Chapter three: left with nothing

Serena’s pov

“I don’t want to see your filthy, broke self around me or my wife ever again.”

Antonio’s voice cuts through everything.

The guards grab my arms before I can react. Their hands are firm, unyielding, like I’m already a problem they’ve been warned about. My body jerks forward as they pull me, my heels scraping against the polished floor.

I stumble.

Someone laughs.

People don’t pretend anymore. They stare. Some lift their phones openly, angling for a better shot. I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass…hair messy, face wet, eyes too wide.

Antonio raises his voice deliberately, projecting.

“She drained me for years,” he says, shaking his head like I’m a cautionary tale. “Broke, Useless and Dead weight.”

My chest tightens. I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Disposable,” he adds, amused.

I twist my head back over my shoulder, desperate, stupid, hoping he’ll look at me one last time.

He doesn’t.

He grabs Isabella, wrapping his arm around her waist .He gives her a soft, lingering peck on the cheek, taking his time.

Isabella smiles sheepishly…

Soft, Sweet and Victorious.

The guards steer me toward the exit. The glass doors stand ahead, clear and unforgiving.

I look back one last time.

Antonio has already turned away.

The doors slide shut behind me.

The sound is quiet.

Final.

Outside, the city crashes into me. There was a buzz, people moving about as if the world hadn't stopped .I stand there for a heartbeat, clutching the divorce papers so tightly they bend, then I run.

I don’t remember how I get back to the hospital.

I know my lungs burn. I know my hands shake so badly I almost drop my phone twice. I know people stare as I push past them, but I don’t care.

My mother’s room is dim when I rush in. She's lying there, all pale and fragile, with her chest barely moving up and down. The Machines are quietly buzzing by her, totally unbothered.

I grab her hand.

It’s cold.

“Mom,” I whisper. “I’m here.”

My throat closes. I force a smile she can’t see. “They’re going to start the surgery. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The lie feels heavy in my mouth.

The doctor steps in quietly. The same careful expression. The same distance.

“I’m ready to make the deposit,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “Please. Just start the surgery.”

At the billing desk, my hands shake as I swipe my card.

Beep.

Declined.

“That’s wrong,” I say. “Try again.”

Beep.

Declined.

My heart starts to race. I pull out another card. Then another.

Declined.

Declined.

“There has to be a mistake,” I say, my voice cracking. “I have savings. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says, gentle but firm. “We can’t proceed without payment.”

Panic crawls up my throat, thick and suffocating.

A billing clerk types something, then pauses.

“Mrs. Romano,” she says carefully. “Your accounts are frozen.”

Frozen.

“What do you mean frozen?” I whisper.

She hesitates. “All funds were transferred earlier today. To a foreign account.”

The room tilts.

My hands tremble as I check my balance.

Zero.

I stumble back, barely managing to get out of the hospital before the walls feel like they’re closing in. I don’t even remember crossing the street before I’m inside the bank, slamming my hands on the counter.

“I need answers,” I say. “Now.”

The accountant looks up, then freezes when she sees my name.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Mrs. Romano. Your husband was here earlier.”

My stomach drops. “He what?”

“He authorized the transfers.”

“That’s impossible,” I say. “I didn’t sign anything.”

She slides a folder toward me. “The documents are here.”

I read every page.

The signatures are close but wrong. The dates were altered. Sloppy.

“They’re forged,” I whisper.

She doesn’t meet my eyes.

My hands shake as I dial Antonio.

He answers almost immediately.

“What do you want?” he says, irritated.

“My savings,” I say, my voice breaking. “You took my savings. Why?”

There’s a pause.

Then he laughs.

“Because I could,” he says. “They’re gone, Serena. Deal with it.”

“You had no right,” I say. “That money was mine. I need it. My mother…”

“That’s not my problem anymore,” he cuts in. “You should’ve thought about that before embarrassing me.”

My chest tightens. “You planned this.”

“Yes,” he says calmly. “And if I were you, I’d stop calling before you make things worse.”

I hear movement on the other end. A soft sound. Fabric. A breath.

Then the phone shifts.

Isabella’s voice replaces his.

“Don’t call again,” she says calmly. “We know where your mother is.”

My blood turns cold.

“Enjoy your miserable, lonely life,” she adds softly.

The call ends.

I stand there in the middle of the bank lobby as people brush past me like I don’t exist.

I walk outside.

The sun is too bright. The noise too loud.

The world spins.

My knees buckle.

And this time, my body finally gives up.