Chapter Fifty-Five: Voices that Dare Me
Chapter Fifty-Five: Voices that Dare Me
ANNA SERRANO
I twirl my pen between my fingers, lazily swiveling in my chair as I scroll through the comments under the Donovan official page. Humans truly have long memories—longer than these elites expect.
The Vale party incident may have been scrubbed off the internet in record time, but the public hasn’t forgotten. Not even close.
I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh as I keep scrolling.
“I never knew the Donovans and the Whitmores are suffering from generational mental illness.”
“Who infected who? Donovan to Whitmore or Whitmore to Donovan? Let’s discuss.”
“I can still hear Selena’s voice in my head: ‘My brain is deceiving me.’ Ma’am, your brain has been deceiving you since 1990.”
“The Telenovela series she mentioned—what’s the name? I want to start watching. Thank you, Selena!”
“Flora kneeling like a deaconess in revival hour? God, I screamed.”
“If I were the Serranos I’d frame that apology video and hang it in the living room.”
“Plot twist: The Serranos didn’t post the video… but we are grateful to whoever leaked it.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing too loudly.
Comment after comment—hilarious, brutal, delicious.
Even though the Donovans tried to cover everything up, bury the story, and shove hush money into the right hands, the internet refuses to let that night die. And honestly? I love it. This is what happens when you cross the Serranos twice in one lifetime.
At this point, the public favors us.
We hold the power.
They know it.
We know it.
I tap on the video Sherry had sent earlier—the one where Flora and Selena are kneeling in front of me, tears shimmering, voices cracking as they begged for my forgiveness.
I replay it again and again, a small smirk rising on my face.
I open our chat and type:
“I’m still not satisfied. I want something more desperate next time. Tears, snot—everything.”
Her typing bubble appears immediately.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it soon. But they need warning. Selena especially—after that stunt she tried to pull at the Vale party.”
My smirk fades.
The syringe.
The men waiting outside.
Her plan to have me taken.
My jaw tightens.
I haven’t told Alexander or Mother yet. Because if I do, blood will spill. They won’t think twice.
But the audacity still shocks me.
Selena truly believes I’m still the same Anna Whitmore she used to bully.
She hasn’t understood yet.
I’m a Serrano now.
We don’t lose battles.
I exhale sharply and hit the call icon on Flora’s number.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And…
“Hello? Who is this?” she asks.
I laugh under my breath. Of course she hasn’t saved my number. She’s petty like that.
“It’s Anna. Anna Serrano. We need to talk.”
Silence.
Then a harsh scoff.
“So you think I’ll waste my precious time to see you? Even if I do, it’ll be to watch you get buried.”
I laugh—loudly.
“What precious time? You’re jobless, Flora. Your full-time occupation is living off Abel’s wallet.”
“You—what? How dare you! You literally lived that same life years ago! And excuse you, my skin wasn’t created for stress and labor.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Anyone who sees you already knows your skin isn’t suffering stress. Your brain, however…”
“You witch!”
“Relax,” I sigh. “I didn’t call to see your face. God forbid. I called because you and your mother need a serious warning.”
“Warning? From who? You?” she snaps.
“Yes. From me. Because I don’t know what possessed your mother to try that nonsense at Vale’s party, but if either of you try anything—anything—again, I will end both of you. I’m not the past Anna you people used as a punching bag.”
Silence.
Good.
“I’m sure Selena told you what I did to her already,” I added calmly. “Next time won’t end with kneeling. Next time I’ll bury your family name six feet deep. Don’t test me.”
Another moment of silence.
Then—
“Wait!” she blurts.
I pause, phone halfway from my ear.
“Don’t cut the call,” she whispers.
I frown.
What is she planning now?
“Don’t you miss Father?” she asks softly. “Won’t you come and see him? Or have you changed so much that you don’t care anymore? He calls your name every day. He barely even recognizes me. It’s always ‘Anna, Anna, Anna’—you witch!”
The phone almost slips from my hand.
What is this sudden emotional manipulation?
Selena must have coached her.
“That’s none of your business,” I replied coldly.
“You’re heartless! He misses you! But go ahead—keep pretending you’re some Serrano princess now!”
I inhale deeply.
“Flora,” I say very slowly, “say whatever you want about me. But I’ll repeat this once more: warn your mother. And warn yourself. Because the next time you try anything stupid, I will disgrace you in ways you never imagined. And trust me, the Serranos do not bluff.”
“A-Anna—”
“Goodbye.”
I ended the call.
And breathe out.
Talking to Flora is like wrestling a demon and a toddler at the same time—exhausting and pointless.
Father.
His face flashes in my mind—the man he was before Selena, and the man he became after.
My chest softens… then hardens again.
He chose her.
He disowned me.
And I chose myself.
Maybe I’ll see him.
Maybe not.
I’m not ready.
Before my thoughts can settle, my office telephone rings again.
“Ma’am,” my secretary says, “Mr. Donovan demands to see you.”
My brows lift.
“Mr Donovan” could be Gerald… but no.
It’s Abel.
Abel Donovan, who humiliated me, doubted me, accused me, and demanded I kneel.
“Deny him,” I say flatly. “I’m not receiving visitors.”
Minutes later, the phone rings again.
“Ma’am… he says if he’s not allowed in, he’ll cause a scene.”
I close my eyes.
Ah yes.
I forgot how stubborn he can be.
“Let him in,” I say calmly.
I drop the receiver and lean back in my chair.
Let’s see what Abel Donovan wants now—
What is he bringing in this time?
Accusations?
Excuses?
Clarification?
Or just another attempt to prove he never really knew me?
Either way…
I’m ready.