Chapter 141

Serena's POV

"Do you know his position at Harrington International?" Beatrice's voice rose sharply through the phone. "Senior executive, million-dollar salary! Now he's suddenly fired?"

I gripped the balcony railing, the cool metal grounding me as lights twinkled below. "If he's such a high-level executive," I replied evenly, "how could I possibly have the power to get him fired?"

"Don't play innocent with me!" She scoffed. "James has a good connection with the Sinclairs for years. He wouldn't have lost his position without your interference."

"Interesting." I kept my voice deliberately calm. "So you believe a senior executive at Harrington International lost his job because of me, rather than his own actions?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end. When Beatrice spoke again, her tone had shifted, honey replacing vinegar. "Serena, dear... I spoke harshly because I was worried. You understand, don't you? James has a family to support."

I closed my eyes, remembering countless similar conversations over the years. The pattern was always the same - criticism, then guilt, then manipulation. "His family situation is unfortunate, but it has nothing to do with me."

"How can you be so cold?" Her voice softened further, dripping with false concern. "You wouldn't want your grandmother to lose face in front of the whole family, would you? After everything we've done for you..."

"Everything you've done for me?" I laughed, the sound brittle in the night air. "Let's talk about that, shall we? For someone who only remembers me when they need something, who beat and berated me as a child, you certainly ask for a lot of favors."

"How dare you!" Beatrice's facade cracked. "The Sinclairs raised such an ungrateful child! Your father gave you everything-"

"The Sinclairs didn't raise me at all," I cut in, my voice trembling slightly. "If not for my own abilities, I would have starved abroad long ago. Or have you forgotten how you shipped me off to boarding school the moment my mother died?"

The words hung in the air, years of unspoken truth finally finding voice. I could hear Beatrice's sharp intake of breath.

"You're just like your mother," she spat. "Always playing the victim, never considering family loyalty-"

"Family loyalty?" My laugh held no humor. "Is that what you call it? Using people until they're no longer useful, then discarding them? No wonder you're so concerned about James. You see yourself in him."

"You little brat-"

I ended the call, my hand shaking slightly. The cool night air did little to calm the burning in my chest. Before I could collect myself, my phone buzzed again. Lawrence Sinclair.

"Yes?" I answered, knowing what was coming.

"Is this how you treat your grandmother?" My father's voice thundered through the speaker. "After everything this family has done for you?"

"I won't accept her insults or your criticism." I kept my voice low, conscious of Milo sleeping inside. "If that's all - "

"James Chapman lost his position because of you!" He cut in. "Your grandmother just told me - "

"That was his own doing," I interrupted. "The board's decision had nothing to do with me."

"He has a good connection with the Sinclairs for years! You could have protected him."

I laughed softly, without humor. "The way you protected me, Father?"

A sharp intake of breath. "You jerk - "

"Bye, Lawrence" I ended the call and blocked both numbers before they could call again. I take a deep breath. The emotional waves still hit me, no matter how I try to steel myself.

The wounds from family-they cut the deepest. These deeply rooted shadows... I wonder how long it will take before I can truly make peace with everything. It's like that scar from when I was eighteen, still raw in its own way.

Inside, I could hear Milo and Stella's soft snores through the partially open door, the sound somehow both comforting and painful.

My phone buzzed with notifications - probably Nina or Lawrence, eager to add their own criticism to the mix. Instead of checking their messages, I found myself scrolling through my social media feed, a mindless activity to calm my nerves.

Then I saw it.

Rachel Thorne's latest post catches my eye: "Manhattan is beautiful. I love everything about this place."

Below is a photo taken from the top of a Ferris wheel. Most of the frame captures the night cityscape, except for one small detail in the bottom right corner-a man and woman's hands, tightly clasped together.