The morning sunlight poured through the curtains, but for Serena, the day felt gray. Her eyes were puffy from the night before, and no amount of cold water splashed on her face could wash away the ache in her chest.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Jade was already there, hands on her small bump, humming softly while she sliced apples. Chloe leaned against the counter with coffee, and Maya scrolled her phone, legs crossed on a stool.
All three of them looked up.
"Yikes," Chloe said gently. "You look like you fought with your pillow and lost."
Serena tried to laugh, but the sound came out hollow. "Just didn't sleep much."
Jade's smile was soft, maternal in a way she hadn't been before pregnancy. "You don't have to talk about it, but… don't shut us out either. We're here."
Serena's throat tightened. She wanted to tell them everything—that Ethan had used her, that he'd made her feel disposable—but the words stuck. Instead, she mumbled something about stress and reached for tea.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. Ethan. Again.
She flipped it face down.
Maya raised a brow. "Still calling?"
Serena nodded, biting her lip.
Chloe made a face. "Block him. He doesn't deserve even a second of your battery life."
Serena forced a small smile, but her chest ached. Her friends were right. But cutting Ethan off felt like cutting away a part of herself. She wasn't ready.
And yet… when she closed her eyes, it wasn't Ethan's face she saw. It was Dante's. His sharp gaze, his calm voice, the way he'd stood between her and Ethan like a wall no one could break.
Why did thinking of him steady her when it should terrify her?
Across the city, Dante's office buzzed with quiet activity. Andres strolled in with a thick folder and a coffee, tossing both onto Dante's desk.
"Newsflash," Andres said, plopping into a chair. "Our boy Ethan isn't just a spoiled brat. He's been sniffing around people tied to the Serrano family."
Dante's eyes sharpened. "Serrano."
Andres nodded. "Yeah. The same family that tried to bleed Vale dry twenty years ago. Looks like the debt wasn't settled."
For the first time in hours, Dante leaned back, his jaw tight. "So it's true. They're using Ethan to get close to her."
Andres smirked. "Using her as bait, more like. Classic move—go after the daughter, weaken the legacy, dig out old secrets."
Dante drummed his fingers against the desk, his expression unreadable. Inside, though, something burned. The thought of Serena being tangled in Serrano games made his blood run hot.
"She has no idea," Dante muttered. "And that makes her vulnerable."
Andres tilted his head. "Vulnerable? Or precious?"
Dante shot him a glare.
But Andres just grinned, sipping his coffee. "I'm just saying—you sound less like a mafia boss protecting an asset and more like a man protecting a woman."
Dante didn't answer. He turned his gaze to the file, Serena's name printed neatly across the cover. His thumb brushed against it unconsciously, like a silent claim.
That night, Serena sat at her desk, staring at her phone. Ethan's messages piled up: I'm sorry. Let's talk. Please don't shut me out.
Her stomach twisted. She deleted them one by one.
When her drawer stuck halfway, she tugged harder—and found the folded note Dante had once sent her at the restaurant. She shouldn't have kept it. She shouldn't even be thinking about him. But her fingers lingered on the paper, her heart beating faster.
On the other side of the city, Dante stood by his window, city lights glowing beneath him. Andres had gone home, leaving him in silence. He sipped his whiskey, but his eyes weren't on the skyline. They were on the memory of her—her pale face, her trembling hands, the fire in her when she stood against Ethan despite the tears in her eyes.
Both of them, in different places, reached for what they shouldn't—Serena holding onto Dante's note, Dante holding onto Serena's image.
Neither willing to admit it.
Neither able to stop it.
The fracture had already begun.
And the crossroads were waiting.