Chapter 307

Serena's POV

I barely glanced at the flowers, my eyes returning to his face with clear disinterest.

"You don't like them?" he asked, disappointment evident in his voice.

"What I don't like is you," I replied bluntly. "And you know that."

Pain flashed across his features. "Serena, must you always break my heart like this?"

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Atticus's pursuit of me had been one of the most confusing developments of the past year. In my memory, he had always preferred men. Yet here he was, pursuing me at every opportunity.

I'd initially suspected his motives were purely political-a gay man seeking a wife to appear "normal" for his conservative constituents. When I confronted him and firmly stated I wouldn't agree to a loveless, sexless marriage arrangement, he'd insisted his feelings for me were genuine. He claimed to be bisexual, attributing his previous exclusive interest in men to some vague "incident" in his past.

That explanation had only made me more suspicious of his intentions. The whole situation felt wrong, like a poorly written play where the actors were reciting lines that didn't match their characters.

"If you're worried about me breaking your heart," I said coolly, "then stop putting your heart in my path." I stepped around him, turning to a nearby staff member. "Excuse me, could you please take me to Mr. Wright?"

The young woman nodded immediately. "This way, Ms. Sinclair."

Atticus moved to follow, but I stopped him with a sharp glance. "Don't follow me. Marlon doesn't like dealing with outsiders."

He froze, looking down at the rejected roses in his hand.

The assistant led me through the labyrinth of the venue to Marlon's private room. He was surrounded by his team, giving rapid-fire instructions while scrolling through his tablet.

"Serena!" he exclaimed when he spotted me, setting the device down. "Perfect timing. I've got exactly three minutes for you."

I smiled. Marlon Wright was one of the few people in this industry whose directness matched my own. "I won't waste them, then. I just wanted to confirm our dinner plans."

"Eight o'clock, my place. I'm cooking." He winked. "Now tell me what you really came for."

"That was genuinely it," I laughed. "I know how busy you are today."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Eight sharp. Don't be late, and bring that wine I like."

I departed with a promise to be punctual, feeling lighter after the brief interaction with someone who didn't demand emotional labor from me.

As I exited his room, I nearly collided with Drew Yeager, with that permanent hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Let me guess, searching for Marlon?" he asked.

"Already found him," I replied. "What brings you backstage? Looking for him too?"

"No," he said, glancing toward one of the other rooms. "I'm here with Maeve."

"Maeve Harrington?" I clarified, though I already knew the answer.

He nodded, a subtle smile playing at his lips.

I had followed Maeve's career since she entered the entertainment industry. Her rapid rise wasn't surprising-not with the Harrington name backing her-but she did possess genuine talent that set her apart from other privileged newcomers.

I watched as Maeve finished adjusting her dress, her fingers deftly smoothing down invisible wrinkles before turning to me with a bright smile. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting her delicate features in a way that would surely captivate the audience during the upcoming fashion show.

"Serena! It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, approaching me with open arms. "I've missed you!"

Her enthusiasm washed over me like a wave I wasn't ready to receive. I returned her smile with a practiced one of my own, maintaining the polite distance I'd established since Eleanor disappeared from our lives. Three years had passed since I'd last seen Eleanor-wondering where she'd gone and why she'd never reached out to me or Quinn after vanishing so suddenly.

"You look great, Maeve," I said, my voice carrying just enough warmth to be polite. "The show's going to be amazing."

Maeve's eyes lit up. "Mom was just saying the other day that you should bring Milo and Stella over for dinner soon. It's been too long since we've all gotten together."

I nodded noncommittally. "When I get back to Manhattan, if I have time." The excuse sounded hollow even to my own ears, but Maeve didn't seem to notice.

"Are kids with you today?" she asked, eyes scanning the room as if expecting to spot my children hiding somewhere among the racks of designer clothes.

"No, they have school," I replied. "I couldn't pull them out for this."

"Oh, right! Of course." Maeve laughed lightly, touching her forehead. "I completely forgot about that."

I seized the opportunity to end our awkward conversation. "I should head out and find my seat. Don't want to distract you before your big moment."

"Of course! I should finish getting ready anyway. The coordinator's been giving me the evil eye for chatting," she said with a conspiratorial wink.

Just as I turned to leave, Drew appeared at my side.

"I'll escort the lovely lady out," he announced with a dramatic bow that made Maeve giggle. "We'll be cheering for you from the front row, Maeve."

Once we were safely in the corridor, away from the backstage chaos, I let out a breath. "Any word from Eleanor?" I asked Drew, the question escaping before I could stop myself.

Drew paused mid-step, his usually carefree expression faltering for just a moment. He shook his head. "Nothing. Haven't heard from her since... you know." He hesitated before adding, "You could ask Jace, maybe? They were close."

"Jace is back in the country?" I hadn't expected that news.

"Yeah, he had that brain surgery three years ago, remember? It was successful, thank God. He spent about six months recovering abroad, but he's been back for a while now." Drew's voice softened. "He and I actually patched things up. Lucas brought us together, and... well, you lose one brother, you really do lose one, you know?"

I nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. "I'm glad you worked things out," I said sincerely. "And I was just curious about Eleanor. If she wanted to contact us, she wouldn't be hiding from us anymore."

The weight of those words settled between us as we entered the main exhibition hall. The space had been transformed into a runway venue, with rows of white chairs arranged on either side of a gleaming white pathway. Lights hung from above, currently dimmed in preparation for the show.

Drew squeezed my shoulder gently before we parted ways to find our assigned seats. Mine was dead center in the front row-courtesy of Marlon's obvious favoritism toward me. I couldn't help but smile at his transparent attempt to highlight my presence at the event.

Kennedy was already seated beside my place, having arrived with me earlier. What surprised me was finding Atticus Thorne on my other side, clutching an elaborate bouquet of white roses and peonies that looked absurdly out of place in his large hands.

I slid into my seat, purposely avoiding Atticus's eager gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him straighten up, the flowers rustling as he adjusted his grip.

"Please take these," he said, thrusting the bouquet toward me with an awkward movement that nearly knocked my program from my lap.

"No, thank you," I replied without looking at him, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Come on, Serena," he persisted, lowering his voice. "Do you know how ridiculous I look carrying flowers around? People are staring."

I finally turned to face him, my expression deliberately neutral. "Then throw them away."

"I can't do that," he protested, genuine distress crossing his features. "I wrapped them myself. It took me forever."

"Then I suggest you continue holding them," I replied coldly, turning my attention back to the still-empty runway.

Atticus leaned closer, his cologne-too strong and too woody-invading my personal space. "Serena, I just wanted to-"

"Would you like to switch seats?" Kennedy's calm voice cut through Atticus's plea like a knife through butter.

"Yes," I answered immediately, already shifting to stand.

Kennedy and I exchanged places efficiently, leaving Atticus staring at Kennedy's impassive profile with undisguised frustration. I settled into my new seat, relief washing over me as Kennedy served as a human barrier between Atticus and myself.

From my new vantage point, I could see Atticus's jaw working, his grip on the flowers tightening until the delicate paper wrapping crinkled audibly.

"Watch the show and be quiet," Kennedy told him, his voice low but carrying a steel edge that brooked no argument.

Atticus's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "What did I ever do to you?" he muttered, but Kennedy merely crossed his legs and focused straight ahead, effectively ending the conversation.

The lights dimmed around me, casting the audience into darkness as the runway illuminated with a brilliant white glow.

I shifted in my seat, smoothing down my navy blue dress. The fabric felt cool beneath my fingertips, grounding me to the present moment.

The first model emerged, her steps precise and confident as she glided down the runway. Marlon Wright's designs were breathtaking - architectural silhouettes with unexpected fluidity, exactly what the StarRiver Group needed for our upcoming campaign. I made mental notes, focusing intently on each piece, refusing to let my attention wander to who might be watching me from across the room.

Marlon Wright, as a world-renowned designer, has never disappointed with his creations. The models were all world-class.

Maeve Harrington blending in among them wasn't particularly outstanding. But as she was a top celebrity from NewYork, her appearance at such an event naturally attracted many media reporters.

The moment Maeve stepped out, there was a slight stir in the crowd.

At that moment, Jace appeared and took a seat next to Drew.