Chapter 18 Serena
THIRD PERSON’S POV.
Serena hesitated before touching the envelope, as if the thin paper might burn her fingers because deep down, she knew whoever left it already knew she was no longer the same clueless girl she used to be.
Trisha hovered behind her. “Open it… but slowly,” she whispered, like they were dealing with a live wire.
Serena slid a finger under the seal.
A single sheet of paper.
No greeting.
No signature.
Just one sentence written in neat handwriting:
YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
Serena’s breath caught.
Trisha snatched the paper from her hand. “What the hell does that mean? Time for what? Serena, who else knows that you’re …”
But Serena wasn’t hearing her anymore. Her mind was spiraling, sharp and fast, connecting dots she wasn’t even sure existed.
Someone knew.
Someone was watching.
Trisha grabbed her wrist. “Serena. Look at me. What do we do?”
Serena lifted her eyes from the warning, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
Someone understood far more about her second chance than they should.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “How can I be out of time when I just got back?”
And right there, in the middle of the bright Monterra afternoon, surrounded by shopping bags and strangers, Serena felt it..
The past she thought she’d escaped was already closing in and she had only one choice now, outrun it…
or outplay it.
Serena shoved the letter into her back pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”
She drove over the speed limit, jaw tight, fingers locked around the steering wheel. The letter had shaken her to her core.
Trisha was staring at the note like if she looked hard enough, more words would magically appear. “I don’t get it. Is this a reminder or a threat?”
“What does it matter? Someone out there knows my secret.” Serena exhaled deeply, eyes fixed on the road.
“Well, we need to figure out if this person is a friend or a foe. If it’s a reminder, great, we have an ally. If it’s a warning…” Trisha’s voice dropped. “Then we’re dealing with an anonymous enemy.”
Serena didn’t answer, she couldn’t. Her mind was too full.
Trisha reached over and squeezed her hand. “Rena, it’s okay. We’ll deal with one thing at a time.”
Rena.
Only her grandfather had called her that, and her mother, she had sewn the nickname into her baby clothes before she was even born. A tear escaped before she could stop it.
“You’re right,” Serena murmured. “First, I have to plan my grandfather’s funeral.”
“You saw the letter,” Trisha countered. “First, you meet with Damian. We don’t have time to waste.”
Serena pulled up in front of Trisha’s street. She didn’t feel like going home or having to explain to Clara why she had so suddenly picked up a habit of mid-afternoon shopping. “I can’t just… invite him out. It’ll look suspicious.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll invite him to go coffin shopping.”
Serena whipped her head toward her. “Coffin shopping? Wow. How Romantic.” She laughed until she almost choked.
“Okay, yes, you are right, that’s a weird first date idea,” Trisha conceded, tapping her chin deep in thought.
They carried the shopping bags inside. Serena barely sank into the sofa before Trisha snapped her fingers and squealed.
Serena nearly jumped out of her skin. “Trish! I’m going to age ten years every time you scream like that.”
“Sorry, sorry,” she said quickly, flopping down beside her. “But listen. You’re going to invite him to the florist tomorrow. Our spot.”
“I can’t take him to our spot,” Serena said, crossing her arms like a protective shield. “It’s our spot.”
“I know,” Trisha said, surprisingly serious, “but this is Damian Crowne. I am willing to share our spot if it helps him fall for you faster.”
Serena groaned. “Fine.”
“Call him.” Trisha was already scrolling through Serena’s contacts.
“What? Now?”
“Yes, now. We don’t have a lot of time, remember?” Trisha dialed and shoved the phone into Serena’s hand.
Serena glared but lifted it to her ear.
“Hello, Serena.”
His voice was cool and low like he’d just woken up.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“I have all your phone numbers and all your email addresses, Serena.”
Of course he did. She rolled her eyes, but not with annoyance this time.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked. Damian always assumed she was. He believed she needed constant saving.
“No, I’m not,” Serena said quickly. Trisha mouthed, Go on! “I… I’m going to pick out flowers for my grandfather’s funeral and I want you to come with me.”
Trisha beamed. The girl nearly burst into applause. Serena hadn’t begged, she’d simply stated what SHE wanted. Feminine power 101.
A pause.
Then Damian sighed. “I wish I could, Serena, but I’m down with the flu. One of my guards had it and passed it to me.” A sneeze exploded through the speaker.
Serena softened. “Oh, that’s fine…” she was beginning to say
But Trisha shoved a handwritten note in her face:
GO TO HIS HOUSE WITH CHICKEN SOUP
Before Serena could think, she repeated it aloud:
“I’ll come over with… chicken soup.”
She froze, eyes wide with horror.
“You are?” Damian sounded as bewildered as she felt. Serena Gregory showing up at his house? Unthinkable.
“Yes. I… I will.” She swallowed. “Just text me your address and I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Okay then,” he said, amused. He hung up and a moment later sent his live location. He didn’t want to overthink it, but excitement flickered in his eyes, even his heart did a little flip.
Serena hurled a pillow at Trisha.
“Chicken soup? Really?”
Trisha ducked, cackling. “That’s the only thing I could think of! And come on what’s more intimate than being in his house?”
Serena shook her head. “You better pray there’s chicken in your freezer.” She paused. “What am I even going to wear?”
“Relax,” Trisha said, striking a superhero pose. “Superwoman is here.”
They headed to the kitchen to prepare the broth.
As Serena stirred the pot, the steam rising in soft curls, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering and for a moment she had envisioned a lucid image of her cooking in Damian’s kitchen.
As his wife.
The thought hit her so hard she almost dropped the spoon. Her cheeks flushed bright red and warm.
And she didn’t even bother hiding it. She was actually excited to see Damian.