Chapter 6

Serana

I turned toward the window, rolling it down. The night air rushed in, cool against my flushed skin. The city lights blurred past, smears of gold and red against the darkness.

What had I done tonight?

The question circled in my mind, relentless.

I'd gotten drunk. I'd gone upstairs with a man I barely knew. I'd kissed him. I'd—God, I'd practically thrown myself at him. And then I'd told Wesley everything. Burned every bridge. Destroyed three years of carefully maintained pretense in the span of a phone call.

The city gave way to residential streets. Familiar landmarks emerged from the darkness. We were getting close to my family's house.

My family.

The thought landed in my stomach like a stone.

The Bentley pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Every light was on.

Two in the morning, and every single light was blazing.

"Miss Vance?" Vincent's voice was gentle. "Would you like me to wait?"

"No." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Thank you. For everything."

I stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk. The front door opened before I could even reach it.

My father stood in the doorway. Behind him, I could see my mother on the sofa, tissues clutched in her hand. My sister Elena perched on the arm of a chair, arms crossed, face twisted with fury.

The full court. The tribunal. The firing squad.

"Get in here." My father's voice was low and dangerous. "Now."

I walked through the door. It closed behind me with a sound like a coffin sealing shut.

"Do you have any idea," my father began, his voice shaking with rage, "what you've DONE?"

A crystal tumbler shattered against the wall inches from my head. I didn't flinch. Somewhere in the past few hours, I'd stopped being afraid of his tantrums.

"You stupid, selfish little bitch!" Elena shrieked, launching herself off the chair. "Who was that? Who was in that car? Did you fuck someone else? Do you have any concept of how much money you just cost us?"

"Elena." My mother's voice was thick with tears. "Please—"

"No!" My sister whirled on her. "She needs to understand what she's done! Wesley called. He told us everything. She humiliated him. She threw away three years of investment—"

"Investment?" The word slipped out before I could stop it. "Is that what you call it?"

"Shut up." My father's hand cracked across my face.

The slap echoed in the sudden silence.

My mother sobbed harder. Elena's eyes gleamed with vindictive satisfaction.

I touched my cheek. It was hot. It would bruise.

I didn't care.

"Tomorrow," my father said, his voice deadly calm now, "you will go to the Lawson house. You will get on your knees. You will apologize to Wesley and beg him to take you back."

"No."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"I said no." I met his eyes. "I'm not apologizing. I'm not begging. And I'm definitely not marrying him."

"You don't have a choice!" Elena screamed. "You think this is about love? About your feelings? You're collateral, Serena. You're the only thing this family has left to sell!"

"Elena—" My mother tried.

"She needs to hear this!" My sister was in my face now, spitting rage. "We arranged this relationship specifically so you could marry him. Do you understand? The second you say 'I do,' Wesley gets access to a portion of his parents' trust fund. And part of that money—" She jabbed a finger into my chest. "—was promised to us. To save this house. To pay off Dad's debts. To keep us from losing everything."

The room spun.

"You thought he loved you?" Elena laughed, the sound high and cruel. "God, you're even dumber than I thought. This was a business arrangement from day one. We needed money. The Lawsons needed someone to keep Wesley occupied and out of trouble until he turned thirty and got full access to his inheritance. You were the perfect solution. Pretty enough to be arm candy. Desperate enough not to ask questions."

"That's enough." My mother's voice was weak.

"It's not nearly enough!" My father's face was purple with rage. "Do you know what happens if you don't marry him? The house gets foreclosed on in three months. Your mother's medical bills—the ones from her surgery last year—those collectors will come calling. Your sister's tuition at Parsons? Gone. Everything we've worked for. Everything we've built. Gone. Because you couldn't keep your legs closed for one more year!"

One more year.

The words echoed in my head.

They'd been planning this. For how long? Since the beginning? Since before I even met Wesley?

"You're going to fix this." My father's voice dropped to a whisper. "Or I swear to God, Serena, I will disown you. You'll have nothing. No money. No family. No future. Is that what you want?"

I looked at each of them. My father, red-faced and furious. My sister, triumphant in her cruelty. My mother, crying her practiced tears.

Three years. Three years of thinking I was building something real. Three years of ignoring the red flags, swallowing my pride, accepting whatever scraps Wesley threw my way.

All of it. Every second. A lie.

"Yes," I said quietly.

They all froze.

"That's exactly what I want."