Chapter 165

Serena's POV

The news about Ian's suicide in custody hit the headlines around noon. The news itself didn't shock me as much as my own reaction to it.

Ian Whitmore had chosen death over facing the consequences of his actions. The Whitmore Group's stock had plummeted to record lows after the allegations surfaced, and his father's public denouncement had been the final nail in their corporate coffin. Ian had always been more concerned with appearance than substance. The prospect of prison, public shame, Nina's betrayal and financial ruin must have been too much to him.

My phone buzzed, displaying Lucas's name. I stared at it, my finger hovering over the screen. We hadn't spoken since that night, though he had sent a brief message checking on me after Ian's death was announced.

"Serena." His voice carried its usual quiet authority.

I remained silent, watching the city lights.

"Milo and Stella..." He paused, and I could picture him in his office, probably standing by his own window. "They miss you. They've been crying, asking to see you."

The mention of the children cracked my carefully maintained composure. "I'll come over tonight."

"Thank you." Two simple words, but his relief was palpable.

I arrived at the Harrington residence just after eight. Walter opened the door, his familiar presence oddly comforting. The house felt different now - memories of previous visits ghost-like in their intensity.

"Serena!" Stella's voice rang out as she ran down the stairs, her brother close behind. She clutched a sketchbook to her chest, her eyes bright with excitement.

I knelt to catch them both, their small arms wrapping around my neck. The familiar scent of Stella's strawberry shampoo and Milo's clean, soapy smell brought an unexpected tightness to my throat.

We spent the next hour in their playroom. I helped Milo with his dinosaur puzzle while Stella showed me her recent artwork. Their chatter about school and friends filled the space, making it easy to pretend nothing had changed.

When bedtime came, they both insisted I read their story. I sat between their beds, reading about a brave princess who saved her kingdom. Stella fell asleep first, her hand still clutching my sleeve. Milo lasted until the final page, his eyes drooping as I tucked the blanket around him.

Lucas was waiting in the living room when I came downstairs. The soft lighting cast shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Would you like them to stay at my place for a few days?" I asked, remaining standing. "I could drive them to and from school."

"Can you manage that with your schedule?" His tone was neutral, but I caught the slight edge. "They start school at nine, and you're usually in the office by eight-thirty."

"I can arrange it," I replied, though we both knew it wasn't practical.

"Okay, I'll think about it," he said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Walter prepared honey lemon tea for you." He rose and walked to the kitchen, returning with a steaming cup. "It would be a shame to waste it."

I wanted to refuse, but the slight roughness in my throat from hours of reading betrayed me. The warm liquid soothed my voice, carrying the perfect balance of sweet and tart.

When I stood to leave, Lucas was already by the door. "I'll follow you home."

"I drove here," I replied curtly, a reflexive coldness creeping into my voice. The familiar tension returned.

"I know." His tone brooked no argument, carrying that quiet authority.

I pressed my lips together, suppressing the urge to challenge him. There was something infuriating about his protectiveness, yet beneath my irritation stirred an emotion I refused to acknowledge. My fingers unconsciously tightened around my car keys.

The drive home was a study in restraint. My white Audi led the way through night traffic, with his Maybach maintaining a constant distance behind. I could see his headlights in my rearview mirror. Every time I changed lanes or turned a corner, that gleam of light followed.

At my building, I stepped out of the car and walked straight to the elevator, not looking back. But I knew he was watching, waiting until the doors closed behind me. In the elevator's solitude, I finally allowed myself to exhale.

Over the past few days, dinner at the Harrington residence had become a comforting routine. Walter's culinary skills never failed to impress, and the children's eager faces when I arrived made any exhaustion from work fade away. Tonight was no different - the aroma of freshly baked garlic bread filled the dining room as I helped Stella into her chair.

"Mom, is this Walter's special pasta?" Milo asked, eyeing the steaming plate before him.

"Yes, he made it especially for you two tonight." I smiled, watching him twirl the pasta with practiced precision.

Stella took a small, careful bite. "It's delicious," she whispered, her eyes bright with appreciation.

"Mom?" Milo looked up from his plate, his expression suddenly serious. "This Friday, we're having a a sports day at school." His voice rose with excitement. "Could you come?"

Before I could respond, Stella added quietly, "We both signed up for the relay race." Her fingers fidgeted with her napkin, betraying her anticipation despite her controlled tone.

"Of course I'll come." The words left my mouth without hesitation. The way Stella's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Really?" Milo bounced in his seat. "Promise?"

"Promise." I reached out to ruffle his hair. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Dinner continued with animated discussions about their upcoming races. Stella shared details about her team's practice sessions, while Milo enthusiastically demonstrated his running technique right there at the table.

After helping them with homework and tucking them in for the night, I headed toward the living room to collect my things. The house had become familiar territory.

As I approached the living room, voices drifted out - one distinctly Lucas's, the other female and elegant.

"The children seem happier lately," Rachel Thorne was saying, her voice carrying that perfect mix of warmth and sophistication. I froze just outside the doorway.

"They are," Lucas replied, his tone neutral.

I stepped into view, and Rachel's eyes met mine. She sat gracefully on the sofa, holding Lucas's coffee cup - the one I'd seen him use countless times.

"Serena, what a coincidence." Rachel's smile was perfectly pleasant. She took another sip from his cup, the gesture somehow both casual and intimate.

My throat tightened. She knew. She had to know about my daily visits, even about my relationship with the children. Yet here she sat, completely at ease, as if my presence was inconsequential.

Was she genuinely indifferent to Lucas because she didn't care for him, despite their engagement? Or was she so confident in her position that she viewed me as no threat at all? Perhaps this was all an elaborate performance, carefully crafted for Lucas.

Whatever her reasons, the reality remained unchanged - my presence here was inappropriate while Lucas and Rachel's engagement stood.

"You must be tired," Rachel continued, her tone sympathetic. "Coming here every evening after work."

"It's fine." My voice sounded distant to my own ears. "I should go."

I saw Lucas step forward. "Let me walk you out."

"No need, it's still early," I refused immediately.

"I didn't get to say goodbye to Milo and Stella," I said. "Could you explain to them that I left?"

I slipped on my shoes and headed for the door. Despite my clear dismissal, I could hear Lucas's footsteps behind me.

As I reached the elevator, I turned and deliberately positioned myself between him and the entrance. Lucas met my gaze steadily.

"Lucas, in what capacity are you escorting me?" I challenged. "Your fiancée is waiting upstairs, yet you're walking another woman out. Have you considered how she might feel? As a man, you really shouldn't stoop to this level of behavior!"

"About Rachel and me-"

"That's your business," I cut him off sharply. "I don't need to know, nor am I interested in knowing. I won't be coming over in the evenings anymore."

Lucas remained silent, his expression darkened.

I stepped into the elevator without another word and pressed the button, watching the doors close between us. There was no point in having any emotional reaction to Lucas Harrington anymore.

The past was simply that - the past.