Serena’s POV
I gently touched my lower abdon, my hand trembling, as Ryan took his call in the corner of my room.
Should I tell him? Did he deserve to know?
Questions swirled through my mind like leaves caught in a storm. If I told him, would he try to use the baby to control ? Would he suddenly beco the attentive husband he never was before? Or worse—would he remain indifferent to this child as he had been to ?
"I need to go," Ryan’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts as he approached, already rebuttoning his shirt with quick, efficient movents.
His eyes never left mine, searching for sothing I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find. "There’s an ergency at the office."
"Of course," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "It’s probably better this way."
He paused, frowning slightly. "You were about to tell sothing important."
"It was nothing," I lied, avoiding his penetrating gaze.To my relief, he didn’t press .
Then Ryan paused at the door, his hand on the knob. "Serena, about what just happened..."
"It was a mistake," I cut him off quickly. "The elevator incident, the adrenaline... It’s just biology, Ryan. Nothing more."
Sothing flickered across his face—disappointnt, maybe even hurt—but he masked it quickly. "If that’s what you need to tell yourself."
Then he was gone, leaving alone with my racing thoughts and the phantom sensation of his touch still lingering on my skin.
I convinced myself that night that it was just the adrenaline—a textbook case of misplaced emotional response.
The danger in the elevator had triggered sothing primal between us, nothing more.
What I didn’t anticipate was Ryan’s persistence.
The very next day, a sleek black Bentley appeared outside Dreamland Studio precisely at closing ti. And there he was, leaning against the car door, arms crossed, waiting for .
I pretended not to see him and took a cab ho instead.
The next day, he was there again. And the day after that. And the day after that.
By the fifth day, my employees couldn’t stop whispering about it.
"Mr. Blackwood is pursuing Ms. Quinn again," I overheard Celeste telling Lucy as I passed the design room. "But she doesn’t seem interested at all."
"I’d be dreaming with a smile if soone with a car like that was waiting for every day," Lucy sighed dramatically.
"Well, Ms. Quinn is gorgeous. It makes sense she’d have soone like that chasing after her."
I quickened my pace, my cheeks burning.
This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid—becoming office gossip. I needed to put a stop to Ryan’s daily appearances before rumors started affecting our professional reputation.
The chatter died instantly when Maya stepped into the room, giving everyone her signature "get back to work" glare. I’d never been more grateful for my best friend’s intimidating presence.
She followed into my office, moving to the window to peer down at the now-familiar Bentley parked outside.
"So," she said, turning to face with raised eyebrows, "what’s the deal with Ryan Blackwood? Is he seriously trying to win you back?"
I sighed, setting down my pen. "Who knows what goes through that man’s head?"
"And you’re just going to keep ignoring him?"
I shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant than I felt. "Let him wait if that’s what he wants. I’m treating him like air."
Maya snorted. "Good strategy. n like him aren’t used to being ignored. It’s probably driving him crazy." She tilted her head, studying .
"But seriously, do you think he’s actually had so kind of revelation? That he wants to remarry you?"
"Even if he has, it’s too little, too late," I said firmly, though my hand instinctively moved to rest on my still-flat stomach. The baby—our baby—was a complication I wasn’t ready to factor into this equation.
"You’re right," Maya nodded. "A man like that doesn’t just wake up enlightened one day. He’s probably putting on an act. The mont he gets what he wants, he’ll revert to his old ways."
I didn’t respond. Part of wondered if that was true. The desperation in his eyes when he kissed in the hotel room had seed genuine.
But then again, I’d spent three years convincing myself he cared when all evidence pointed to the contrary.
That evening, I stayed late to review several pending designs. Julian decided to stay as well, nursing a cup of coffee while eyeing Ryan’s car that hadn’t budged from its spot all day.
"Need any help?" he asked, appearing in my doorway after most of the staff had gone ho.
I smiled but shook my head. "I’ve got about thirty more minutes of work. You should head ho, Julian. It’s getting late."
"Actually," he hesitated, glancing out the window, "I thought I might wait and drive you ho. To save you from... unwanted attention."
My hands stilled on the keyboard. Julian’s offer was thoughtful, but I couldn’t help wondering if there was more behind it than simple concern.
"That’s very kind, but—"
"I insist," he cut in gently. "That man has been harassing you all week. The least I can do is make sure you get ho safely."
I sat in silence, conflicted. On one hand, accepting Julian’s offer felt like using him as a shield against Ryan. On the other, I was tired of Ryan’s daily vigils outside my workplace.
As I contemplated my response, my thoughts drifted to the man waiting outside. Why was Ryan suddenly willing to spend hours each day just waiting for ?
The Ryan I knew valued efficiency above all else; wasting ti was anathema to him. Had he truly changed? Or was this just another calculated move in whatever ga he was playing?
Even if he was sincere, could his persistence now erase three years of coldness and indifference? The mory of lying awake night after night, wondering what I had done wrong, why he couldn’t love the way I loved him, still cut deep.
"Serena?" Julian’s voice pulled from my thoughts. "If you don’t mind asking... Maya ntioned you once said you’d never leave him. What changed?"
My body tensed at the unexpected question. How could I possibly explain the complexity of my marriage to Ryan? The hope, the disappointnt, the gradual realization that I was chasing a mirage?
"I just couldn’t do it anymore," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was tired."
Tired of being invisible in my own ho. Tired of competing with a ghost. Tired of loving soone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love back.
I closed my computer, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here, trapped between mories and questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
"I’m finished for the night. If you’re still offering that ride..."
Julian’s face lit up. "Absolutely."
We turned off the lights and locked up the studio. The night air was cool against my skin as we stepped outside, and I was imdiately aware of movent by the curb.
Ryan stood there, looking impossibly handso in his tailored suit, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. His expression when he spotted Julian beside was thunderous.
"Serena," he said, his voice tight as he approached, pointedly ignoring my companion. "I thought we might talk over dinner."
He extended the roses toward , his eyes seeking mine with an intensity that still made my heart skip. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us. About how badly I ssed everything up. I’m hoping you can find it in your heart to forgive ."
I stared at the roses, rembering how many tis I’d hoped for exactly this kind of gesture during our marriage. How many nights I’d cried myself to sleep wishing he would look at the way he was looking at now.
But it was too late. Far too late.
"Ryan," I said, crossing my arms defensively, "you need to stop coming here. It’s disruptive to the business, and frankly, it’s uncomfortable for everyone."
"I just want to talk—"
"I don’t need you to pick up or drive ho," I continued firmly. "Please respect that."
Before Ryan could respond, Julian stepped forward with a mischievous smile that seed completely at odds with his usually reserved deanor.
"No need to worry about Serena getting ho safely, Mr. Ex-man," he said, dangling his car keys. "Consider it my way of repaying her for taking in at the studio. I’ll make sure she gets ho just fine."
He turned to . "Shall we, Serena?"
I nodded, grateful for the interruption. "Thank you, Julian."
As I climbed into Julian’s car and buckled my seatbelt, I couldn’t help but feel a perverse satisfaction when Julian honked twice in Ryan’s direction—a childish but effective dismissal.
Through the rearview mirror, I caught a final glimpse of Ryan standing alone on the sidewalk, the roses hanging limply at his side, his proud shoulders slumped in defeat.
For a mont—just a mont—I almost told Julian to stop the car.
But then I rembered the years of loneliness, the hollow marriage, the pain of loving soone who saw right through .
I turned my eyes forward and didn’t look back.
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