All Chapters of Betrayed by my Ex: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Serena"Mommy, when is Daddy going to come home? It's been a long time I’ve seen him last," Liam, my three-year-old son, asked as I wiped the glitter from the park off his face."Tonight. Daddy will be home tonight, it’s your birthday, remember?" I cooed, kissing his forehead—just as the sound of a car speeding toward us cut through the soft hush of the afternoon.For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still. Children’s laughter dulled into the background, the rustle of leaves held its breath, and all I could hear was that engine—guttural, fast, hungry. My head whipped toward the street that ran parallel to the park.The car was coming too quickly, a dark blur against the gray drizzle. Something about the way it swerved made my stomach drop."Liam—"I didn’t have time to finish. The squeal of tires tore through the air, and then the crunch, the violent shattering of glass, the world turning upside down in a blink. Metal shrieked against metal, my body slammed forward, then sideways, the

Serena And then the edges of everything softened. The light went wrong and the machines hummed like distant thunder. I clung to his hand until my fingers loosened and the last thought that fluttered through was a single stupid, aching gratitude, that I had not been completely alone.The rest was a slow, beautiful nothing—a darkness that smelled faintly of leather and rain and the remembered weight of a small, sleeping body.When I slipped away, it was into the steady press of another person’s promise......................The memory did not come gently. It tore through me, jagged and cruel, the way only certain nights could. I had begged my mind for silence, begged my body to rest, but instead, I found myself back there—back at the Caldwell-Warrick dinner, under glittering chandeliers and crystal light, where the world had laughed quietly at me.I had worn gold that night.A satin dress, smooth against my skin, the color rich enough that I thought—foolishly—that maybe I could shine.

The rain hadn’t stopped since the funeral. It was like the sky didn’t know when to quit. I walked beside Lucas through the downpour, his coat draped over my shoulders, my shoes sinking into the mud with every step. Reporters stood by their cars, cameras hidden under umbrellas. None of them said a word, but their silence was louder than anything they could’ve printed.Lucas’s house was quiet, too quiet. It smelled like coffee and old wood, a place that had seen better days. He opened the door and motioned me inside without a word. I sat down on the couch, and he disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of his kettle filled the silence until it almost felt safe again.When he came back, he handed me a mug and said, “Drink.”I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the energy to.The tea burned my throat, but it seemed more like it was exactly what I needed to make me feel something other than hollow.“How are you holding up?” he asked after a while.I let out a shaky breath. “I’m still breathing

Serena’s POV“Fuck!” The scream ripped out of me before I could think, before I could breathe. The room spun, and every syllable of he’s dead clawed through my skull like broken glass.“This is not the time for you to fall apart, Serena. This isn’t helping us. It’s not getting us anywhere.” Lucas moved toward me like he was approaching a ticking bomb.“Fall apart?” My voice shot up, cracking like something inside me finally snapped. “You think this isn’t the time for me to fall apart?”He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Which somehow made it worse.“Someone killed my son,” I said, my voice shaking so hard it barely sounded like mine. “Someone murdered my child. They would’ve killed me too. And I still can’t figure out who sent them. And you’re really standing here telling me to hold it together?” I shoved at his chest, fists weak but furious. “Are you insane?”“Serena.” His hands closed around my wrists gently, guiding them down before I hurt myself more than him. He tilted my face up wit

Serena's POV Lucas didn’t say a word on the drive. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against his thigh like he was arguing with himself in his head.I stared out the window. Different country or not, grief still followed like a shadow that refused to mind its business.When we pulled into an underground garage, he exhaled like he’d been holding the breath since we left the apartment.“We’re taking the back elevator,” he said. “Less people.”He didn’t give me time to argue. He just took my hand and guided me toward a quiet hallway tucked behind security doors and tinted glass. Everything smelled like money and disinfectant.Inside the private elevator, the air felt tighter than the space.“Remember,” he said, voice low, “you stay close.”I rolled my eyes, but my pulse was climbing fast. “Relax. I’m not planning to dive out the window.”“You say that now,” he muttered.The elevator dinged, doors sliding open into a minimalist, marble-walled private lobby. His