Chapter 4: Ghosts and Gold Diggers

Seraphina’s POV

“You cannot be serious right now.” Zara’s fork hovers halfway to her mouth, loaded with Caesar salad that she’s forgotten about in her shock. “Aurelius Kingsley, THE Aurelius Kingsley, told you that you looked at him like he was just a man?”

I slide lower in our corner booth at Meridian, hoping the other diners can’t hear my best friend’s increasingly animated interrogation. “Keep your voice down. Half of Manhattan already thinks I’m some gold-digging social climber.”

“Girl, have you seen the comments?” Zara pulls out her phone with the enthusiasm of someone about to deliver devastating news. “Because I’ve been down this rabbit hole since 6 AM, and honey, it’s a whole circus.”

My stomach drops. “How bad?”

“Well, there’s the usual ‘gold digger’ crowd, obviously. But then there’s the conspiracy theorists who think you’re a long-lost relative because, quote, ‘why else would America’s most eligible bachelor look at some random wedding planner like that?’”

“Random wedding planner?” I protest.

“Then there’s my personal favorite—the theory that you’re secretly married to someone else and this is all an elaborate PR stunt to throw off the media.” She scrolls through her phone, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, and apparently someone recognized you from the Henderson wedding last month, and now they’re calling you the ‘Fairy Godmother of Manhattan’s Elite.’”

Despite everything, I laugh. “That’s actually kind of flattering.”

“It gets better. There’s a whole thread dedicated to analyzing your body language in that photo. Apparently, you have ‘mysterious energy’ and ‘the posture of someone with secrets.’”

“I was standing normally!”

“Sera, baby, you were standing next to a billionaire looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. That’s not normal. That’s intriguing.” Zara finally takes her bite of salad, chewing thoughtfully. “Which brings me to my next question, why aren’t you more excited about this?”

The question hits deeper than she probably intended. I pick at my grilled salmon, suddenly not hungry. “Because I’ve learned not to get excited about men who seem too good to be true.”

“This isn’t just some man, Sera. This is Aurelius Kingsley.” Zara sets down her fork and leans forward. “Do you know what his net worth is? What kind of power he has? The connections he could make for your business?”

“I’m not interested in using people for their connections, Zara.”

“I’m not saying use him. I’m saying be smart about this opportunity. Professional networking aside, from what I can tell, he’s never been linked to any scandals. No messy divorces, no abuse allegations, no financial improprieties. He’s clean, Sera. Suspiciously clean for someone with that much power.”

“Suspiciously clean is still suspicious,” I point out. “Rich men don’t get to where they are by being saints.”

“Fair point.” She takes another bite, studying me carefully. “But you’re considering the job, aren’t you? Because the budget alone…”

“The budget is incredible,” I admit. “Life-changing, actually. But working that closely with him for six weeks? Daily meetings, site visits, decision-making sessions? That’s a lot of exposure to someone I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand about him?”

How does he see through me so easily? Why does his presence make me feel both safe and terrified? What kind of pain put that guarded look in his eyes when he thinks no one is watching?

“Everything,” I say instead. “He’s… intense. Like he can see things about me that I haven’t told anyone.”

“Maybe he’s just perceptive. Or maybe—” Zara pauses, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Maybe he recognizes something familiar.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, successful people often have stories, Sera. Reasons they drive themselves so hard. Maybe he sees something in you because he’s been there himself.”

Before I can ask her to elaborate, my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number:

Saw the photos online. Looks like you found someone who can actually afford you. Congratulations on the upgrade. – M

The blood drains from my face. Marcus. After three years of silence, he chooses now to crawl out of whatever rock he’s been hiding under.

“What is it?” Zara notices my expression immediately. “Sera, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I show her the text, and her face transforms from concern to fury in record time.

“That piece of—” She catches herself, glancing around the restaurant. “He has some nerve. After what he put you through, he has the audacity to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I delete the text with shaking fingers. “He’s just trying to get under my skin.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. Because Marcus’s text hits exactly where I’m most vulnerable—the fear that maybe I am just looking for someone who can “afford” me. That maybe my interest in Aurelius’s job offer has more to do with his bank account than the professional opportunity.

“Sera,” Zara says gently, “you know that’s not who you are, right? You turned down that pharmaceutical heiress’s son last month because he made dismissive comments about your career. You’ve never chosen money over integrity.”

“I know, but—”

“Seraphina?”

The voice that interrupts our conversation is deep, familiar, and completely unexpected. I look up to find a man standing beside our table, and for a moment, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with skin the color of warm caramel and eyes that used to look at me like I hung the moon. Older now, more filled out, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that speaks of success and confidence. But unmistakably, impossibly…

“Ryan?” The name comes out as barely a whisper.

Ryan Williams. My childhood friend, my first love, the boy who promised me the world when we were seventeen and disappeared from my life when college pulled us in different directions.

“It is you.” His smile is exactly the same—crooked on the left side, lighting up his entire face. “I can’t believe it. After all these years.”

I stand up so quickly that I nearly knock over my water glass, and suddenly I’m seventeen again, giddy and nervous and completely forgetting that I’m a successful adult woman in the middle of an expensive restaurant.

“Ryan, oh my God, I can’t believe—how are you? What are you doing here? You look—” I catch myself before I can say amazing and possibly make this encounter even more complicated.

“You look incredible, Sera. Like, really incredible.” His eyes take in my burgundy wrap dress, my carefully styled hair, the confidence I’ve built over the past few years. “Success looks good on you.”

I’m vaguely aware that Zara is studying this interaction with the intensity of a scientist observing a potentially dangerous experiment, but right now I can’t focus on anything except the surreal reality that Ryan Williams is standing in front of me.

“Ryan, this is my best friend Zara. Zara, this is Ryan—we grew up together.”

Zara’s smile could freeze water. “How nice.”

Ryan notices the chill but focuses on me, his attention warm and familiar and complicated. “I was just having a business lunch when I saw you and thought—no way. It couldn’t be little Sera Cole, but…”

“Little Sera Cole?” I laugh, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “I’m twenty-six now, Ryan. Not exactly little anymore.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Something in his voice makes me acutely aware that we’re standing closer than strictly appropriate for former friends catching up. “God, do you remember when we used to talk about what our lives would be like when we grew up?”

The question opens a door I thought I’d sealed shut years ago.

“You wanted to be a doctor,” I say. “Pediatric surgery, specifically.”

“And you wanted to create magic for people. Make their dreams come true.” His smile turns nostalgic. “Looks like we both got what we wanted.”

“You became a doctor?”

“Pediatric surgeon at Mount Sinai.” There’s quiet pride in his voice. “Just finished my fellowship last year.”

“That’s incredible, Ryan. Really.”

“What about you? I mean, I can see you’re successful, but what exactly do you do?”

“I’m an event planner. Wedding planner, specifically. I own my own company—Enchanted Moments.”

“Enchanted Moments,” he repeats, and something in his expression softens. “You always did believe in fairy tales.”

“Remember how we used to plan our own wedding?” Ryan continues, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. “You had it all figured out—the venue, the flowers, even the song for our first dance.”

My breath catches. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything, Sera.”

“Well, this is all very touching,” Zara interjects, her voice sharp enough to cut glass, “but we should probably—”

“Actually,” Ryan says, still looking at me, “I was wondering if you might want to catch up properly. Maybe dinner? Next week Tuesday. I know this little place in Brooklyn—remember Tony’s? It’s still there.”

The invitation hangs in the air like a challenge.

“I…” I start.

“Think about it,” Ryan says, handing me his business card.

“I should get back to my lunch,” he adds.

After he leaves, Zara stares at me. “So. That happened.”

“That happened.”

“Sera,” she says quietly, “how do you know when you’re being smart versus when you’re being a coward?”

“I think,” she continues, “you’re smart when you choose what’s best for your future. And you’re a coward when you choose what’s safest for your past.”

The words settle between us like a verdict I’m not ready to face.

He didn’t cross my boundaries.

Somehow, that frightened me more than if he had.