Chapter 372

Serena’s POV

I shifted uncomfortably, tightening my grip on Milo and Stella's small hands.

"Welcome back to Manhattan," Atticus said, his face lighting up with a smile that I knew was calculated to charm.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to hide my confusion at his sudden appearance.

"I came specifically to see you," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"How did you know I was on this flight?" I pressed, though I already suspected the answer.

"For the woman I adore, I would climb mountains, brave fire—" Atticus began, his voice taking on that theatrical quality I found so irritating.

I fixed him with a stern glare, cutting his flowery speech short. This kind of saccharine talk was the last thing I needed after a long flight with two restless children.

"I asked your assistant," he admitted, finally dropping the act.

Miles. That woman was going to get an earful when I got back to the office. She had no business giving out my personal schedule to anyone, especially not to Atticus.

"Let's go, I'll drive you home..." Atticus offered, reaching for my luggage.

"Serena, is this your boyfriend?" a voice called out from nearby.

I turned to see Hattie approaching us with a bright smile. She had been walking not far behind us, and now seized the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. My irritation deepened—running into her again was the last thing I needed.

"And you are?" Atticus frowned, scanning Hattie as if trying to place her in his mental catalog of my acquaintances.

"Hello, I'm Hattie Langston, Serena's cousin," she introduced herself with a warmth that seemed genuine.

"You have a cousin?" Atticus asked me, his surprise evident.

His question grated on my already frayed nerves. "Did you think I sprouted from a rock?" I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended.

"I thought you were estranged from all your relatives," Atticus blurted out tactlessly.

I shot him a warning glance that could have frozen fire. This man really needed to learn when to keep his thoughts to himself.

Atticus caught my look and immediately backpedaled. "I mean, clearly I don't know enough about your family. My mistake," he said, humbled by my glare.

"So are you Serena's boyfriend?" Hattie persisted, her curiosity unabated.

"I'm still trying to win your cousin's heart..." Atticus began to explain.

In that moment, I made an impulsive decision. "Yes," I interrupted, looping my arm through his. If Mateo was standing right there, why not let him see that I had moved on? The thought provided a bitter satisfaction.

Hattie's expression registered surprise.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mateo's slight reaction—a flicker in those steel-gray eyes, though his face remained impassive. His indifference disappointed me; I had expected—wanted—more of a reaction.

Milo and Stella frowned, their small faces creased with concern. I knew they weren't opposed to me finding someone new, but I caught them repeatedly glancing at Mateo.

I discreetly observed that when Milo and Stella stared at Mateo without any recognition, he noticed their gaze and offered them a small smile.

My children's faces darkened instantly with displeasure.

Mateo seemed unfazed by their hostility, as if he were used to such reactions.

"Hello, cousin-in-law," Hattie immediately adjusted her address, her voice honey-sweet.

"Hello, cousin," Atticus responded with a warm smile.

I could tell Atticus was charmed by Hattie. Who wouldn't be? She was sweet, cheerful, friendly, and socially adept—qualities that made her instantly likable to almost everyone.

"It's getting late. We should head home," I said, maintaining my grip on Atticus's arm as I addressed Mateo and Hattie. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Manhattan." I was eager to end this unexpected meeting and process my complicated emotions in private.

"Thank you, take care," Hattie replied politely.

The sleek sedan glided smoothly through traffic as we left the airport behind. I was staring out the window, lost in my own thoughts, when Atticus's voice broke the silence.

"If I'd known, I would have parked farther away," he said with a wistful sigh. "You could have held onto my arm a little longer."

I mentally rolled my eyes, utterly speechless. When we'd first exited the airport, I'd deliberately linked my arm with his, but only because I wasn't sure if Mateo and Hattie might appear again. It was purely strategic. And here he was, trying to make more of it than it was.

"By the way," he continued, his voice taking on a more animated tone, "why did you introduce me as your boyfriend? Have you finally come to your senses about us? Actually, I think we're past the dating stage—we've known each other too long. Let's just go straight to marriage. I'll check which day would be auspicious, and we can set the date..."

As his fantasies spiraled further out of control, I cut him off sharply. "Can you be serious for a moment? Couldn't you tell I was just trying to avoid dealing with those two?"

He smirked, undeterred. "Oh, I could tell. But what if you'd actually meant it?"

"I didn't," I stated firmly.

"Who knows? Before, you couldn't stand me touching you, but just now you were clinging to my arm, weren't you?"

His comment left me speechless again. Had he not heard a word I said? Was everything I just explained completely meaningless to him?

"Whatever the reason, you still initiated physical contact," he added, his tone deliberately suggestive.

I bit my tongue, thinking: Could he make this sound any more inappropriate?

Atticus's expression suddenly turned serious. "But Serena, you rarely pay this much attention to anyone. Were you actually jealous of Hattie just now?" His eyes studied me carefully.

I refused to admit it. "No, I wasn't."

"Don't try to fool me."

Frustration built inside me. I couldn't help but ask, "Do all men consider women like Hattie the ideal?"

"You're my ideal," Atticus replied with surprising earnestness.

I scoffed, brushing off his compliment. "Right. Save the flattery."

"Hattie is obviously one of those..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "I can't quite explain it, but she's definitely not my type."

I recalled their interaction earlier and felt a twinge of irritation. "You seemed pretty friendly with her."

"Jealous?" he asked, unable to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

I gave him a withering look, thinking how presumptuous he was.

"I was only being nice because she's connected to you," he explained casually. "If it had been anyone else, do you think I would have given her the time of day?"

Despite myself, I smiled slightly. I had to admit, sometimes Atticus wasn't so bad—as a friend, of course.

"Why do you dislike Hattie so much?" he pressed.

Still unwilling to admit it directly, I insisted, "I don't dislike her."

"Then it must be about that guy—Mateo, was it?"

I didn't want to continue this conversation. "What are you talking about?"

"Am I right? Don't tell me you've fallen for him just because he resembles Mateo!" Atticus's voice rose in disbelief.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Stella turning away from the window to look in our direction. My heart clenched—I hoped she hadn't been listening too closely.

"That's ridiculous!" I protested. "I'm not that kind of person."

"But you were acting strangely back there."

Finally tired of the back-and-forth, I conceded, "Fine. Yes, Hattie annoyed me. Happy now?"

In the rearview mirror, I saw Stella turn back to the window, her small profile etched with disappointment. My heart ached, but I wasn't sure how to explain the situation.

"You're just using Hattie as a shield to hide your feelings for Mateo," Atticus declared with infuriating confidence.

I gave up trying to have a rational conversation with him. There was no point when we were speaking completely different languages.

Atticus must have sensed my withdrawal because he quickly changed his approach. "So why do you dislike Hattie?" he asked, his tone gentler.

I finally shared my honest thoughts. "Don't you think she's like Nina in her early days?"

Atticus paused, then his eyes widened in realization. "That's it! I knew she seemed familiar somehow."

The truth was, I really didn't have much fondness for Hattie. Whether her sweet, innocent act was genuine or fake, once you develop an aversion to something, it's hard to view it positively again.

Eager to change the subject, I asked, "Why did you really come to Manhattan?" I honestly doubted Atticus would make this trip just for me.

"I really did come to see you," he insisted, his expression earnest. "Why don't you believe me? It's been so long since we've seen each other. I was afraid you might have forgotten about me by now."

"Don't worry, I won't," I assured him confidently.

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

I couldn't resist teasing him. "Of course. We have too many financial entanglements. I'm too greedy to forget."

He was momentarily speechless, then broke into a resigned smile.

When we arrived at my villa, Atticus made several attempts to come inside, claiming he just wanted a glass of water, but I refused each time. I knew all too well that once I let him in, it wouldn't be easy to get him to leave.

In the end, though, I did accept the roses he'd brought. It was a concession made under duress—he'd threatened that if I didn't take them, he would insist on coming inside for a while. Between those two options, I chose the lesser evil without hesitation.

Despite my resistance, Atticus seemed pleased as he left. Perhaps he hadn't noticed that my attitude toward him was gradually changing. In the past, even if he had threatened to die on my doorstep, I would have merely given him a look reserved for idiots and walked away without a second thought.