Serena Hart Novels & Stories

“I won't fire you. But you'll become the busiest employee in this company, and by the time I'm done with you—” He freezes. “Sweet mother of God,” he breathes. I turn to see what he’s looking at. Strutting across the lot is Serena. Tight pencil skirt, cropped blazer cinched at the waist, and killer heels. Waves of dark hair bounce around her shoulders, glossy and full. She pulls off her oversized sunglasses in one smooth motion, stopping when she sees me. “Sloane!” she calls. “Over here.” “Be right there!” I say before turning back to Hunter, who seems far gone.

But i still picked the call anyways. "Hi, please are you by anyways, Miss Selene Woods?" - A feminine voice came from the other end, soft, polite and yet, straight to the point. "Yes, i am she!!. How may i be of help to you?" - I replied in a wary tone. "Great!!. My name is Anne Moreau, i'm a manager at Livelia entertainment and also a friend of the professor." - She introduced herself briefly, her tone filled with strict professionalism. " Oh..." - I gasped.

She felt relieved when she closed the doors and went back to her seat. Like any other assassin, she had done her research. She was iconic in the fashion industry and had her own fashion line and was an investor in many popular cloth and shoe brands. She was rich, famous and was head over heels for Levi Wushi. However, even though she had everything she could ever want, she couldn't get any love or affection from Mr. Wushi.

#Livia’s POV “Forgive the intrusion, Lord Hartwell,” a soft, sweet voice called out. A young woman stepped into the room carrying a small wooden tray with a glass of lukewarm water and a folded linen cloth. She wore the clean white and blue robes of a junior healer. Her light honey brown hair was pulled back neatly, framing a youthful, strikingly kind face with bright, compassionate green eyes. Serena. My breath caught in my throat. I braced myself for the sudden surge of hatred I expected to feel – the fury toward the woman whose testimony had sealed my death sentence, the healer who had claimed my herbs were used to poison Alpha Magnus.

But I had learned something in the ashes of my old life, silence was the same as surrender. I straightened my shoulders and whispered to the wind, “You won’t get that from me.” ~~~~~~ Evelyn Hart sat at her desk by herself in a poorly lit newsroom and typed another piece with a smirk on her face. Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown contact. She opened it and froze. “Good job. But you’ve gone too far. Stop now, or you’ll end up like her parents.” Her smile broke immediately. Across town, in the Valehart mansion, Serena’s phone buzzed at that exact moment. She picked it up, expecting another news, but it was a message from unknown sender.

The fire whispered, a lullaby of rage and power, promising that this was only the beginning. Serena stepped back, blending into the shadow of the nearest oak. Damien’s figure loomed on the horizon, a distant, unknowable force—her future tether, a reminder of what had been stolen, a challenge to reclaim. Lucia, rattled, stumbled to regain composure, but Serena did not give her the satisfaction of immediate recognition. She was the unseen storm now, the living ember that refused to die.

“As much as I know you, you are an overprotective man. How on earth did you approve of a woman who married me after what was, by all accounts, a drunken mistake?” Carter chuckled, his expression softening. “Because she is Charlotte. I have met many people in my life, son, but few like her. She is badass, doesn’t give a damn about nonsense but she is also deeply caring. She will go to any lengths to protect the people she loves.” Sebastian’s curiosity deepened. “But who exactly is she?” Carter’s smile grew. “She is a painter. Her full name is Charlotte Hart. Her parents are Sabrina Taylor and Nathaniel Hart.”

That morning, the sky was clear and blue, but a tense aura already hung over the tall building of Hart Empire. Employees hurried inside—some carrying files, others busy with phone calls. But one figure stood proudly in the lobby, her presence impossible to ignore. Serena Jackson. She wore a tight cream dress that hugged her flawless figure. Her face was hidden behind oversized sunglasses, but the tension around her was palpable. She stood with her arms crossed, a steaming cup of coffee in her right hand. Her smile was thin—fake, and dangerous.

It wasn’t really easy moving in such a tight group, but soon enough, we arrived in a grand hall, well, not in, cause we weren’t practically in yet, but I could clearly see how big the hall was from the back entrance where we stood, it had lesser people than I’d thought it would, but all that didn’t matter, I just wanted to get this all over with. “And tonight, I announced my bride, Serena!” “It’s your turn now,” Simone who had maintained her place beside me all through whispered and the crowd dispersed, leaving way for everyone and anyone to see me now. I started with taking a step and was about to take the second one when I heard a voice so familiar call my name, “SERENA? YOU’VE GOT TO BE F

Not hiding, not shaking, not faking bravery. Serena never fakes. She was wearing riding leathers. Her hair was pinned tight. Her hands were out where I could see them. She did not have a sword. That’s okay. Serena never needed a blade to kill you. For a second, we just looked at each other, measured and weighed each other. Serena was prettier than I remembered. She was not soft. She was not kind. She was just polished, like glass. There were no cracks. Her stance was perfect.