Chapter two: stripped in broad day light

Serena’s pov

I don’t move.

I think maybe my body hasn’t caught up to what just happened. Antonio’s last words still hang in the air, sharp and unfinished, like he cut a wire and walked away before the sparks could die down.

I was just about to end this.

Someone says my name.

“Serena, are you okay?”

The voice seems distant , like it’s coming through water. I blink and realize I’m still standing just inside Antonio’s office floor, right where my bag hit the ground. The glass walls stretch around me on all sides…transparent, spotless, unforgiving. I can see everything, and worse, everyone can see me.

Executives hover near their offices. Assistants pause mid-step. A few people pretend to be busy, eyes glued to tablets or phones that aren’t fooling anyone. Others don’t even bother pretending. They just watch.

I’m still clutching my phone in one hand, the screen dark, my thumb hovering uselessly where I kept redialing his number earlier today. I don’t remember lowering it. I don’t remember breathing.

Whispers ripple through the space. Soft, quick, poisonous.

No one meets my eyes.

I feel wrong here. Like I walked into a room where the rules changed while I wasn’t looking. My dress suddenly feels too simple, my shoes too worn. My tears, God!!!, my tears are still streaking my face, hot and impossible to hide.

I lift my head because I feel movement more than I see it.

Antonio is walking toward me.

Not rushing. Not concerned.

He looks relaxed. Confident. Like this is just another meeting he’s late for. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not meant for me. It slides past me, directed at the people watching, the ones who matter now.

My stomach twists.

He stops a few feet away.

Doesn’t touch me, he doesn’t lower his voice nor even say my name, this sent shivers down my spine .

Instead, he turns slightly and gestures behind him, casual, practiced.

Isabella steps forward.

She looks exactly like she did in the maternity ward, except now she belongs here. Cream dress, perfect hair, calm smile. Her belly is unmistakable, round and prominent beneath her hand.

Antonio’s hand settles on her stomach.

Possessive and Proud.

“This is Isabella Black,” he says clearly, his voice carrying through the glass-walled floor. “My wife.”

The word hits me harder than any slap could.

Wife???

My mind blanks, like someone pulled the plug. I stare at his mouth, waiting for him to correct himself, to laugh, to say this is some sick misunderstanding.

Nothing comes.

Isabella looks at me, her eyes skim my face, my clothes, my tears, and something like satisfaction flickers there. Not triumph. She’s past that.

She’s already won.

“And,” Antonio adds casually, like he’s sharing a bonus detail, “she’s carrying my baby.”

The room tilts.

I grab the edge of a nearby desk to keep myself upright. My fingers slide against the smooth surface, useless.

“This… this is a joke,” I say quietly. My voice barely carries, but the silence makes it loud anyway. “Right?”

Antonio’s smile shifts.

It turns sharp. Mocking.

He leans in just enough that I can smell his cologne, the one I bought him years ago when we couldn’t afford it. His voice drops, but not enough. Everyone can still hear.

“You always did struggle with reality, Serena,” he says. “That’s one of your many flaws.”

My chest tightens. “Antonio”

“I settled for you,” he continues, like he’s reciting facts from a report. “You were convenient. Obedient. You didn’t ask for much. You knew your place.”

Each word lands heavy and deliberate.

“You embarrassed me,” he says. “In elite circles, you stood out and not in a good way. You didn’t belong.”

I shake my head, tears spilling faster now. “That’s not true. We built everything together. I—”

“You supported me because you had nothing else,” he cuts in. “Don’t romanticize it.”

He straightens slightly, gesturing between us. “Isabella is my equal. She understands the world I’m in. She enhances my image.”

Isabella’s fingers curl lightly around his sleeve, subtle but claiming.

“And my promotion?” Antonio goes on. “Romano Holdings didn’t finally take me seriously because of hard work alone. It came because of her. Because of her family background .”

The truth sinks in slowly, cruelly.

Everything I gave up. My job. My savings. My pride. All of it meant nothing.

Tears slip down my chin, unstoppable, humiliating. I swipe at them, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone sees.

Antonio doesn’t stop talking.

He straightens fully now, his voice rising, projecting. “Serena Romano is no longer associated with me or this company.”

A ripple of attention sharpens. Phones shift in hands. Someone actually lifts theirs, angling for a better view.

“She’s a liability,” he says. “A financial burden. I can’t reach the top with dead weight dragging me down.”

Isabella’s hand tightens on his arm, her nails pressing into the fabric.

I feel eyes everywhere. Judging me like I was a piece of trash . I become painfully aware of how I’m standing, how I’m shaking, how small I must look next to them.

Antonio reaches into a folder he’s holding and pulls out a stack of papers.

He shoves them into my hands.

I almost drop them. My fingers are shaking so badly the pages crinkle.

I don’t need to read them.

The word “divorce “jumps out immediately, bold and unmistakable.

My breath stutters.

I look up at him, stunned. “My mother,” I whisper. “She’s in surgery.”

For a split second, something flickers across his face.

Then it hardens.

“That’s no longer my problem,” he says.

Two security guards step closer.

Phones rise higher.

Isabella leans in and whispers something to Antonio. I can’t hear it, but he nods once, already stepping back, already creating distance like I’m contagious.

The room feels smaller. The glass walls close in.

“Escort her out,” Antonio orders coldly.

My grip tightens on the divorce papers as the world narrows to that one command, and I realize, with sick clarity, that I have never been more alone in my life.