The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, golden rays dancing across Serena's desk as she flipped open another case file. The law office buzzed around her — phones ringing, clerks shuffling papers, the low murmur of lawyers arguing fine points of strategy in the hallway. To anyone watching, she was composed, professional, every bit the rising young attorney Vale's daughter had been meant to be.
But inside, her thoughts weren't on the deposition in front of her.
They were on Ethan.
She tapped her pen against the page, a small smile tugging at her lips. She had told him she was too busy to meet last night, her schedule too packed with briefs and deadlines. He had accepted it easily, sending a simple I understand, we'll see each other soon. But guilt had nibbled at her since. Ethan was patient with her, always waiting, never demanding more than she could give. He didn't deserve distance. He deserved something better.
A surprise.
She could already imagine it — showing up at his place after work, watching his face light up when he opened the door. Maybe they'd order in, laugh on the couch until she drifted against his shoulder. Simple. Comfortable. Real.
The thought carried her through the day.
She fought her way through hours of meetings, scribbled notes during a partner's sharp cross-examination, and forced herself to smile when Maya texted her about Jade's cravings and Chloe's latest sarcastic joke. But her mind always drifted back to Ethan. To the way his smile softened just for her. To the warmth in his eyes that made her believe she was safe.
By five, she had made up her mind.
Instead of heading home, she would go to him.
The city glowed with the last hues of twilight when Serena arrived at Ethan's apartment building. Glass and steel towered above her, catching the sunset in its polished surface. She smoothed her skirt, nerves fluttering in her stomach, and stepped inside.
The receptionist recognized her immediately, offering a polite smile. Serena had been here enough times that she no longer felt like a stranger. Still, her pulse raced as she pressed the elevator button.
He has no idea. He'll be so surprised.
The thought filled her with warmth, steadying her trembling hands.
But as the elevator hummed upward, a strange unease settled in her chest. She brushed it off. Nerves, that was all. She wanted this moment to be perfect.
The doors slid open. The hallway stretched before her, quiet except for the muffled hum of city life far below. She walked quickly, heels tapping softly against the polished floor. Ethan's door was just ahead.
She raised her hand to knock—then froze.
Voices.
Ethan's voice, low but unmistakable, came from inside. Another man answered, rougher, older. The door stood slightly ajar, just enough for the sound to slip through.
Serena hesitated. She shouldn't listen. She knew that. But something in Ethan's tone — clipped, cold — rooted her in place.
"She doesn't suspect a thing," Ethan was saying. "Serena trusts me completely. By the time I'm finished, everything her father left behind will be in my hands."
Serena's breath caught.
Her first instinct was denial. She must have misheard. It couldn't be Ethan. Not her Ethan.
The other man chuckled darkly. "And the girl?"
A pause. Then Ethan's answer, sharp as glass:
"She's just a means to an end."
The words shattered her.
Her world tilted, everything spinning out from under her. The laughter, the tender touches, the promises whispered under moonlight — all of it, a lie. A carefully constructed illusion to keep her blind.
Her knees wobbled. She reached for the wall to steady herself, her heart hammering so violently she thought it might break free from her chest.
"Make sure no one connects this back to me," Ethan continued. "By the time she realizes, it'll be too late."
Serena clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She staggered backward, vision blurring with tears.
No. No, it can't be real. Not him. Not Ethan.
But the certainty in his voice left no room for hope.
Her body moved before her mind caught up. She turned and ran.
The hallway echoed with the frantic clack of her heels. The elevator seemed impossibly far. She stabbed the button again and again, tears streaming down her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When the doors finally opened, she all but collapsed inside, pressing herself into the corner as though the walls could hide her from the truth.
By the time she burst through the lobby, the receptionist called after her, concern etched on his face. But Serena didn't stop. She couldn't. The night air hit her like a slap as she stumbled onto the street, her vision blurred, chest heaving.
Her hands shook violently as she clutched her bag to her chest. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
The boy she loved had been using her.
And worst of all… it was tied to her father. To Vale.
Across the street, in the shadow of a parked black SUV, a man watched her through tinted glass. His phone buzzed once.
"She knows," he reported into the receiver, his voice steady. "Ran out crying. Looks like Ethan slipped up."
The voice on the other end was smooth, controlled, laced with something dangerous. Dante.
"Good," Dante replied. "Keep following her. Don't let her out of your sight."
The man nodded and hung up. His eyes never left Serena's trembling figure as she disappeared into the night.
Miles away, Dante sat in his high-rise office, a glass of whiskey in hand. The city lights glittered below, cold and distant.
Andres sprawled across the couch opposite him, boots kicked up on the armrest, twirling a knife idly between his fingers. His smirk widened as he caught Dante's expression.
"Well, well," Andres drawled. "Guess lover boy showed his true colors. That didn't take long."
Dante's jaw tightened. He stared at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, but his mind was elsewhere — back on the girl with fire in her eyes and Vale's stubbornness in her blood.
"She was never safe with him," Dante said at last, voice low, dangerous. "Now she'll see it too."
Andres snorted. "Safe with you, then? That what you're saying?" He leaned forward, eyes glinting with amusement. "Boss, you're staring at the skyline like some tragic hero. Don't tell me she's already under your skin."
Dante's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade.
"She's Vale's daughter," he said flatly. "That makes her my responsibility."
Andres chuckled, unconvinced. "Responsibility, huh? Sure. Let's call it that. But don't kid yourself — this isn't just about Vale. You don't drink whiskey this slow for business."
Dante ignored him, turning back to the window. Below, the city sprawled, ruthless and unyielding. Somewhere out there, Serena was breaking, her world collapsing piece by piece.
And though he told himself it was strategy, that she was just a pawn in the larger war Vale had left behind, something deep in his chest twisted at the thought of her tears.
"No," Dante murmured finally, more to himself than to Andres. "Not yet. Let her bleed. Then she'll come to me on her own."
And when she did, she would learn that not every man lied. Not every man betrayed.
Some of them destroyed — but never without reason.