Chapter 2

Seraphina's POV

The world stopped.

Sterling's voice echoed in my skull.

Fuck yes—ride my cock just like that—

No.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

My chest cracked open.

I couldn't breathe.

"Sera?" Wren's voice came from somewhere far away. "Sera, what's wrong? You're shaking—"

The tears came without warning. Hot. Violent. Streaming down my face as my body folded in on itself.

"Sera! Talk to me!"

I couldn't speak. Couldn't form words. All I could hear was Vivienne's breathless, triumphant laugh. That repressed little virgin—I bet her cunt is dry as a desert—

Wren grabbed my phone from where it had fallen.

Silence.

Then: "What the fuck."

Her voice was ice. Pure, murderous ice.

"That fucking bitch." Wren's knuckles went white around my phone. "That backstabbing, two-faced whore. And Sterling—I'm going to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat—"

She yanked the steering wheel. The car swerved violently, tires screeching as she made an illegal U-turn.

"Wren—what are you—"

"We're going to his house." Her jaw was set, eyes blazing. "Right now. I'm catching those two with my own eyes, and then I'm going to make them wish they'd never been born."

"Wren, wait—"

"No." She floored the accelerator. "Absolutely not. I've watched you shrink yourself for two years, Sera. Two years of being the perfect girlfriend while that golden-boy piece of shit apparently can't keep his cock out of the mafia princess. This ends tonight."

I pressed my hand over my mouth, swallowing a sob.

Was this real? Had Sterling been fucking Vivienne behind my back this whole time? Every kiss, every promise, every patient smile when I pushed him away—had it all been a lie?

You wore a sage green dress to the freshman welcome party.

His eyes had been so warm. So sincere.

I remember everything about you, Sera.

How could the same man who said those words also—

The car jerked to a stop.

Sterling's townhouse loomed ahead. Dark windows. Empty driveway.

No one was home.

"Son of a bitch." Wren slammed her palm against the steering wheel. "Where the hell is he?"

She was already dialing before I could stop her.

"Wren, don't—"

"Speaker phone." She hit the button. "I want you to hear this lying bastard try to explain himself."

One ring. Two.

"Hey, babe." Sterling's voice—warm, easy, completely normal. "What's up? Everything okay?"

Something cold settled in my stomach.

"Where are you?" Wren demanded.

A pause. "Wren? Why do you have Sera's phone?"

"Answer the question, Sterling."

"I'm setting up for Sera's party? The surprise one? At the venue? What's going on—is Sera okay?"

Wren's eyes met mine. Doubt flickered across her face.

"Prove it," she said flatly.

"What?"

"Video call. Right now."

Another pause. Then: "Okay... hold on."

The screen flickered. Sterling's face appeared. Behind him, I could see a decorated space. Balloons. Streamers. A banner that read HAPPY 20TH BIRTHDAY SERA.

"See?" He panned the camera around. Caterers in white uniforms. Tables covered in elegant linens. A champagne tower glittering under warm lights. "I've been here all afternoon. What's this about?"

My heart stuttered.

What?

"Sera?" Sterling's voice softened as the camera returned to his face. "Baby, are you there? Why are you suddenly asking where I am? What's wrong? What are you suspecting?"

I stared at the screen. At his open, honest expression. At the party he'd apparently spent hours preparing.

Was I wrong?

The recording played again in my mind. Sterling's groans. Vivienne's moans. The wet, obscene sounds of—

But he was here. On video. At a party venue.

Which meant either the recording was fake... or it wasn't from today.

Vivienne.

Of course.

That venomous snake had probably been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. What better day to destroy me than my birthday?

She'd done this before. The "accidentally" spilled coffee on my white blouse before my presentation. The whispered rumors that I'd slept my way into Sterling's attention. The social media post "joking" about charity cases who didn't know their place.

And I'd taken it. All of it. Smiled through bleeding teeth because I couldn't afford to fight back.

Because of Lorenzo Vitale.

Everyone knew the story. Twelve years ago, his underboss had died saving his life. Lorenzo had adopted his daughter and raised her as his own. Vivienne Vitale. The princess of New York's underworld.

Rumor said Lorenzo would burn the city down for her. That he'd killed a man who'd merely insulted her at a charity gala. That his love for his adopted daughter was the one soft spot in an otherwise impenetrable armor of cruelty.

No one crossed Vivienne. Not if they valued their lives.

And I had no one to protect me.

My mother died giving birth to me. My father... I barely remembered his face. Just a warm hand on my hair, "I love you, stellina. That's why I'm doing this."

Then he'd left me at Santa Maria Orphanage and never came back.

For years, I'd waited by the window. Watching the gate. Believing he'd return for me.

He never did.

I didn't even know what he did for a living. Whether he was alive or dead. Whether he'd ever thought of me again after he walked away.

The Ashfords adopted me when I was eight. Pulled me from that cold Italian orphanage and brought me to Manhattan, dressed me in designer clothes, enrolled me in the best schools. They gave me everything.

Everything except love.

To them, I was an investment. A charitable act that looked good in society pages.

If I caused trouble—if I embarrassed them—if I gave them any reason to regret their investment—

I can't be abandoned again.

The thought gripped my throat like a fist.

I couldn't fight Vivienne. Couldn't risk the scandal, the attention, the possibility of the Ashfords deciding I was more trouble than I was worth.

So I'd swallowed every insult. Smiled through every humiliation. Let her win again and again because losing was safer than fighting.

"Sera?" Sterling's voice pulled me back. "Baby, talk to me. You're scaring me."

I looked at his face on the screen. Those sea-blue eyes, creased with concern. That perfect golden-boy smile, slightly worried now.

Was the recording fake?

Vivienne had access to money, power, resources. Synthesizing audio wasn't impossible. And she hated me enough to do it.

But why? Why go this far?

Because she wants to destroy you, a voice whispered. Because she's always wanted to destroy you, and you've never understood why.

"I'm fine." The words came out steadier than I felt. "I just... I really want to see you."

Sterling's face softened. "I want to see you too. Get here soon, okay? I can't wait to give you your present."

The call ended.

Wren stared at me. "You don't actually believe him."

"I don't know what I believe." I wiped my face with trembling hands. "But I need to see him. In person. I need to know."

She was quiet for a long moment. Then she put the car in drive.

"Fine. But I'm watching him like a hawk. And if I see one goddamn sign that he's lying—"

"I know."

The venue was in one of Manhattan's most exclusive neighborhoods. As we pulled up, I noticed the unusual number of people milling outside.

Cameras. Press badges. Recording equipment.

"Why are there media here?" I asked.

Wren craned her neck. "Must be some big shot at a nearby event. This neighborhood's crawling with celebrities and politicians."

That made sense. The ultra-wealthy attracted attention like magnets.

We parked and walked toward the venue entrance. My heels clicked against the pavement, each step bringing me closer to an answer I wasn't sure I wanted.

Please let the recording be fake. Please let this all be a cruel joke.

The doors opened into a warmly lit space. Soft music played. Elegant decorations sparkled under crystal chandeliers.

And there was Sterling.

He stood with his back to the champagne tower, talking to one of the caterers.

At the sound of our entrance, he turned.

His eyes found me.

"Sera."

He crossed the room in four long strides, pulled me into his arms, pressed his lips to my cheek, my temple, the corner of my mouth.

"God, you're beautiful tonight." His voice was rough against my ear. "This dress... you're trying to kill me."

His hands splayed across my lower back, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric, the solid warmth of his chest against my breasts.

I wanted to melt into him. Wanted to believe this was real.

But Vivienne's mocking laughter echoed in my skull.

That frigid bitch—

Wren cleared her throat loudly. "Sterling. We need to talk about—"

"Not now." I grabbed her arm, squeezing hard. "Please."

She shot me a furious look but fell silent.

I couldn't do this. Not here, not tonight. If the recording was real, I'd deal with it tomorrow. But if it was fake—if Vivienne had manufactured this whole thing just to ruin my birthday—

I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Sorry." I forced a smile. "Wren's just being overprotective."

Sterling laughed, easy and warm. "That's why I like her. Someone needs to look out for my girl." He kissed my forehead, then pulled back with a grin. "Wait here. I have something for you."

He returned moments later, carrying a crystal flute filled with something pale pink and sparkling.

"Happy birthday, Sera." His smile was radiant. "I made this myself. "

The glass was cold in my fingers. Tiny bubbles rose through the rose-colored liquid.

"What is it?"

"A secret." He winked. "But I promise you'll love it."

I stared at the drink. At Sterling's perfect, patient smile.

At the man who'd waited two years for me.

"Drink," Sterling urged softly. "It's your birthday. Let me spoil you."

I raised the glass to my lips.