No Second Chance, Unbothered and Thriving

One month until the wedding.

Serena Rothwell was at home hand-sewing her wedding dress, about to finish the final touches, when her phone buzzed with a message from one of Chase Whitmore's friends.

[Serena, get over here NOW. Chase lost at truth or dare and has to kiss Brielle.]

Serena's breath caught. Without a word, she dropped her wedding dress and called an Uber to Starlight Club. She couldn't even wait for the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time to the third floor and shoving the door open.

Inside the private room, amber lighting cast everything in intimate shadows. Chase sat in the center wearing a tailored suit while Brielle Monroe, in a black slip dress, straddled his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. Chase's hand gripped the back of her head as they locked lips in a passionate kiss.

Music pounded around them, punctuated by raucous laughter. Ten minutes of kissing, with only ten seconds left on the timer. All their friends started counting down in unison: "Go Chase! Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven..."

The crowd grew more excited with each number. Serena stood frozen in the doorway, watching it all unfold. She could even see Chase slip his tongue into Brielle's mouth, tangling with hers. In that moment, Serena's face went ashen, nausea churning in her stomach.

Only when the countdown ended did they reluctantly break apart. Brielle gave Chase a shy glance before burying her face in his chest. Chase looked down at her, the corner of his mouth curved in satisfaction, as if he'd thoroughly enjoyed the kiss.

Suddenly, someone called out, "Serena?"

The lively room fell silent. More and more people turned to look at Serena. Chase and Brielle both looked her way. Serena said nothing, just stared at Chase, meeting his gaze directly. The entire room was dead quiet.

Only then did Chase push Brielle away, frowning as if annoyed by Serena's interruption. "It's just a game. Was it really worth rushing over here?"

His impatient words hit like countless needles, piercing Serena's heart. She and Chase had been together for seven years. This past year, he'd been coming home less and less. She wasn't blind to his partying—she could tolerate that. But there was one thing she absolutely couldn't tolerate: cheating.

He knew that. Yet he'd chosen to do this to her anyway.

The anger that had been building inside her suddenly couldn't find its way out.

Serena laughed bitterly. "You're right, Mr. Whitmore. How much better if I hadn't come—you could be as comfortable as you wanted. I should just play blind for the rest of my life, shouldn't I?"

Her sarcasm made Chase's expression darken. "I already told you it's a game. What's with the dramatics? Don't forget we're getting married in a month. No one can threaten your position as Mrs. Whitmore."

So this was a threat? If she still wanted to marry him and secure her position as Mrs. Whitmore, she'd better turn a blind eye to his outside activities?

But how could he know that Serena was originally the second daughter of the Rothwell family, one of their heirs? To be with Chase, she'd given up her inheritance, wholeheartedly supporting him as he built his business from a tiny studio into a publicly traded company worth billions. And now that had become his weapon against her?

Serena looked at this man she'd loved for seven whole years. "So you do remember we're supposed to get married. Chase, I don't have to marry you!"

She'd tolerated and compromised again and again because Serena couldn't bear to let go of him, of this relationship. But if he was truly fed up, if he regretted everything and didn't want to marry her, he could just say so honestly. Would she really cling to him desperately?

At her words, a flash of irritation crossed Chase's eyes. But he still stood up, walking toward Serena and lowering his voice. "Don't say things you don't mean. Go home first. We'll talk about this at home."

He reached for her hand, planning to smooth things over with a few words like he always did.

Serena jerked her hand away. He'd touched another woman with those hands. She found them disgusting.

Seeing her refuse to give him any face, Chase's patience finally snapped. "Serena, do you have to make a scene? Think carefully—if you don't get married, you'll have nothing."

Those words actually made Serena laugh. She nodded, about to respond when Brielle stood up and approached them with a pitiful expression.

"Ms. Rothwell, please don't be angry with Chase. What happened just now really was just a game. We truly have no relationship at all. Please don't misunderstand."

Serena hadn't planned to acknowledge her—when a man couldn't resist temptation, it wasn't entirely the other woman's fault. But this woman had seduced her fiancé and now had the nerve to play victim?

Serena's eyes filled with disdain. "Ms. Monroe, you really have some nerve. Seducing my man and then playing innocent?"

"Ms. Rothwell, how can you say that about me?" Brielle's eyes reddened with hurt as she grabbed Serena's hand pleadingly. "Ms. Rothwell, please believe me. Chase and I truly only have a working relationship. I'm begging you—please don't fight with Chase because of me, okay?"

The perfect performance of 'I don't matter, just don't let me come between you two'—so noble and generous.

Serena was almost impressed by the acting skills. She couldn't help but call her bluff. "You want me to believe you? Fine. Kiss every man in this room for ten minutes, and I'll believe you have nothing going on with Chase."

Brielle's face went white as she swayed on her feet. The men couldn't stand seeing such a vulnerable woman bullied, their protective instincts kicking in as they turned on Serena with criticism.

Serena couldn't be bothered with them anymore, forcefully pulling her wrist free from Brielle's grasp. She hadn't pushed anyone. But Brielle acted as if she'd been shoved, stumbling backward several steps, looking like she might fall.

Chase rushed over just in time, catching her around the waist, then glaring at Serena. "Haven't you caused enough trouble? I think you've been spoiled too long—actually laying hands on a woman and saying such horrible things. Apologize to her!"