CHAPTER 51: Serena’s Desperation

CHAPTER 51: Serena’s Desperation
Serena’s POV

Around me, the world was collapsing.

My reflection was white, exhausted, and afraid as I stood in front of my room's floor-to-ceiling mirror. I could feel the turmoil building beneath my skin, and the designer bathrobe I was wearing did nothing to conceal it, and my once-perfect hair hung listlessly around my shoulders.

Everything was breaking down.

They were pursuing me. At last, Evelyn had played her hand. Her earlier-released evidence had gone viral, sweeping through news outlets, business circles, and social media like wildfire. It was a twisted joke that had ruined my carefully constructed image as the stylish wife of Blackfang's CEO. People were accusing me of being a fraud, a manipulator, and a liar. Even worse, the rumors about what I had done to Adrian were becoming more vile and louder.

Furthermore, Kieran had not called. Not once.

Panic made my stomach turn. He started to back off. I sensed it. The silence spoke louder than words, even though he had not yet faced me directly. It screamed betrayal that he avoided the bedroom, the office, and the house. I was no longer in charge of him. I also lost everything when I lost Kieran.

"No," I muttered as I grasped the vanity's edge.

This was not how I was going to die. Evelyn had underestimated me, but she had believed she had won. They all did. I had clawed my way out of impossible situations and survived worse in the past. I refused to let a pampered teenage boy and a spiteful ex-wife ruin me.

I opened the drawer next to the mirror and took out the tiny silver flash drive that I had stashed away for months. It was covered by my insurance. It contained contracts, private messages, and photographs—some of them fictitious, some of them real—enough to ruin reputations if I had to. I didn't want to use it yet, not unless I had no other option. But having the leverage gave me a sense of relief.

But despite that, I had to depart. Just long enough to catch my breath, but not forever. Catch my breath to prepare my counterattack, catch my breath to assemble allies, and catch my breath to repair the harm Evelyn caused. I would be in ruins if I stayed now. The board of directors at Blackfang would turn against me the moment they smelled blood in the water, and the media was vicious.

For the first time in years, I picked up my phone and dialed the number. Before a deep voice picked up, the line rang twice.

"Serena?"

"I need your help," I said, attempting to speak without shaking. "I am in need of lodging. At least for a while."

The person on the other end paused. "Is this something about the scandal?"

"It is not a scandal, Paul," I retorted. "They're trying to destroy me. Kieran is among those Evelyn is poisoning against me.

He let out a sigh. "And what do you require of me?"

"Protection. Use of judgment. Do not you still owe me money?

A pause occurred. Then he said, "Get your things together. Tonight, I will send someone."

My chest flooded with relief. Paul was far from ideal; he was dangerous and cunning, but he had always tried to take advantage of me. I could use him, too, if I played it right. He was also one of Kieran's former business rivals. Maybe it is time to get back at old foes.

I hung up and took immediate action. I thought hard as I threw clothes, jewelry, and essentials into two suitcases. I avoided the gaudy, expensive stuff—no red-soled heels, no designer clothes. I needed to fit in rather than stand out if I was going to be gone for a while.

I noticed that I kept looking out the window as I packed. The silence outside unnerved me, and the sky had darkened. It was too silent. Too motionless. It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath for the next blast.

Downstairs, the house was still. All of the employees had vanished, most likely instructed to avoid the area until the storm was over. I moved slowly down the hallway, tracing the walls with my fingers. I had devoted countless years to creating this life, including furnishing this home, organizing charitable functions, and being the ideal wife. Everything had been a show. The curtain was now dropping.

I was not finished, though.

I took out my phone once more and sent a text to one of the tabloids that had consistently supported me.

I have a tale to tell. Evelyn Blackwood isn't who she says she is. Give me a call.

—S

I had to keep the media war on my side, even though it was a risk. I was prepared to get dirty if Evelyn was.

Something upstairs startled me.

I spun around and listened. It was footsteps, not the house settling. cautious and stealthy. My chest was thumping with my heart.

It was not until nightfall that I expected anyone.

I sprang into action, running into the closet in the hall and closing it after me. I held my breath while pressing my back against the wall. The sound of footsteps approached.

Do not let it be him, please.

A gentle knock sounded in the corridor.

"Serena?"

I went cold. It was Kieran.

His voice was low, almost tentative. I didn't move. I couldn't. I wasn't sure if he was here to scream at me, to throw me out, or to beg for explanations. And I wasn't ready for any of that.

He remarked, "I know you are here," "We must speak. Please.

I tightened my jaw. Speak? He wanted to talk now? after being silent for days? After Evelyn had turned me into a monster in front of everyone?

I said nothing at all.

A few more seconds later, I heard him sigh and turn to leave. Behind him, the front door opened and shut.

The pounding in my chest persisted as I came out of the closet.

It came very close.

I dragged my bags to the garage after waiting for five more minutes. I had already parked my car outside. After packing my bags, I climbed in. I took one last glance at the mansion as I drove away.

For a short time, everything I had created was falling apart.

I would start over. I would engage in combat. And I would destroy all those who had attempted to destroy me.

Evelyn believed she had triumphed. However, she was unaware of my abilities when confronted with a difficult situation.

I sped through the outskirts of the city, far from the gossip chains, the whispered betrayals, and the paparazzi bulbs. As we approached the city's edge, my phone began to buzz once more. Paul's message.

Come to the docks with me. Pier 12. Quickly. Nobody ought to follow.

I scowled. The docks?

Even though I did not feel right, I could not afford to second-guess myself. I would lose my only chance of surviving if I hesitated. Turning the wheel, I made a sharp right into the industrial area of the city.

The streets became more desolate and darker. I tightened my hold on the steering wheel.

The fog rolled in heavy and thick when I got to the docks. With my heels clicking on the pavement, I pulled up close to Pier 12 and got off. Nobody was around.

"Paul?" I exclaimed.

No response was found.

This place was chilly. I shuddered. I pulled my coat closer around me and took a few cautious steps forward.

Then I saw it—just beyond the shipping containers. An automobile in black with its lights off. There was a person inside.

I moved slowly in its direction. The window rolled down.

It was not paul.

Someone else did it.

I had not seen that person in years.

Someone who should have died.