Chapter 92
Serena
The words stared back at me from the screen, bright and cheerful and devastating.
Something in my chest just... stopped. Not my heart, technically—that kept beating, unfortunately—but something else. That anxious, nervous energy that had been buzzing through me all day just vanished, replaced by a hollow, numb sensation.
I wasn't nervous anymore.
I was past nervous. Past anxiety. Past hope.
I'd fallen straight through the floor into something much worse.
"Oh shit." Chloe's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Serena, I—"
She lunged across the table and snatched my phone out of my hands.
"She's kidding!" Chloe said quickly, desperately, like she could somehow rewrite the message through sheer force of will. "She has to be kidding. Or maybe she meant a different 'he.' Or maybe—"
I looked at her.
Just looked at her.
Whatever she saw in my eyes killed the comfort she'd been about to offer. Her mouth snapped shut, the platitudes dying before they could form.
Then she started pacing.
Back and forth across the small dining area, her hands gesturing wildly as she talked herself through something.
"Okay, but here's the thing," she said, her voice taking on that rapid-fire quality it got when she was working through a problem. "The Ice King of Wall Street—the man who hasn't had a public relationship in a decade—suddenly agrees to a date. With a Lloyd. That's..." she paused, looking at me with an expression that was equal parts apologetic and fascinated, "that's actually huge, Serena. Like, front-page news huge. 'Manhattan's Most Eligible Bachelor Finally Takes the Plunge' huge. Especially with someone from that family—"
"Are you serious right now?" I stared at her in disbelief. "You're actually thinking about magazine headlines? About how this would play in the press?"
Chloe had the grace to look sheepish. "I work in media. It's an occupational hazard. I can't help but notice when something would make a killer story—"
"This is my life, not a story!"
"I know! I know that. I'm sorry." She stopped pacing, turning to face me fully. "But Serena, come on. Look at yourself."
"What?"
"Look at how you're reacting to this." Chloe's voice softened. "You're not acting like someone who just wants to seduce her boss for a fun weekend fling. You're acting like..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "like someone who's watching the man they love get taken by someone else."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"I don't—" I started, but my voice cracked. "That's not—"
I turned away from her, heading toward the small bar cart in the corner. My hands were shaking as I reached for the wine bottle.
"Whoa, hey." Chloe was there in an instant, plucking the bottle out of my hands before I could pour. "Absolutely not. We talked about this. Clear head tomorrow, remember?"
"Chloe—"
"No." She held the bottle out of reach. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to spiral into the sad, defeated version of Serena who drinks wine and gives up." She set the bottle down firmly on the counter. "That's the old Serena. And she's dead. Remember?"
I wanted to argue. Wanted to grab the wine and pour myself a very large glass and maybe several more after that. Wanted to curl up in bed and pretend this day had never happened.
Instead, I just stood there, my hands clenched at my sides, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.
"Come on," Chloe said, more gently now. "Talk to me. What are you actually feeling right now?"
"I feel like I'm losing something I never even had," I admitted quietly. "Which is stupid. I've been wanting him since day one—imagining what it would feel like to have him look at me the way I've been looking at him. But none of that was real. Just fantasies in my head. I have no claim on him. No right to feel like this."
"But you do feel like this."
"Yeah." The word came out barely above a whisper. "I do."
Chloe was quiet for a moment. Then: "Okay. So let's break this down. Logically. Rationally. Like the badass CEO you are now."
I looked at her skeptically. "Break what down?"
"This situation." She held up one finger. "First: Lance agreed to the date. But that doesn't mean he actually wants to go. You know the kind of pressure Arthur puts on him. You've seen it yourself. For all we know, he's being forced into this and hating every second of it."
I wanted to believe that. God, I wanted to believe that so badly.
"Second," Chloe continued, holding up another finger, "even if he goes—which, okay, he clearly is—that doesn't automatically mean anything will happen. It's dinner. They'll talk. Maybe they'll have nothing in common. Maybe she'll be too young for him. Maybe he'll spend the whole time thinking about... I don't know, quarterly reports or something."
Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "That's possible."
"Third," Chloe's expression turned fiercer, "and this is the important one—even if they hit it off. Even if she's charming and brilliant and he finds her interesting. Even if there's some kind of spark there." She grabbed my shoulders, making me look at her directly. "That doesn't mean you're out of the picture. That doesn't mean you lose."
"Chloe—"
"I'm serious! So what if Isabella makes a good impression? You can make a better one. So what if he likes her a little? You can make him like you a hundred times more." She shook me slightly.
"You're Serena fucking Vance. You just bought a company for one dollar and made your enemies crawl. You survived a public attack and came out stronger. You're not going to let some twenty old lawyer steal your man without a fight."
Something in my chest shifted. Loosened. The numbness started to burn away, replaced by something hotter. Sharper.
Anger. Determination. Something that felt almost like hope.
"Fuck," I said slowly, a smile starting to spread across my face. "When did you become a motivational speaker?"
"I've always been this inspirational. You just usually aren't listening." Chloe grinned. "So? Are you going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself? Or are you going to remember that you're the woman who makes things happen?"
I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Felt my spine straighten, my shoulders square, that familiar fighting spirit roaring back to life.
"You're right," I said, and this time my voice was steady. Strong. "You're absolutely right."
"That's my girl!" Chloe's eyes lit up with excitement. "So what's the plan? Are you going to corner him at the office? Show up at his place? Make some power move that'll—"
"I'm going to be there."
She blinked. "What?"
"Tomorrow night," I said, my mind already racing through possibilities. "I need to see exactly how this plays out. Read their body language. "Figure out if he's actually interested or if he's just playing along because Arthur's pulling the strings."
I met her eyes, feeling that sharp determination settle into place.
"And if there's even a hint of a spark between them, I'll make damn sure to put it out myself."