Chapter 5

Serena’s POV

A few days later, the city hosted a massive industry expo at the convention center.

My studio had an independent booth. Julian attended as a venue partner, and Vivian showed up in designer heels to tour the exhibits.

Midway through the expo, thick black smoke suddenly poured out of the central ventilation ducts, and a piercing fire alarm shrieked across the hall.

The crowd panicked, surging toward the emergency exits. Someone knocked over a display stand, sending metal frames and floral arrangements crashing to the floor.

Caught in the stampede, my heel snapped in a carpet seam. My ankle twisted violently with a sickening pop, pinning me to the spot in agony.

Vivian was only a few yards away in the crowd, losing her footing and dropping her designer purse.

Julian happened to be standing in the aisle right between us.

Without a single second of hesitation, he lunged toward Vivian, swept her up into his arms, and sprinted toward the nearest fire exit.

His movements were practiced and protective—one arm cradling her back, the other supporting her legs.

From start to finish, his eyes never drifted toward me for even a fraction of an inch.

Black smoke billowed down from the ceiling. I covered my mouth and coughed violently, watching him carry his wife out the door.

Several agonizing minutes later, Julian’s assistant fought his way through the retreating crowd, panting as he helped me up.

"Miss Vance, Mr. Sterling is tied up at the moment. He specifically ordered me to come over and take care of you."

Limping heavily, I let the assistant support me out of the convention center to a stone planter outside.

Under the harsh daylight, Julian was kneeling halfway in front of Vivian, draping his own tailored suit jacket over her shoulders and gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Vivian leaned into his chest while Julian whispered soothing words, his hand softly rubbing his wife’s trembling back.

I slipped off my broken shoe. My ankle had already swollen to the size of a grapefruit. Through it all, not once did Julian come over to ask if I was hurt.

I pushed away the water bottle the assistant offered me. "I don't need your help. I can walk on my own."

It wasn't until late that night that Julian finally called to check on me.

His tone was sickeningly gentle. He asked if I had any bruises, then rushed to explain that Vivian was traumatized and their son was crying at home, claiming he simply couldn't get away.

Sitting beside his legal wife, he recited his well-rehearsed lies over the receiver.

I leaned back on the couch, the ice pack on my ankle melting into lukewarm water that soaked through the cloth wrap.

Listening to that tender voice, I could vividly picture Julian leaning against the hospital wall, convinced he was a master puppeteer pulling all the strings.

I didn't expose him. Instead, I gave him a lie of my own.

"I'm fine. The baby is doing great, too. I went in for an ultrasound this afternoon, and my hormone levels were completely normal."

The child that had been ripped away from me days ago became my weapon to mock his web of deceit.

Julian let out an audible sigh of relief over the phone.

He urged me to get some rest and promised he would visit in a couple of days.

The moment the call ended, I tossed the phone aside.

I decided it was time to force Julian into a corner and make him choose in broad daylight.

I took on the wedding planning for Julian's closest childhood friend.

I specifically requested that Julian serve as the master of ceremonies.

At the same time, I had Mia send Vivian an invitation to the Montgomery family anniversary gala under the guise of a florist sponsor—scheduled for the exact same hour.

On Friday afternoon, I slapped both invitations down in front of Julian.

"Your best friend's wedding and the Montgomery family banquet are at the exact same time tomorrow. You can only attend one. Choose."

Julian stared at the cards, his face shifting through multiple shades of pale.

He knew I was forcing his hand. After a suffocating silence, he gritted his teeth. "I'll go to my friend's wedding."

On Saturday, Julian sped down the highway to make it on time.

He burst through the ballroom doors covered in blood, his white dress shirt soaked in crimson.

I only learned later that he had been in a high-speed car crash on the freeway.

Seeing his battered, bloody state, my heart gave an involuntary, painful twitch.

Julian ignored the gasps of the guests and marched straight toward me.

He grabbed my wrist with a hand slick with fresh blood.

"Serena, I made it. I chose you."

"I don't even care about my life anymore. All I want is you."