Two days later, Sunday.
I woke up to the oppressive stillness of the morning, the silence so heavy it pressed down on my chest. For a moment, I stayed lying there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of uneaten meals and unsaid words pressing into me. A gentle knock at the door finally broke the quiet, and the familiar voice of Sui, my ever-loyal attendant, reached me.
"Are you all right, Lady Serena?" Sui's voice carried a quiet concern that immediately made me aware of how thinly my composure was holding. "You skipped breakfast this morning..."
I let out a sigh, a sound too loud, too human for the stillness of the room. "I'm fine," I said, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.
Sui paused, as if sensing that I was lying—but she didn't press. That pause, that hesitation, told me she knew something was off. And she was right. I hadn't been myself lately. Ever since returning from President Harold's manor, a shadow had settled over me, a weight I couldn't shake. I barely touched my meals, picking at fruit here and there, but mostly letting the food go cold. Sui must be wondering why I had reverted so quickly to the old Serena, the one who carried burdens alone, who smiled when it was easier to cry. She had been with me through every step of managing the hotel, silently observing, a steady presence in my life, and she deserved better than the distant version of me I had become.
"Sui," I called, my voice flat, careful not to betray the turmoil inside me.
"Yes, Lady Serena?" she replied instantly, her tone careful, attentive.
"I can't believe the hotel's anniversary celebration is only two days away," I admitted, letting a hint of vulnerability slip through. "Even I'm feeling nervous!"
Sui's lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. "You've done a wonderful job organizing the event in such a short period of time," she said softly. "But this event is my first official task, as well as my first public appearance as the owner of the Serenity Hotel." She hesitated, then added, as if trying to ease my anxieties, "I know the stakes are high, but you've handled everything perfectly."
Her words should have comforted me, yet a low hum of worry remained lodged in my chest. The thought of standing in front of everyone, the eyes of guests, staff, and media upon me—it was overwhelming. Even as the hotel's owner, the responsibility felt like a tightrope stretched thin over a pit of expectations and potential failure.
Sui continued, her voice softening further. "I received a message from the hotel earlier… the yellow flowers we're annually gifted with have produced more blossoms than usual this year. I think they'll help make this year's event even more of a sight to behold." She nodded once, a small but confident gesture. "The hotel also reported that the rest of the preparations have been made without any issues. Hopefully, the actual event will proceed just as smoothly."
I let her words wash over me. The hotel, the staff, the event—all of it was ready. Yet, the thought of the spotlight, of every eye scrutinizing me, made my stomach twist.
"And the gown I was fitted for the other day has arrived," she added delicately, her voice tinged with worry. "The designer will come by tomorrow morning to check the fit. But… since you haven't been eating much lately, I'm a bit worried you may have lost more weight…"
I turned to meet her gaze, and the worry etched into her features struck me. It wasn't just about appearances—it was about me, my well-being. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that my recent preoccupations had blinded me to the care she had always shown me. Sui had been my constant, my anchor, and I had let my shadows take precedence over everything else.
"I… I'll be fine, Sui," I murmured, though the conviction in my voice was weaker than I intended. But I knew she wouldn't be convinced so easily. She deserved more than words. She deserved action, reassurance, and for me to take care of myself as she had always cared for me.
For a long moment, we simply looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between us. I was the owner of the hotel, the woman in charge, the one who bore the weight of responsibilities—but even I could not face it alone. Not when Sui, quietly steadfast, reminded me that sometimes strength was not just in standing tall, but in leaning on those who cared.
The morning light fell through the curtains, warm and golden, catching on the dust motes that danced lazily in the air. I drew a deep breath, trying to steady the storm within me. The anniversary celebration was only two days away, and I would face it—but I would not forget that I had someone by my side, someone who saw through the veil of composure and cared enough to worry.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough to keep me grounded, at least for now.
Sui nodded, a gesture of quiet confidence as she relayed the positive reports. "The hotel also reported that the rest of the preparations have been made without any issues. Hopefully, the actual event will proceed just as smoothly."
A slight nod was all I could manage in return. My mind was still tangled with the memory of President Harold's manor, a memory that clung to me like a shadow, leaving me distant and restless. The echo of polished floors, the faint scent of expensive cologne, and the weight of the eyes that had seemed to scrutinize me from every corner—none of it left me.
"And the gown I'll be wearing that evening, which I was fitted for the other day, has arrived," Sui continued, her voice softening as she broached a more delicate topic. "The designer will come by tomorrow morning to check the fit for you. But since you haven't been eating much lately, I am a bit worried that I may have lost more weight—"
I raised my hand slightly, cutting her off. "Sui."
"Yes, Lady Serena?" she replied immediately, her eyes meeting mine with an unwavering attentiveness.
For a moment, I let my gaze wander, resting on a detail I had overheard before, though it had previously seemed insignificant. "Frederick… Did you say he was a soldier?"
Sui blinked, the concern for my health momentarily replaced by surprise. "Ah, yes… I believe so."
My eyes drifted past her shoulder, focused on some distant, intangible point. "Is there anything else you know about him? Like his birthplace… or anything else out of the ordinary?"
I could see the unspoken question in her eyes—why was I suddenly probing into Frederick's past? She hesitated, a faint tension appearing in her usually composed posture.
"No, all I know are his name, age, and that he used to be a soldier…" Sui's brow furrowed slightly, the faintest shadow of worry crossing her face. "Shall I look into it? If you'd like, I can do some digging—"
"No, never mind," I interrupted quickly, shaking my head as if to dispel the thought entirely. My curiosity had flared up suddenly, an impulsive need for knowledge that I wasn't yet ready to act upon. Letting anyone else dig into it felt like relinquishing control over something I wasn't ready to confront.
Sui simply bowed, the professional demeanor settling back over her features. "Very well, Lady Serena. Also, you are scheduled for an outing with Sir Eiser later today."
I straightened in my seat, the mention of the outing cutting through the fog of my thoughts like a welcome distraction. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the endless spiraling of my mind—a momentary escape before the looming pressures of the hotel anniversary.
"It is nearly time. Would you like to change now?" she asked, her voice gentle yet efficient, the way it always was when she guided me through my day.
"All right." I rose to my feet, the luxurious fabric of my robe shifting around me like a quiet reminder of the world of privilege I had inherited—and the responsibilities that came with it. The weight of the past few days pressed against my chest, but I forced myself to stand tall. For the Serenity Hotel, for the image I must project, I would set aside my personal gloom and don the mask of composure, grace, and poise.
As I moved toward the wardrobe, I allowed my mind to wander briefly, circling back to Frederick, to the mystery of him, to the inexplicable pull that had made his past suddenly relevant to me. But there would be time for questions later. For now, the world demanded a Serena who was unshakable, a Serena who could smile and navigate the delicate currents of expectation without faltering. And I would meet that challenge, at least for the day.
"Sera?" I spoke the name aloud, the word a low rumble in my chest. My eyes stayed locked on the subordinate across from me, the man who had been quietly gathering intel on her, now leaning forward with a sleek black dossier in hand.
"Yes," he said, his voice precise, almost reverent. "It appears she has been purchasing various works of art under the pseudonym of 'Sera.' And the warehouse contains all the pieces she has acquired to date."
He extended the file toward me. I reached out, taking it with a controlled grab, careful not to show more curiosity than necessary—though my mind was already racing.
"Here is a list of her key purchases," he continued, "and some basic information on the warehouse, which isn't too far from here. I'll compile a more detailed list later; this one was put together rather hastily."
I flipped the file open with a quiet flick of the wrist, scanning the names of the works, the dates of purchase, the prices. Hmm… I knew the Serenity family had always been passionate about art and culture, but this… this was on an entirely different level.
The subordinate leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorially. "It's a large, two-story warehouse. From the outside, it looks like a family home. There were approximately ten security guards on the premises."
I absorbed the information, my mind working through the logistics and implications. To purchase that much art, maintain a warehouse of that size, and hire security personnel… she must have spent a substantial sum. And yet, how had I remained completely unaware of this?
The man's gaze sharpened behind his spectacles. "Everything to do with the artwork was managed by Lady Serena personally. None of the funds came from the hotel or the manor—she financed it entirely herself."
That revelation made me pause. A separate operation, entirely removed from her family's business interests, hidden even from those closest to her… Intriguing. I leaned back slightly, closing the dossier just enough to gauge my own reaction.
"I also learned something interesting about Sera while investigating the warehouse," I prompted, letting my tone carry just enough curiosity to encourage elaboration.
The subordinate's expression held a mixture of awe and restrained surprise. "The scale of her operation… it's enormous. She's… meticulous. Every piece, every transaction, every detail—she manages it all herself."
I closed the dossier fully, the snap of the cover echoing in the otherwise quiet room. This Serena—the one I thought I knew—was a mystery layered atop a secret. An art collector operating under a pseudonym, bankrolling a private warehouse of invaluable pieces, managing everything personally… It was far more intriguing, far more calculated than I had anticipated.
And somewhere, beneath my professional detachment, a small part of me couldn't help but admire her. She wasn't merely the heiress to the Serenity name—she was an enigma, a force all her own.
I watched the blonde-haired man—my trusted informant—as he methodically laid out the scope of Serena's hidden life. "Her name is known to practically everyone in the art world," he stated, his tone flat, almost robotic with facts. "And in the last three years, her capital has grown astronomically."
A muscle in my jaw twitched as I flipped through the dossier, landing on the financial summaries he referenced. My eyes narrowed. "Will you take a look at the next page?" he prompted.
I did, and the figure made my breath hitch slightly. "700,000 Perrubles?" I asked, the amount staggering. "Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?"
He shook his head earnestly, the seriousness in his expression unmistakable. "I couldn't believe it either, so I double-checked with the bank. It's all accurate."
I let the paper rest in my hands, absorbing the number. Seven hundred thousand Perrubles. More than the total wealth of most middle-class families—just in liquid capital. And that was only part of it. My mind worked rapidly, calculating possibilities. What could she have done in the past three years to increase her capital so dramatically?
The informant spoke again, his voice deliberate. "She must also have cash on hand, and when you factor in the value of the artwork in the warehouse… I'd estimate the total value of her assets is far higher than that figure."
He fell silent, letting me process the enormity of it.
Three years ago… yes, that was roughly the turning point. I remembered what had been publicly known—or, rather, not known—about her at the time. Serena had a history, one of recklessness rather than strategic accumulation.
"…Serena either overspent or lost money at a number of auctions," I recalled, the memory sharp. "I found out because a document was sent to the manor regarding the penalties she owed. Things quieted down after that, and I assumed she had stopped." I remembered the quiet reprimand I had given her at the time, the careful guidance meant to steer her back on track. I had even brought it up in a recent conversation, lightly, as a reminder of past missteps.
But now—now, the evidence before me was staggering. She wasn't just stabilizing her finances; she was secretly building a fortune and maintaining a massive, private art collection, all while keeping it hidden from everyone, including the manor.
This wasn't a minor shift. This wasn't a mood swing. This was a transformation, deliberate and meticulous. The woman I was about to go on an outing with—the Serena I thought I knew—was far more complex, far more formidable than I had ever imagined.
I closed the dossier slowly, the weight of the revelations pressing against my chest. She had concealed wealth, intelligence, and resourcefulness—an entire side of herself that even I hadn't seen. And yet, I was expected to spend the afternoon with her as if nothing had changed.
The thought sent a strange thrill through me. This outing would no longer be a simple matter of polite company or casual observation. No… it would be an exercise in understanding the woman who had so thoroughly hidden her power, her cunning, and her ambition.
Who was she really? And more importantly—how would I navigate the presence of a Serena who was no longer the girl I once thought I understood?
:
My mind continued to churn through the financial reports, each number, each acquisition, layering onto the last, building a picture far more intricate than I had imagined.
"Also…" my informant began, stepping closer, lowering his voice slightly, as though the walls themselves might overhear. "As I was looking into all this… it became clear to me why Lady Serena started collecting art."
I raised an eyebrow, prompting him silently to continue.
"Most of the artwork she purchased in the beginning belonged to the Serenity Family. Or rather, had belonged to the Serenity Family in the past, to be precise. The artwork you sold after you came to this manor."
A sudden clarity washed over me, connecting past and present in a way that left me momentarily breathless. So this was why she had seemed so reckless back then—so determined, so stubborn, yet failing so spectacularly at times.
I thought back to the early days of my marriage to Serena, to the heavy burden I had assumed almost immediately. My first priority had been to stabilize the Serenity family's finances, to confront the mountain of debts and the tangle of obligations left by generations of careless indulgence.
To pay back those debts, I sold much of what they had owned—buildings, lands, estates… even properties that held sentimental value. Only a select few, those with the highest potential for future growth, had been spared. It had been a necessary, painful purging of the family's books, a practical cleansing that left little room for sentiment.
I remembered our clashes, sharp and fiery, moments that had seemed so trivial at the time but now glowed with new significance. I saw her face in my mind, challenging me—rebellious, defiant, unwilling to yield.
As a result, she had ended up signing contracts that would have harmed her family's legacy, and she had been ripped off at auctions, her anger and frustration spilling over in words I barely understood then.
Even when she caused chaos, I had managed it quietly, never criticizing her openly. I had prided myself on protecting her—even from her own perceived incompetence.
Then, her angry, defensive words returned unbidden: Wasn't it you who couldn't stand your own incompetence and gave up?
Now, with the dossier and the warehouse details before me, the truth crystallized. Her "foolishness" had never been mere recklessness or wasteful spending. She wasn't just losing money; she had been meticulously reclaiming the Serenity family's legacy. Each failed auction, each mistake, each perceived misstep had been a step in a hidden, furious process of restoration.
The vast, hidden art collection wasn't a hobby or a whim—it was a quiet, resolute act of defiance and dedication. Piece by piece, she had been reclaiming what had been stripped from her family, perfecting her methods in secret while the world assumed she was simply frivolous or reckless.
I closed my eyes briefly, letting the pieces fall into place. The transformation I had witnessed in her recently—the confidence, the precision, the self-possession—it wasn't merely personal growth. It was the culmination of years of careful, deliberate planning, born of a fire I had only glimpsed in flashes before.
Serena wasn't just the woman I had married. She was a force quietly rebuilding the Serenity name, a storm cloaked in grace and secrecy, one calculated acquisition at a time.
And now… I was about to meet that storm face to face.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of my past actions settle heavily on me. Every sale I had made—the properties, the estates, the jewels, the paintings, the sculptures, even the furniture—had been necessary. All of it had been a calculated effort to save the Serenity family's finances from collapse.
But one piece of art had mattered more than all the others. One painting had ignited a quiet war between us, a battle I hadn't understood at the time.
I pictured her there, a girl on the brink of womanhood, standing rigid and defiant in front of the painting she couldn't afford to keep but desperately wanted to protect. The piece itself was striking: according to Sui, an oil painting by Whip Valamer titled The Color of Submersion.
It was more than just a painting. The Serenity family's history was wrapped up in it. Bellatia Serenity had gone to great lengths, investing not only money but effort and passion, to acquire it. It had been cherished by her and her husband alike—a tangible emblem of their legacy.
I could see her now, standing before the massive frame, her body tense with grief and desperation. She cut a tragic figure, eyes wide, glistening with tears that threatened to spill. She looked up at me, and in that gaze, I saw not just fear, but pride, love, and a silent plea that pierced deeper than words ever could.
"Please don't touch this painting. Not this one."
Her words echoed in my mind, raw and unforgettable. That day—the day I sold that painting—was the first and last time that girl ever asked a favor of me. I had no choice but to sell it; the painting's renown meant it would fetch a considerable sum, a necessary sacrifice for the family's survival.
Now, with the dossier, the warehouse det