the whole ride home, the city lights streak past like broken memories, gold and red and bruised purple, the exact colors my heart feels tonight. i keep my chin high, but my hands… they shake. not because i'm weak, but because i'm changing so fast i barely recognize myself.
the heiress they tried to bury is waking up.
and she's angry.
she's hungry.
she's done being quiet.
the car stops in front of the house—no, the prison—i grew up in. the walls look taller tonight, colder. i step out, the air thick with the smell of rain and jasmine. somewhere far away, thunder rumbles as if the sky's trying to warn someone. maybe it's warning them, not me.
my phone buzzes the moment i walk through the gate.
unknown number:
serena… come home. let's talk.
my heart clenches at the name attached to messages like that. Liam. always knowing exactly when to pull a string. always pretending he still has the right to.
i don't reply. not tonight. tonight the old serena is dead.
inside, the hallway is dim, one bulb flickering. the house always looked grand during the day, but at night you see the truth—every crack, every shadow, every lie stitched into the drywall. i walk quietly, but my heels echo like a clock counting down.
when i open my bedroom door, the first thing i see isn't the bed or the mirror.
it's the smashed vase from this morning, the one i threw when i found out the wedding was cancelled.
i didn't clean it up.
i left it exactly where it fell.
good.
i want the mess.
i want the reminder.
i want to see the pieces of the girl i used to be.
i kneel down, pick up a shard. the reflection inside it is sharp, cutting, almost someone else's.
"you deserved better," i whisper to the girl looking back at me. "but don't worry… better is coming."
my phone buzzes again. then again. then again.
ten messages.
all from him.
all begging.
i silence it.
i sit on my bed, exhale slowly, and open my laptop. the blue light hits my face, and suddenly i feel like the night is splitting into two versions of me—the girl who breaks and the girl who rebuilds. i choose rebuild.
my fingers hover before typing the words that change everything:
to: alexander blake
i'm in.
tell me what you need from me.
i stare at it for one long second.
then i hit send.
and just like that, the world shifts.
within two minutes, my phone rings. not a message. a call.
my chest tightens—not fear. adrenaline.
i pick up.
"you finally stopped running," alexander's voice comes through, low and smooth like velvet dipped in danger.
"i wasn't running," i say, lying because i'm tired of telling the truth to people who used it against me.
he chuckles softly. "sure. anyway… i'm heading over."
i shoot up from the bed. "wait—what? now?"
"yes. now."
"you can't just—"
"i'm already outside."
my breath stops.
i run to the window, pull the curtain aside.
there he is. leaning against his car, suit jacket undone, eyes lifted toward my window like he owns the air around him.
the rain starts falling lightly, and it looks like a scene ripped out of a movie—a dangerous man standing in the storm, waiting for me.
my heart stutters. a sharp contrast to the way it rotted for liam.
i walk downstairs slowly, each step a verdict. when i open the front door, the rain brushes my cheeks first, then his eyes meet mine.
god. he's even more unreal up close at night.
"you move fast," i murmur.
"you said you're in," he replies, taking one step forward. "i don't waste time."
i swallow. the air between us sizzles with something i'm not ready to name.
"so?" i whisper. "why are you here?"
he studies me, eyes dark but warm. "to make sure you're safe tonight. and to give you your first task."
"task?" i raise my chin. "what am i, your intern?"
he smirks. "if you were my intern, you'd quit in an hour."
the rain falls harder, and his hair gets slightly wet, giving him that maddeningly attractive, dangerous look. thunder rolls again, louder this time.
he glances toward the house. "they hurt you here, didn't they?"
i inhale sharply. "it doesn't matter."
"it does."
his voice drops.
"it matters to me."
those four words hit too deep. i look away before he reads everything in my eyes.
"what's the task?" i ask.
he pulls out a small envelope, hands it to me. "open it."
i open it slowly. inside—photos. documents. names.
my step-sister. liam. their families. their financial ties. their secrets.
"what is this?" i whisper.
"their weaknesses," alexander says. "i want you to learn them. tomorrow, your revenge begins."
revenge.
the word hits me like a drug.
i should feel scared. overwhelmed. guilty.
instead… i feel alive.
"serena," he says softly.
i look up.
he's close now. too close. close enough that i hear his breath, warm even in the cold rain.
"i'm not doing this for you," he says. "i'm doing it with you."
then he reaches up—slowly, giving me time to pull away—and tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
my breath catches.
my pulse jumps.
the rain feels hotter suddenly.
"goodnight," he murmurs, stepping back. "sleep well. tomorrow, we start."
he walks away, gets into his car, and drives into the night, leaving me standing in the rain with an envelope full of secrets and a heart beating way too fast.
i close the door behind me, lean against it, and smile for the first time in years—small, shaky, but real.
tomorrow, they'll finally see who i am.
tomorrow, the game changes.
tonight…
tonight is the night i stopped being afraid.