Chapter 4

Serena’s POV

I landed a massive project: coordinating the high-profile wedding of an industrial tycoon’s only daughter.

It was the largest budget I had ever handled in my career, and I was directing the entire production solo.

A week before the wedding, I sent Julian a message: "Saturday is the biggest event of my career. I'm running the entire floor. I want you there."

Julian replied instantly, swearing he would be there on time.

The afternoon before the wedding, Vivian invited me for coffee again.

She boldly announced that she would also be attending the reception as a guest, and she wanted to see whose side Julian would choose when the curtain went up.

Before she could finish her sentence, the private room door swung open.

Julian stood in the doorway, his expression darkening.

He marched inside, glaring at Vivian before turning his eyes on me. "What are you two doing here?"

I took a slow sip of warm water, completely composed. "I was just running through tomorrow's floral arrangements with Mrs. Sterling, asking for her input."

Vivian gave me a sharp look, chose not to expose my bluff on the spot, picked up her leather bag, and walked out.

Julian looked suspicious, but let the matter drop.

On the day of the wedding, Julian showed up on time. Dressed in a sharp suit, he stood by a marble pillar in the grand ballroom with a flute of champagne, watching me direct the crew.

I was in an all-black suit, headset on, checking off every item personally—from the imported floral blooms at the entrance to the exact cues for the bride's walk.

Whenever I glanced toward the corner, Julian would raise his glass toward me with a quiet smile.

Halfway through the ceremony, right as the newlyweds raised their glasses for the toast, Julian’s phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

He answered, murmured a few words, and his face instantly turned pale.

He strode over to my side in a rush. "Vivian had an emergency. I have to go deal with it. I’ll be right back."

Before I could say a word, he turned on his heel and left.

I was left standing in the center of the ballroom, walkie-talkie clutched in my hand, carrying the entire high-stakes event on my own shoulders.

When a glass shattered at the head table, I signaled the staff to clear it and replace it within seconds.

When the chandelier lights flickered during the bouquet toss, I quietly dispatched the backup electrician to inspect the circuits.

When the audio desk queued the wrong background track during the cake-cutting, I flashed a hand signal, and the engineer corrected the melody seamlessly.

A professional, radiant smile remained fixed on my lips. Nobody in that room could tell that my palms were soaked in cold sweat.

It wasn't until the guests had cleared out and the crew began dismantling the iron trusses that a courier handed me a package.

Inside was a diamond necklace, accompanied by a handwritten note from Julian: I'm so sorry about today. Bought you a little something to make it up to you.

Holding that note in the cavernous, empty ballroom, I thought of my late mother again.

Years ago, that married man used to do the exact same thing to her. Every time he broke a promise, he sent cash or an expensive silk scarf.

And my mother would clutch those worthless gifts, comforting herself into believing he truly loved her.

She waited until her dying breath, only to receive a family portrait of that man surrounded by his real wife and legitimate children.

I shoved the necklace back into its velvet box and tossed it into the very bottom of my tool chest.

I saw the truth with crystal clarity: in Julian’s eyes, I was just someone who could be bought off and pacified with jewelry and wire transfers.

After the wedding, Julian must have realized he crossed a line. Deliveries of flowers and gourmet meals flooded my studio.

Two days later, he texted saying he would drive me to inspect a potential new venue.

When the car pulled up downstairs, I opened the passenger door and slid in. One glance was all it took.

It was Christian behind the wheel again.

The way Christian held the steering wheel and his habit of checking the rearview mirror were subtly different from Julian’s.

I didn't call him out. I simply kept my tone strictly professional. "Let's go."

Christian blinked, startled, then quietly shifted the car into drive.

Throughout the entire site visit, I didn't look at Christian once. Armed with a laser distance meter, I spent the afternoon discussing ceiling heights and load-bearing specs with the venue manager.

Christian stood awkwardly to the side, looking like a hired mannequin.

Once I finished logging the data, I turned to him with a polite nod. "Thanks for the ride. You can head back now."

Christian seemed to want to say something, but swallowed his words. He got into the car and drove away.

Watching the taillights vanish around the corner, my heart felt completely, blissfully dead.