CHAPTER 3

Serafina Moncrieff POV

The morning air was razor-cold as I stepped out of the private boutique hotel Lucian had stashed me in overnight. My skin felt raw, my eyes heavy from hours of crying in silence for my mother. I was still wearing a borrowed silk blouse and dark trousers—clothes arranged by Lucian’s team to replace my ruined gala gown.

I hadn't slept a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could hear was Doctor Vance’s cold voice telling me my mother was gone, followed by the terrifying sight of Lucian Kensington stripping away every last bit of my life.

A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb the second I reached the pavement. The rear door glided open, and there he sat—Lucian Kensington, looking impeccably cruel in a custom navy suit, scrolling through his phone like he hadn't completely shattered my existence twelve hours ago.

"Get in," he said without even looking up.

I hesitated for a beat before sliding into the leather interior. The scent of dark amber and expensive leather filled my lungs, instantly making my pulse spike. "Where are we going? Is my mother’s arrangement—"

"Handled," Lucian interrupted smoothly, finally glancing at me with those sharp, impenetrable eyes. "The private service at Trinity Church is scheduled for tomorrow morning. No press, no creditors. Just as promised."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to look straight ahead. "Thank you."

"Save your gratitude, Serafina. You're working for it today," he replied, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous tone that sent chills down my spine. "We’re heading to Kensington Tower. The NYPD’s Financial Crimes Division issued a warrant early this morning, tipped off by an anonymous source before I could scrub the paper trail."

My heart did a violent flip inside my chest. "A warrant? You said you had this under control!"

"I do," Lucian said calmly, adjusting his cufflinks. "The police are waiting at my headquarters to take you in. The press has already gathered outside like sharks sensing blood in the water. They know the heiress of Moncrieff is facing fraud charges."

Panicking, I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket. "Lucian, if I get arrested, my life is completely ruined! Everyone will know—"

Lucian’s eyes flicked down to where my hand gripped his sleeve, then back up to my face. The sheer heat of his gaze made me freeze.

"Let go of me," he commanded softly.

I pulled my hand back as if I’d been burned, my cheeks flushing.

"You're not going to jail, Serafina," he said, leaning closer until I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. "Not unless you mess up the script. When we get out of this car, you hold your head high, keep your mouth shut, and let me handle the media."

Before I could ask another question, the Maybach slowed down and turned the corner onto Fifth Avenue.

The scene outside was absolute chaos. Hundreds of reporters, camera crews, and flashing bulbs were packed densely behind police barricades outside the glass entrance of Kensington Tower. Two marked NYPD cruisers were parked near the steps, sirens flashing red and blue against the gray morning sky.

This is it, I thought, my chest tightening so hard I could barely draw breath. This is where my entire fake world comes crashing down in front of the whole country.

The car came to a complete stop.

A sea of press photographers swarmed the windows immediately, lenses pressed against the tinted glass, flashbulbs popping in a blinding frenzy.

"Remember," Lucian whispered near my ear, his breath warm against my icy skin. "You belong to me now. Act like it."

The driver opened the door, and the roar of the crowd rushed in like a tidal wave.

"Miss Moncrieff! Are the fraud allegations true?"

"Serafina, did you forge tens of millions in offshore bonds?"

"Are you being taken into federal custody today?"

Microphones were shoved forward as I stepped out onto the cold concrete. My legs felt like lead, but I forced my spine straight, drawing on every ounce of high-society posture my mother had drilled into me since childhood. Don't look weak. Never let them see you bleed.

Two NYPD detectives immediately stepped forward, holding a set of silver handcuffs. "Serafina Moncrieff, you are under arrest for grand larceny and felony wire fraud—"

Before the officer could reach my wrists, a large, warm hand clamped firmly around my waist, pulling me back directly against a broad, solid chest.

Lucian stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his own. The raw, commanding power he radiated instantly silenced the nearest wave of reporters.

"Put those away, Detective," Lucian’s voice cut through the noise, cool, sharp, and dripping with authority.

The lead detective frowned, holding up a piece of paper. "Mr. Kensington, step back. We have a signed warrant from the District Attorney—"

"And I have the original credit agreement signed by Miss Moncrieff," Lucian interjected, pulling a thick document stamped with official corporate seals from his coat and handing it to the officer. "The ten million dollars in question was not fraudulent expenditure. It was a private short-term credit line extended directly from Kensington Capital as part of our personal asset merger."

The detective scanned the document, his forehead furrowing in confusion. "A merger?"

Lucian turned slightly, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. The unexpected closeness made my breath catch in my throat. His hand resting on my hip felt possessive, heavy, and undeniably real.

He looked directly into the swarm of flashing news cameras with a cold, triumphant smirk.

"Miss Moncrieff didn't steal a single cent from my firm," Lucian declared, his voice echoing across the plaza. "She is my fiancée. The money was transferred into her accounts with my full authorization as part of our upcoming marriage settlement."

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd, followed by an aggressive frenzy of camera shutters.

"Fiancée?!" a reporter shouted. "Mr. Kensington, is this official?"

"Effective immediately," Lucian replied smoothly, not giving the press a single second to process the bomb he had just dropped. "Any further attempt by the DA or the media to slander my future wife will be met with a billion-dollar defamation suit against your respective networks."

Without waiting for another question, Lucian tightened his grip on my waist and guided me past the stunned police officers, pushing open the heavy glass doors of Kensington Tower.

The glass doors shut behind us, cutting off the deafening roar of the media outside, leaving us in the echoing, marble silence of the skyscraper's private lobby.

I stood there, gasping for air, my head spinning from the absolute madness that had just taken place. I looked up at Lucian, whose face had already returned to its usual cold, calculating mask.

"You just lied to the entire world," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Lucian looked down at me, his dark eyes gleamed with a dangerous, dark amusement.

"I didn't lie, Serafina," he said quietly, stepping closer until I was backed up against the polished marble pillar behind me. "I just changed the terms of your survival."