Serena’s POV

When we got back to the estate, Nico didn’t even glance at me.

He walked Natalie straight inside like she was already registered in the house ledger—his hand steady on her back, his voice low as he called for the chef. Something about broth, something about cravings, something about her being “weak.”

Like the Vescari estate had suddenly become a clinic for her comfort.

I stood near the entrance with my suitcase still in hand, watching it all like I was a guest who had overstayed in a place I never owned.

As Nico came back down the stairs, he paused for half a second when he saw me heading toward the guest wing.

Then he spoke to the staff instead of me.

“Add two more dishes,” he said. “Serena’s favorites. Set a third place.”

I stopped walking.

Slowly.

For a second, I almost laughed.

So that was it. That was his version of fixing things.

Not an apology. Not a conversation. Just… food.

Like I was a capo who could be paid off with a seat at the table.

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

---

The guest room was cold when I stepped in.

Not the air—the estate was always perfectly controlled—but the feeling.

Empty.

Like the walls had already forgotten me.

I shut the door, dropped my suitcase, and knelt to unzip it.

I already knew what I was going to do next. Leave quietly. No scene. No warning.

But the moment I opened it—

My hands stopped.

Everything inside was destroyed.

My clothes were cut cleanly. Not ripped. Not torn.

Cut.

Deliberate. Precise. Like someone had used a blade instead of anger.

A message from someone who knew how to hurt without leaving noise.

My throat tightened.

Then I saw it.

My passport. My IDs. My documents.

Untouched.

Left carefully in the lining like a signature.

A warning.

Not a mistake.

Natalie.

Of course.

I exhaled slowly. No shock anymore. Just fatigue settling deeper into my bones.

I started packing what was left. Fast. Mechanical. No hesitation.

That was when the door opened.

No knock.

No permission.

I didn’t turn around.

“Natalie,” I said flatly.

She stepped in like she owned the corridor outside too. One hand held a small black vial—medical-grade, sealed. Syndicate clinic type.

Her eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

Then she smiled.

“Still here,” she said.

I stood.

She tilted her head. “After everything, you’re still trying to stay close to him. That’s kind of pathetic, Serena.”

I didn’t respond.

She walked around the room slowly, like she was inspecting seized property after a raid.

“Oh,” she said casually. “Your grandmother passed, right?”

My fingers went cold.

She watched my face carefully when she said it. Like she wanted confirmation of impact.

“You were begging him to go,” she continued. “Kneeling, crying. Very dramatic.”

My jaw tightened.

Natalie lifted her phone.

Tapped once.

Turned the screen toward me.

Nico.

Kissing her.

Captured in high resolution under the Syndicate’s own private security feed.

“This was the same day,” she said lightly.

My breathing caught.

I remembered that day.

I remembered the hospital calls. The urgency. The way I couldn’t even think straight.

And I remembered Nico’s voice.

I’m busy.

Busy wasn’t a meeting.

Busy was her.

Something in me went very still.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… irreversible.

Natalie leaned back against the desk, watching me like she was enjoying the quiet collapse.

“You really weren’t important,” she said softly.

Silence stretched.

Then I laughed.

Once.

Low.

Sharp.

“You think this is power?” I said.

Her smile tightened slightly.

I stepped closer.

“You didn’t take anything from me,” I continued, voice steadying with every word. “You just exposed him.”

Natalie’s eyes flickered.

I tilted my head.

“You’re not his queen,” I said. “You’re just the distraction he hasn’t gotten bored of yet.”

That landed.

Her smile cracked at the edges.

“And one day,” I added quietly, “he’s going to realize you were never worth the blood he’s wasting on you.”

For the first time—

Natalie didn’t look amused.

Serena's POV

She shrugged, smug. “Still more than you.”

That was it.

I slapped the phone out of her hand.

It hit the marble floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the guest wing like a gunshot in a quiet room.

Natalie barely flinched before I was on her.

My hand closed around her throat.

Not enough to kill.

Enough to remind her what world she was standing in.

We slammed into the bedside table. A glass vial rolled off, hit the floor—

Then shattered.

The smell hit me first.

Gasoline.

My stomach dropped.

“Natalie—what the hell did you do?”

She smiled.

That same calm, sick little smile.

Then she flicked a lighter.

One spark.

That was all it took.

Fire didn’t grow.

It answered.

It burst across the carpet like it had been waiting under the surface the entire time, climbing the curtains, eating the walls, turning the room into a burning cage.

“Stop—!” I coughed, stumbling back as smoke filled my lungs.

Natalie grabbed me, shoving hard. We both hit the floor, scrambling as the fire split us apart like a blade.

Heat bit into my skin instantly.

The air turned sharp. Poisoned.

Somewhere in it, she screamed.

And then I fell.

---

“Serena!”

The voice cut through the chaos.

Nico.

At the doorway.

Black suit, smoke already curling around him, security men behind him trying to hold him back.

“Don’t go in, Don—!”

“Get off me!”

My chest tightened.

For one stupid second, I thought—

He came for me.

I pushed myself up, choking on smoke. “Nico!”

My voice cracked.

“I’m here!”

Natalie’s voice followed immediately behind me, soft, broken, perfectly timed.

“Nico… please…”

And everything in him shifted.

I saw it.

The switch.

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t look at me.

Didn’t even search the room.

He ran straight past me.

To her.

---

After that, everything blurred.

Smoke. Heat. Screams. The estate burning like a funeral pyre for something that was already dead long before the fire reached it.

I don’t remember deciding to move.

I just did.

Survival isn’t a choice in this world.

It’s instinct.

Pain hit first—then something deeper.

Not transformation.

Not magic.

Just the body refusing to die when it wasn’t finished yet.

My senses sharpened through the smoke. Every exit. Every draft. Every crack in the structure.

I grabbed my bag with shaking hands and ran.

Glass exploded as I threw myself through the window.

It tore into my side.

I didn’t stop.

I hit the ground hard, rolled once, coughed until my lungs burned raw.

Behind me, the estate roared.

The Don’s house.

The Vescari Syndicate’s pride.

Now just fire and collapsing lies.

I didn’t look back.

I ran through the service path. Through darkness. Through pain that didn’t matter anymore.

Until I found the gate.

Unlocked.

Left open like someone had already decided I didn’t need to be caught.

And I kept going.

Even when my legs gave out.

Even when my breath turned shallow.

I didn’t stop until the estate was gone.

---

The terminal was too quiet.

Like the world didn’t know I was supposed to be dead.

I sat in a corner seat, wrapped in a borrowed coat, blood dried at my side, hands still shaking slightly from adrenaline that hadn’t fully left.

My phone buzzed.

Nico.

Don’t play games, Serena. I don’t have time for hide-and-seek.

I stared at it.

No tears.

No rage.

No heartbreak left to spend.

Just emptiness where everything used to be.

Then I powered the phone off.

And for the first time in nine years—

Nico Vescari didn’t have a signal to reach me.

Nico’s POV

[Tomorrow at 10 AM, Natalie’s prenatal exam. You’ll accompany her. And get your lungs checked while you’re at it.]

No reply.

Not even a read receipt.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it.

Serena had always been like that when she was upset—quiet, distant, then she’d come back around like nothing ever happened.

But this silence… felt wrong.

Not emotional.

Final.

---

The next morning, Vescari Medical Clinic was already cleared by Syndicate order.

No civilians. No press. Just trusted doctors and armed men in plain suits posted at every corridor.

Natalie clung to my arm the moment we stepped out of the car.

“Nico… is the baby okay?”

“Stable,” I said. “No damage from the fire.”

She exhaled like she’d survived a war.

I should’ve felt the same.

Instead, my mind kept slipping.

Serena’s face.

That last moment in the smoke.

Not fear.

Not pleading.

Just… that look.

Like she had already accepted something I hadn’t.

---

After lunch, I dropped Natalie back at the estate and headed straight to the council hall.

Steel doors. Fingerprint locks. Armed guards at every checkpoint.

The kind of place where decisions got made that never made it to the news.

My phone stayed silent the whole drive.

Too silent.

My beta met me at the entrance.

“Sir. Chairman Morgan’s returned. Summit starts tonight.”

I nodded, but my focus wasn’t there.

“Serena still unaccounted for,” I said.

My beta hesitated. “No clinic record. No gate exit. No surveillance hit.”

I stopped walking.

“No trace at all?”

“None, Don.”

That shouldn’t have been possible.

In my world, people didn’t disappear.

Not unless someone made them.

I exhaled slowly. “Check every Syndicate checkpoint. Every port. Every private strip.”

“Yes, Don.”

I started walking again.

Then, without thinking, I added, “Send gifts to Norththorn Holdings.”

My assistant blinked. “For Mrs. Natalie?”

A pause.

Something about the question felt wrong.

“…Send it to the Sterling estate,” I corrected.

Because that’s where Serena always returned to when she was angry.

At least, she used to.

---

A week passed.

Business didn’t stop.

The Syndicate never did.

Border disputes. Weapons shipments. Council negotiations. Three families trying to test loyalty lines.

Normal chaos.

Except nothing felt normal.

It was just after midnight when I came back from a patrol briefing.

The estate was dark.

Except for one light in the living room.

A silhouette on the sofa.

Silk dress. Bare shoulders. Familiar posture.

For a second—

Relief.

“Serena,” I said, almost under my breath. “I told you… I always come back. You don’t need to—”

I stopped.

It wasn’t her.

Natalie.

She looked up slowly, disappointment flashing across her face before she masked it.

“Nico…”

My jaw tightened.

“She still hasn’t come back,” she said softly. “Not even once.”

I loosened my tie. “She’s being dramatic.”

But my voice didn’t land the way it used to.

Natalie’s eyes glistened. “I apologized. I even tried reaching her. Maybe she just hates me too much now.”

I sat beside her out of habit more than thought.

“Don’t stress,” I said, brushing her hair back. “It’s not good for the baby.”

She leaned into me like it was natural.

“Then… what if she never comes back?” she asked.

A pause.

I didn’t answer right away.

Instead, I said, “This is your home now.”

A beat.

“…Whether she accepts it or not.”

The words should’ve felt like closure.

They didn’t.

---

Later that night, I stood on the terrace.

The city below was lit like a map of everything I controlled.

Everything except one missing point.

I lit a cigarette.

First one in years.

Didn’t help.

Didn’t even take the edge off.

My phone was already in my hand before I realized it.

Serena.

Still saved.

Still there.

Still not erased.

My thumb hovered over the call button.

Didn’t press it.

Instead, I typed:

Tomorrow is Chairman Morgan’s birthday. Stay quiet. Don’t provoke Natalie.

I stared at it.

For too long.

Then sent it.

The wind cut harder across the terrace.

And for the first time in years…

Nico Vescari felt something he couldn’t order, negotiate, or eliminate.

Uncertainty.