Chapter 59 STUCK TOGETHER.
\~~~SERENA.
The cabin felt stuffy now, the air thick with the scent of salt and our earlier passion. I now sat on the edge of the bed, my silk robe loose around my shoulders, phone clutched in my hand. The screen glowed in the dim light, pulling me deeper into the nightmare.
Damien paced nearby, his voice low and sharp as he spoke into his phone. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the article, scrolling through the comments that piled up like vultures on a kill.
Jesus, they were brutal.
'Gold digger alert! Snagged a billionaire while her boyfriend was still warm in bed.'
Another one read 'Shameless slut, going after a man twice her age just for the money. Damien deserves better.'
My stomach twisted with each word. They painted me as some heartless climber, seducing my way into luxury.
If only they knew the truth. If only I could scream it from the rooftops about how Ryan had shattered me, cheating behind my back, and made a whole family out of it.
How I'd turned to his uncle, Damien, for revenge.
But even as I thought it, doubt crept in.
Wait, was that what I was hearing myself say? Revenge?
I'd slept with Damien more than twice now, and every time, I'd lost myself in it shamelessly.
His hands on my skin, his body claiming mine wasn't just payback.
It felt real, and electric. Yet here I was, staring at these lies that twisted everything into something dirty.
This was so unfair. I wished I could tell my side, lay it all out, and watch the hate crumble. But words online spread like wildfire, and mine would just be drowned out.
Finally, I tuned into Damien's call. His tone was ice-cold, commanding. “Find a scapegoat, or create one, I don't care. I need the article down before dawn.” He hung up with a click, turning to me. His eyes softened a fraction, but the tension in his jaw remained. He closed the space between us, reaching out to touch my arm.
I recoiled, stepping back until my legs hit the bed frame. His hand froze in the air, surprise flashing across his face.
“You are seriously going to let that get to you?” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat burning. “Let's go back already,” The words came out small, but I meant them. This paradise had soured too fast.
“Serena.”
“Let's go back,” I repeated, firmer this time. I turned away, heading to the low cabinet where we'd stashed our clothes earlier. My hands shook as I pulled on my red dress, the fabric now feeling like a costume. Zipping it up, I smoothed it down, but nothing could smooth the ache inside.
My phone buzzed on the bed, the screen lighting up with Maya's name.
I stared at it for a long moment, debating. Part of me wanted to ignore the world, but the other part craved her voice. With a sigh, I picked it up and answered.
“How is the honeymoon goingggg, pretty girl!” Maya exclaimed, her giggle bright and bubbly, like she hadn't a care.
“I saw the article, don't pretend,” I said flatly, cutting through the cheer.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, the playfulness vanishing.
“Don't worry, okay? I am in every comment section, battling with every hate comment, okay?” She rushed on, fierce as always.
Of course, I'd seen her ID popping up in the threads, firing back at the trolls.
“You don't have to,’' I said softly, though it warmed me a little.
“Did Ryan do this? And Damien? What is he doing about it?”
“He's trying to take down the article. But what does it matter? It has reached thousands of people. God, what have I done?”
“Excuse you?” Maya shot back, and I could picture her frowning, brows knit together in that protective way.
“I mean…” I swallowed, the confession bubbling up. “I think I might have... God, this is all on me. I shouldn't have... I should not have come to Damien after the breakup. Everything they are saying is not entirely wrong. Last month, I celebrated my anniversary with Ryan, and today, I am married to his uncle. What had I been thinking?”
“Girl, girl, we're not going to do this right now. Never. You didn't do anything wrong. You are…”
“Don't patronize me, Maya. You know I did wrong.” My voice cracked, the guilt I'd buried rising like bile.
“God, for an overthinker like you, you would not get over this anytime soon, would you?”
“I don't think so. We're coming back today. I told him I wanted to leave.”
“Girl, are you insane?”
“I can't... I feel so bad for pulling him into this mess too. People would keep talking, and it would taint him too. I'll talk to you later, please.”
I ended the call before she could argue more, tossing the phone onto the bed. My chest heaved, and I palmed my face, sobs escaping softly and muffled. Why did it hurt so much? I'd always been a huge victim of what people said about me. It bothered me so much, digging into old wounds.
High school had been the worst. After my Dad died, the whispers followed me everywhere.
'Her father's a coward, killing himself and leaving them high and dry.'
They mocked me for it, turning my grief into gossip. I changed schools twice, hoping for a fresh start, but the stares and snickers just found me again. Each time, it chipped away at me, making me smaller, and more careful. I never wanted to go through that hell again. And now, here it was, crashing back in full force.
By the time I lowered my hands, wiping at my damp cheeks, Damien was right there in the space with me. I sniffed, trying to steady my breathing.
“So, do you regret this marriage already?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine. He looked anything but worked up. He was calm, almost too calm, like the storm around us didn't touch him.
I met his gaze, the weight of it all pressing down. “Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. It hung between us, heavy and final.
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes hurt, maybe, or resolve.
“Well, too bad we’re stuck together forever,” he shrugged.