Chapter 6
Serena finally stopped pretending.
“You never would have let me matter.”
There.
Not Adrian.
Her.
I looked at her.
“You were marrying my son.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I would always be Adrian’s wife in your house.”
“What did you want?”
“A house where I wasn’t asking permission.”
Fair desire.
Wrong method.
“You could have built one.”
Her face hardened.
“Adrian belongs here.”
There.
Estate.
Name.
Center.
She did not want independence.
She wanted inheritance before death.
I almost understood it.
Almost.
Her own mother had spent thirty-two years hosting Cole dinners while Grant and their father received credit for every useful relationship built there.
Serena learned a woman could work an entire room and still be called decorative.
She swore that would never be her.
So when she entered Bellini, she overcorrected.
She wanted visible authority before anyone could minimize her.
Again.
Pain explains.
It does not authorize cruelty.
I touched my wet sleeve.
“You sprayed me with a hose.”
Her eyes dropped.
“You slapped me.”
Silence.
“You watched guests laugh.”
Her voice softened.
“I lost control.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You thought you had control.”
That was different.
She believed the room had already chosen her.
May you like
So she tested how far that permission extended.
Too far.
