Serena’s POV
I just wanted to have lunch with a friend. A simple, fucking lunch. Was that too much to ask for after everything I’d been through?
But no—there he was, Ryan fucking Blackwood, standing at our table looking like soone had stolen his favorite toy.
A toy he’d thrown away himself.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" As Julian walked away,I kept my voice low but couldn’t hide the razor edge. My hands trembled slightly under the table. "Following ? Spying on ?"
His jaw muscle twitched—that familiar tension I’d seen a thousand tis—but he didn’t back down. Those steel-blue eyes just drilled into mine, unapologetic.
"And you ca running like so jealous husband," I continued, shaking my head. My chest felt tight, like sothing was squeezing my lungs. "Newsflash, Ryan—you divorced . You don’t get to play that role anymore."
"Do you love him?" The question burst from his mouth, raw and unfiltered.
I blinked, knocked completely off-balance. "What?"
"This Julian." His gaze burned into , sothing wild behind those eyes. "Are you in love with him?"
My stomach twisted into knots. Was he fucking serious? After tossing aside like yesterday’s newspaper, after making feel invisible for three goddamn years, he had the nerve to ask about my feelings?
"That’s none of your business," I snapped, crossing my arms tight against my chest, building a wall between us.
His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "It is if you were seeing him during our marriage."
The accusation hit like a slap. Heat surged through my body so fast I thought I might combust right there in this overpriced restaurant.
"Is that what you think? That I was unfaithful?" My voice cracked embarrassingly, not from guilt but from the sheer fucking audacity of it. "After everything—after all I did trying to make you see —you think I was cheating?"
"What am I supposed to think?" His voice rose slightly, that careful control slipping. "So guy I’ve never even heard of suddenly appears, calling himself your long-ti friend. And you’re smiling at him like—"
He stopped abruptly, but I heard the rest anyway. Like you never smiled at .
Well, maybe if he’d given sothing to smile about during those three years of emotional starvation, I would have.
"Julian has been a friend and professional contact for years," I said, ice forming around each word. "Which you’d know if you’d ever bothered to take five minutes to ask about my work—or my life."
Sothing flickered across Ryan’s face—a crack in that perfect mask—but it vanished just as quickly.
"I’m sorry to interrupt." Julian’s smooth voice slid between us like a lifeline. "But Serena, we should probably head out."
Thank god for Julian. "You’re right. We should go."
I grabbed my purse, painfully aware of Ryan’s gaze burning holes in my back. My hands weren’t as steady as I wanted them to be. Damn it.
"Serena..." Ryan’s voice had softened now, almost pleading.
"Goodbye, Ryan." I stood taller, channeling every ounce of strength I had. "Please don’t do this again."
Julian moved closer to , ready to escape this disaster, but sothing in Ryan’s eyes told this wasn’t over. There was a desperate intensity there that made my stupid heart skip despite everything.
And then—
"Well, well, look what we have here." That voice—sugary-sweet poison wrapped in designer clothes.
My entire body tensed before I even turned around.
"The divorce papers are barely dry and already with another man?" Ivy’s fake concern dripped with satisfaction. "I always knew you weren’t good enough for Ryan."
I faced her, keeping my expression cold and blank. "Ivy. Still showing up uninvited where you’re not wanted, I see."
She was dressed to kill—literally, if looks could murder. Her erald-green dress probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent, clinging to her body like she’d been poured into it. Those golden waves bounced with each exaggerated tilt of her head.
"Oh, please," she scoffed, stepping closer, the scent of her expensive perfu assaulting my nose. "I was just telling Ryan what everyone already knows. You were probably sleeping with this guy"—she flicked her hand dismissively at Julian—"the whole ti you were married. No wonder Ryan was miserable."
Sothing snapped inside . For years, I’d swallowed her venom, endured her snide remarks and petty sabotage because that’s what good wives did. Be gracious. Don’t make a scene. Rise above it.
But that doormat version of was dead and buried.
"You know what, Ivy?" I stepped forward, dropping my voice to sothing quiet and dangerous. "Your pathetic obsession with Ryan was sad enough when I was his wife. Now it’s just embarrassing."
Her eyes widened slightly; Little Miss Perfect wasn’t used to pushing back.
"How dare you—" she started, mouth twisting in anger.
"No. How dare you?" I cut her off, my voice sharpening. "You’ve been circling Ryan like a vulture for years, just waiting for scraps. And here you still are, throwing yourself at a man who doesn’t want you."
Ryan moved forward. "Serena—"
"Don’t defend her," I snapped, whipping around to face him. "She’s been undermining since day one, and you’ve let her. Honestly? You two deserve each other."
Ivy’s cheeks flushed crimson. "You think you’re special? You’re nothing! Just so nobody he married out of pity. I heard you couldn’t even keep his interest in bed."
Julian started toward her, protective anger radiating off him, but I lifted my hand to stop him. This was my fight.
"That’s enough," Ryan said, his voice suddenly ice cold.
But Ivy was too far gone, her jealousy spilling out like toxic waste. "I always knew she was nothing but a gold-digging slut! Ryan, I’ve been telling you all along—"
"I said ENOUGH!" Ryan’s roar silenced the entire restaurant. Forks froze mid-air, conversations died, and every head turned our way.
Ivy went still for a mont, blinking in shock, before her gaze snapped back to with pure hatred.
"You bitch," she hissed—and before I could react, she lunged.
Her hands slamd against my shoulders, the force shocking backward. We were standing near the staircase that led down from the restaurant’s elevated dining area.
Everything slowed down. My heel slipped on the polished wood. My arms windmilled desperately, grasping for sothing—anything—but my fingers closed on empty air.
Ryan’s face was the last thing I saw—his expression transforming from anger to horror in slow motion, his body lunging toward —too late.
Then gravity took over.
The world spun violently as I tumbled backward down the stairs.
Pain exploded through my body in disjointed bursts, but it was the sharp crack at the back of my skull that stole my breath.
The restaurant ceiling blurred above , voices fading into distant echoes.
And then—nothing but darkness.
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