Serena’s POV
When the doorbell rang around noon, I knew it was Eleanor before the housekeeper announced her.
"You look terrible," was her greeting as she breezed past into the living room, pulling a sleek laptop from her bag.
"Good to see you too," I replied dryly, following her.
Eleanor’s expression softened montarily. "Sorry. I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight tracking this down, and what I found..." She shook her head. "You need to see this."
She placed the laptop on the coffee table and opened a video file. "I contacted everyone who was on that cruise three years ago. Called in favors, tracked down security footage. This is from the ship’s monitoring system."
The screen showed the upper deck of the luxury yacht where I’d attended that fateful charity gala. I recognized my younger self, wearing that erald green dress I’d loved so much. The footage quality wasn’t perfect, but good enough to see that I was standing near the railing, champagne flute in hand.
"Look who keeps hovering around you," Eleanor pointed.
My stomach tightened as I recognized Olivia, circling like a shark. She’d approach, say sothing, then retreat, only to return minutes later. The pattern continued for nearly twenty minutes of footage.
"The caras don’t cover the exact spot where you went overboard," Eleanor explained, fast-forwarding slightly. "It’s a blind spot. But watch this."
The footage showed Olivia and walking toward that blind spot. We disappeared from view. Then, remarkably, only Olivia returned – looking around furtively before quickly walking away from the scene.
"Eight minutes later, a crew mber notices sothing in the water and raises the alarm," Eleanor continued, showing additional footage of the resulting chaos. "But by then, Olivia’s already mingling with other guests, acting shocked when soone ntions you’re missing."
I felt sick. The woman I’d considered my best friend, whom I’d shared dreams and secrets with, had tried to kill . The evidence was circumstantial but damning.
"I trusted her completely," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I would have done anything for her."
Eleanor’s hand found mine, squeezing tightly. "I know. That’s why she targeted you – your loyalty made you vulnerable."
"And now she’s back, trying to use again to get to Ryan and Blackwood Enterprises." The realization made angry – a cold, crystalline fury unlike anything I’d felt before.
Eleanor’s eyes glead with righteous indignation. "Let confront her. One conversation with , and she’ll be on the first flight out of the country."
"No," I said firmly, surprising even myself with my resolve. "If we confront her without concrete proof, she’ll just deny everything. I want her to admit what she did."
"What are you suggesting?" Eleanor asked, eyebrow raised.
"I’m setting a trap," I replied, my mind already formulating a plan. "At Vivian’s one-month celebration. Olivia will be there – she’s been hinting for an invitation for weeks. After the party, I’ll lead her sowhere private and make her confess."
"That’s dangerous, Serena," Eleanor warned.
"I’ll be careful. We’ll have security nearby." My determination grew with every word. "I won’t let her walk away from this. Not after what she did."
The days leading up to Vivian’s celebration passed in a blur of preparations and planning. I didn’t tell Ryan about the footage – not yet. I wanted absolute certainty before bringing him into this. He had enough on his plate with work, and I knew how protective he could be.
The day of the celebration arrived with perfect weather – sunshine streaming through the windows of our ho as guests began to arrive. The house was transford with delicate pink and gold decorations, fresh flowers in every room, and a magnificent cake centerpiece.
Ryan stayed close to my side, his hand resting possessively at the small of my back as we greeted our guests. I felt his eyes on often, checking if I was getting tired, always ready to step in if I needed a break.
"You’ve outdone yourself," he murmured against my ear as we surveyed the elegant gathering. "This is beautiful."
"Only the best for our daughter," I smiled, glancing over to where Vivian was being cooed over by Ryan’s grandmother.
My smile faltered slightly when I spotted Olivia entering, wearing a dress that cost more than most people’s monthly salary, carrying an elaborately wrapped gift. The sight of her made my blood run cold, but I maintained my composure.
"Serena! Ryan!" she exclaid, approaching us with practiced grace. "What a gorgeous celebration. And this must be for the precious angel."
She handed the package – heavy and expensive-feeling. "Just a little sothing for sweet Vivian."
"How thoughtful," I replied, my voice warm while my eyes remained cool. "Thank you for coming, Olivia."
Throughout the party, I noticed her eyes following Ryan whenever he moved through the room, her laughter too loud when he was nearby, her touches lingering too long when she greeted him. It was so obvious now that I was watching for it.
The celebration went off without a hitch. Vivian, dressed in a custom-made gown that Ryan had specially ordered from Paris, remained surprisingly content throughout, only fussing slightly when passed among too many adoring relatives.
As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, I found my opportunity. Olivia was lingering, clearly hoping for so private ti with Ryan.
"Olivia," I called, approaching her with a champagne flute. "Before you go, there’s sothing fascinating I wanted to show you."
Her eyes brightened with interest. "Oh? What is it?"
"I’ve been going through so old recordings recently," I said casually, keeping my voice light. "Found so interesting footage from that charity cruise three years ago. You rember – the night I fell overboard?"
The change in her expression was subtle but unmistakable – a flicker of alarm quickly masked by curiosity.
"That awful night," she sighed dramatically. "I still have nightmares about it sotis, thinking we’d lost you forever."
"Yes, quite terrible," I agreed. "The footage is upstairs in the attic study. I’ve been aning to show soone who was there... get their perspective on what they see."
Olivia hesitated, but her curiosity – or perhaps fear – won out. "I’d love to see it."
As we headed toward the stairs, I caught Eleanor’s eye across the room. She gave a barely perceptible nod, confirmation that everything was in place.
"After you," I said, gesturing Olivia up the stairs, my heart pounding not with fear, but with determination. The woman who had once tried to end my life was about to face her reckoning.
And I would be the one to deliver it.
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