Chapter 39
Why was he doing this? Acting like some lovesick fool, fretting over whether she was comfortable, whether she felt safe, whether she missed...
He backspaced until every letter was gone. Set the phone facedown so he wouldn’t be tempted again.
Instead, he opened the encrypted files on his laptop, scrolling through fresh intelligence reports on Zhao Corporation’s offshore shell companies. His legal team in Singapore was already drafting lawsuits that would drain Ethan’s reserves faster than he could scramble to hide them. Soon the bastard would have nothing left, not even the hollow legacy of a family name.
It should have satisfied Lucien. This was exactly what he’d promised Serena: complete and utter annihilation.
So why did it feel so empty without her there to see it? Without her quiet triumph, her fragile hope that this time she wouldn’t be the one left broken?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard. The image of Serena curled on her bed that night after the gala, cheeks flushed, hair a dark spill across her pillow, it wouldn’t leave him. The way she’d mumbled Ethan’s name, whispered about being pushed off a cliff. At the time he’d written it off as drunk nonsense. But what if there was more? What if she’d actually been...
His phone buzzed, jerking him out of his spiral. But it was only an automated alert from his international brokers. He let out a harsh, humorless laugh.
Pathetic, he thought again. I’ve become exactly like them, the idiots who let a pretty face unravel everything.
He stood abruptly, pacing to the floor to ceiling windows. The city glowed below, oblivious to his turmoil. Somewhere out there Serena was probably asleep, blissfully unaware of how close he’d come to sending that message. To shoving past her carefully drawn lines just so he could reassure himself she was still thinking of him too.
And wasn’t that the worst of it? That he actually wanted her to miss him, the one man she’d vowed to keep at arm’s length, because this was never supposed to be real.
Lucien leaned his forehead against the cool glass. For a brief, dangerous moment, he almost wished he could be someone else. Someone who didn’t know how to turn affection into leverage, someone who didn’t instinctively see people’s weaknesses and how to exploit them. Someone who could simply tell Serena he liked her laugh, the way she forgot her bitterness long enough to crack silly jokes when she was tipsy, or how her eyes softened every time she looked at her mother.
But he wasn’t that man. He never would be.
So instead he straightened, buttoned his shirt cuffs with clinical precision, and returned to his desk.
He’d finish dismantling Ethan’s world first. Then he’d figure out how to stop wanting things he could never truly have, like Serena looking at him without caution in her eyes.
Or worse, with love.
...........................
The morning light spilled across Serena’s bedroom floor in gentle ribbons, soft and deceptively peaceful. It stretched over the plush ivory carpet, warmed the rose hued wallpaper, and danced across the crystal perfume bottles on her vanity. Outside her window, the garden stirred with life. Birds flitted between the hedges, chirping brightly as if to mock the anxious weight in her chest.
Somewhere downstairs, the housekeeper hummed while arranging fresh lilies and peonies. The melody curled through the hallways, familiar and fragile, like everything else in this house that felt impossibly precious now.
Serena stood by the vanity, brushing her long hair with slow, careful strokes. Each pull of the bristles through her locks was a tiny ritual, a desperate clinging to normalcy. If she just went through the motions, maybe her heart wouldn’t beat so frantically. Maybe the phantom ache left by Lucien’s absence wouldn’t tighten around her ribs quite so hard. Maybe Ethan’s cruel words wouldn’t echo so loudly in the corners of her mind.
He was smug on the phone last night, Serena.
Lucien probably only wanted you to spite me. But I don’t care if he’s had you. I still want you back.
She pressed her lips together, glaring at her reflection until her own eyes flinched. Last night she’d managed to shove Ethan’s poisonous voice aside, determined not to let him pull her strings again. But it was harder this morning, alone with her thoughts, Lucien’s silence haunting her.
A gentle knock at the door startled her.
“Serena, dear?” Her mother’s voice floated in, soft and coaxing. “Come down for tea. The roses are blooming by the veranda, and I thought we could sit out there for a while.”
Serena drew a shaky breath and forced a smile before turning. “Coming, Mama.”
She hoped the smile was enough to smooth away the faint lines of worry that always hovered around Mrs. Lin’s delicate eyes these days. Her mother was a woman who carried her grief in polite silence, the death of her husband, the slow strangling of their fortune, the unspoken dread that it could all slip through their fingers any day now.
They settled on the sun washed patio, surrounded by the lush scent of jasmine and fresh roses. A delicate china set was already arranged on a small round table. Light filtered through the climbing vines above, dappling everything in gentle gold.
Serena sank into her chair and let her shoulders relax, savoring the illusion of tranquility. For a moment, it felt like being a child again, her mother chattering about garden parties while she picked at pastries.