you, be careful.”

“Why?”

“Because he loved Vivienne too.”

I blinked.

“I know.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Kael was devastated when she died. But before that, something happened between Vivienne and Victor, and Kael believed she’d betrayed them.”

I swallowed.

“He still believes that.”

My mother looked surprised.

“Does he?”

I nodded.

She looked away.

For a moment, she seemed to be considering something.

Then she stood abruptly.

“I should go.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“Your father will be wondering where I am.”

I stood too.

“Mom, you can’t just tell me all this and leave.”

She picked up her handbag.

“Please don’t tell him I came.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Serena, please.”

I stared at her.

My mother had never asked me to keep something from my father.

Not like this.

“Why?”

She looked at me.

And for the first time in my life, I saw something in her expression that frightened me.

Fear.

Not for herself.

For me.

“Because if Richard finds out what I’ve told you, he’ll know I’ve finally stopped keeping his secrets.”

⸻

I stood by the door long after my mother left.

Marcus had escorted her downstairs.

My overnight bag sat open on the bed, half-packed.

I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

Vivienne had asked my mother to take me away.

Two days before she died.

Why?

What had she known?

And why had my father dismissed her warning?

I picked up my phone.

For a moment, I considered calling Nina.

Then I opened Kael’s contact.

KAEL BLACKWELL — DO NOT ARGUE WITH THIS MAN

I stared at the name.

Then pressed call.

He answered almost immediately.

“Serena.”

“Are you busy?”

A pause.

“Why?”

“Because I need to tell you something.”

His tone changed.

“What happened?”

“My mother came to see me.”

Silence.

Then—

“What did she say?”

I sat on the edge of my bed.

“Vivienne visited her two days before she died.”

Kael didn’t speak.

“She was frightened,” I continued. “She wanted my mother to take me out of New York.”

Still nothing.

“Kael?”

“I’m here.”

His voice sounded different.

Tighter.

“Did your mother say why?”

“No. But she mentioned Victor.”

A long pause.

Then he asked, “Where are you?”

“At my apartment.”

“Is Marcus with you?”

“He’s downstairs.”

“Stay there.”

I frowned.

“Kael—”

“I’m coming.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

Then I sighed.

“Of course you are.”

⸻

Kael arrived twenty-five minutes later.

I knew because Marcus called to let me know he was coming up.

When I opened the door, Kael stood in the hallway wearing a dark suit, his expression serious.

He looked like he’d come straight from a meeting.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I blinked.

“Hello to you too.”

“Serena.”

“I’m fine.”

He studied me for a moment.

Then nodded.

“Can I come in?”

I stepped aside.

“Look at you, asking permission. I’m so proud.”

He ignored that.

He walked into the living room, glanced around, and turned back to me.

“Tell me everything.”

I folded my arms.

“Do you ever say please?”

“Please.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

We sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

I told him everything.

About my mother’s visit.

About Vivienne asking her to take me away.

About my father’s refusal to listen.

And about the warning not to tell him she’d come.

Kael didn’t interrupt once.

That was unusual.

When I finished, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Two days before the accident,” he said.

I nodded.

“And she specifically mentioned you?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his jaw.

I watched him.

“Kael?”

He looked up.

“What?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Thinking something and refusing to say it.”

He leaned back.

“I’m trying to understand why Vivienne would believe you were in danger.”

“Join the club.”

He studied me.

“Did she ever give you anything before she died?”

I frowned.

“Like what?”

“A letter. A document. Anything unusual.”

I thought about it.

Vivienne had given me plenty of things over the years.

Birthday presents.

Books.

Jewelry.

Little souvenirs from her travels.

But nothing particularly strange.

“I don’t think so.”

“Think carefully.”

I looked at him.

“Kael, I was seventeen. It was eight years ago.”

“I know.”

“Then stop looking at me like I’m deliberately withholding information.”

His expression softened slightly.

“I’m not.”

I sighed.

Then something occurred to me.

“Wait.”

He sat straighter.

“What?”

“There was a box.”

“A box?”

I nodded slowly.

“After Vivienne died, Martha gave me a box of things she’d left at our house.”

“What was inside?”

“Mostly photographs. A few letters. Some jewelry.”

“Do you still have it?”

I hesitated.

“I think so.”

“Where?”

“At my parents’ house.”

Kael went quiet.

I watched him.

Then I groaned.

“Oh, don’t even think about it.”

He looked at me.

“Think about what?”

“You’re about to suggest we go searching through my parents’ house.”

“I wasn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He paused.

“Not immediately.”

I laughed.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He almost smiled.

Then his phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen.

His expression changed.

I noticed immediately.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Kael.”

He looked at me.

I folded my arms.

“No secrets. Remember?”

He stared at me for a moment.

Then turned the phone toward me.

A message from Damon.

MARTIN KELLER’S BANK ACCOUNT WAS ACCESSED THIS MORNING. SOMEONE WITHDREW $40,000 IN CASH.

I frowned.

“Does that mean he’s alive?”

“Possibly.”

“Then we can find him.”

Kael didn’t answer.

I looked up.

“What?”

He was still staring at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

THE WITHDRAWAL WAS MADE FROM AN ACCOUNT CONNECTED TO SINCLAIR HOLDINGS.

I felt my stomach drop.

Sinclair Holdings.

My father’s company.

I looked at Kael.

He looked back at me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then I shook my head.

“No.”

“Serena—”

“No. There has to be an explanation.”

“I’m sure there is.”

I stared at him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk to me like you already know what it means.”

He put his phone down.

“I’m not accusing your father of anything.”

“Not yet.”

His expression tightened.

I stood.

“I think you should leave.”

Kael looked up.

“Serena.”

“Please.”

He remained seated for a moment.

Then he stood.

I walked toward the door.

He followed.

At the entrance, he stopped.

“You’re upset.”

I turned.

“Really? What gave it away?”

He sighed.

“That information doesn’t prove your father is responsible for anything.”

“Then why did you look at me like that?”

“Because the account is connected to his company.”

“That doesn’t mean he authorized the withdrawal.”

“I know.”

I stared at him.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he said, “I’m not your enemy, Serena.”

I looked away.

“I don’t know what you are.”

The words came out quieter than I intended.

Kael didn’t answer immediately.

When I looked back, something in his expression had changed.

He looked almost hurt.

I hadn’t expected that.

He reached for the door.

“Marcus will stay downstairs. Call me if you need anything.”

I nodded.

He stepped into the hallway.

Then stopped.

“Serena?”

“What?”

“Whatever we find out about your father, I won’t hide it from you.”

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

He held my gaze for another second.

Then he left.

I closed the door.

For a long time, I stood there, staring at the empty hallway through the peephole.

I wanted to believe him.

That was the problem.

I wanted to believe Kael Blackwell, a man I’d known for less than three days, more than I wanted to believe my own father.

And I hated myself a little for it.

⸻

At seven fifteen that evening, I received a text from my mother.

MOM:

Did you tell anyone what we discussed?

I stared at the message.

Then typed:

ME:

No.

I hesitated.

Deleted it.

Then typed again.

ME:

Why?

Her response came almost immediately.

MOM:

Your father knows I visited you.

I sat up.

Another message appeared.

He wants you home tomorrow.

I stared at the screen.

Then my phone rang.

Dad.

I let it ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then I answered.

“Hello?”

“Serena.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

“We need to talk.”

I closed my eyes.

“About what?”

A pause.

Then—

“About Vivienne.”

I sat completely still.

For eight years, my father had refused to discuss her.

Now, suddenly, he wanted to talk.

“Why?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said something that made my blood run cold.

“Because there’s something your mother hasn’t told you.”