SERENA'S POV
I took a clumsy sip out of the bottle of whisky in my clutch and went back to pacing restlessly across my room.
My tongue felt numb from drinking so much.
My mind swarm with haunting images of my earlier argument with Ivan.
An argument hat never would have happened, if only he had paused, long enough to consider that maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
That Maeve was nothing more than a lying, scheming two-faced slut.
But no.
He didn't want to hear it.
He had rebuffed all my accusations against her and had even gone as far as to defend her.
And then, he'd ordered for her release.
The worst part of all was the report I had gotten from one of my maid lackeys, saying that Maeve had entered Ivan's rooms hours ago and was yet to come out.
It didn't take a genius to guess what that meant.
To say that I was furious was a mere understatement.
At first, I had considered going over there.
