Chapter 11
Serena's POV
Leo's gaze shifted from the broken teddy bear in Eric's hands to me. His expression darkened. "Serena, you're picking fights with a four-year-old?"
I let out a cold laugh. "Maybe you should ask him what he did first. He destroyed my—"
"Enough, Serena."
Leo cut me off without hesitation, walked over, and scooped Eric up into his arms. The boy buried his face into the crook of Leo's neck, his wailing muffled against the fabric of his suit.
Leo looked at me with unmistakable warning in his eyes. "Whatever happened, he's a child."
Then he carried Eric out of the room.
Tiffany followed close behind. As she passed me, her steps faltered for just a moment. She turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on the wound at my temple—still held together with stitches. Her lips moved, and she spoke in a voice only the two of us could hear.
"Serena, I didn't expect you to be out of the hospital so soon." The corner of her mouth curved upward ever so slightly. "But don't think for a second that I'll let you gain a foothold in the Kensington family. We'll see how this plays out."
Then she walked out of the study, her footsteps light and carefree, as if nothing had happened.
I stood there, watching her retreating figure, and something suddenly clicked into place.
When she pushed me down those stairs, it wasn't just about venting her anger.
She wanted me injured badly enough that I couldn't attend Noah's funeral.
If I hadn't shown up at the funeral, what would outsiders think? Leo's wife, absent from Noah's funeral—the gossip would have been vicious and endless.
But she miscalculated.
I had no interest in gaining a foothold in the Kensington family, because I was going to divorce Leo no matter what.
After Leo calmed Eric down, he changed clothes and prepared to leave. Before heading out, he made a point of coming to find me. "I just got Eric settled. Don't provoke him again."
"And don't bring up divorce anymore. Don't delude yourself into thinking you can use Tiffany's unborn child as leverage against me. You should know by now—it won't work."
He didn't spare me another glance before turning and walking away.
Less than half an hour after Leo left, I was in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of water. The sound of the faucet drowned out whatever was happening in the living room—until a piercing shriek cut through every layer of background noise.
I set down the glass and walked out.
Eric was sitting on the living room floor, clutching his left arm, crying until his face was scarlet. Snot and tears smeared across his cheeks. On his left forearm was a distinct red mark, as if someone had grabbed him with considerable force.
Tiffany crouched in front of him, her expression one of horror, her voice trembling. "Eric! What happened, sweetheart?"
Eric sobbed, raised his hand, and pointed directly at me.
"Her! She hit me! She grabbed my arm!"
I frowned.
Instinctively, I scanned the living room. Gloria was nowhere to be seen. The other servants had vanished as well. The entire first floor held only Tiffany and Eric.
Which meant there was no one who could confirm I'd been in the kitchen the whole time.
Tiffany looked up at me, her eyes rimmed red. "Serena... how could you lay your hands on a child..."
The red mark on Eric's arm. Tiffany's anguished expression. The child's tears and accusations. Anyone walking in on this scene would conclude that I had abused a four-year-old.
But Leo was already gone. Who was this performance for?
Right on cue, there was movement at the front door.
The corner of Tiffany's mouth twitched upward—the slightest arc, barely perceptible. But I saw it.
I looked up and saw Leo walking in from the foyer. He had come back.
Tiffany's expression instantly crumbled into something even more pitiful. Tears poured down her face with renewed force. She clutched Eric against her, her entire body curled on the floor, shoulders trembling.
Leo's face was grim. He strode to Eric's side, crouched down, and examined the red welt on his arm with careful fingers.
His fingertips pressed gently beside the mark. Eric let out a whimper and buried his face into Tiffany's chest.
Leo raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were full of rage.
"Serena!"
He stood, his voice held low, but the fury in it was barely contained. "How could you do this? Eric is four years old. Even if he did something wrong, you should never treat him like this!"
"I didn't—"
"Enough!"
He wouldn't let me finish. "Tiffany always tells me that you're good to her and Eric, that I shouldn't worry. But the reality? This is how you treat Eric!"
His voice rose a notch. "If I hadn't forgotten a file at home and come back for it specifically, I don't know how long this would have gone on behind my back!"
Tiffany's tears flowed as if they cost her nothing. She lifted her face toward Leo, her voice soft and fractured. "Leo, I'm sorry... I wasn't trying to hide it from you. I just didn't want to burden you with these trivial things... Being by your side, being allowed to stay with you—that's already more happiness than I deserve..."
"Don't say that, Tiffany. You've done nothing wrong."
Leo's voice softened instantly. He placed a hand on Tiffany's shoulder, then raised his head and fixed me with a hard, unrelenting stare.
"Serena, it seems nothing less than punishment will get through to you."
He turned toward the doorway and raised his voice. "Someone, come here."
His assistant Jacob entered from outside and stood at attention, awaiting instructions.
Leo looked at me, his gaze ice-cold. "Take my wife to the basement. Let her reflect on what she's done. Without my explicit order, no one is to let her out."
My body felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me.
The basement.
"Leo, you can't do this." I heard my own voice shaking. "You know I'm terrified of the dark—"
"Exactly. You're terrified of the dark." Leo looked at me, his expression utterly immovable. "But if I don't do this, how will you ever remember this lesson?"
I stared at the man before me.
His features were still the ones I knew so well, but the words coming from his mouth made him feel like a complete stranger.
Why did everyone have to do this?
Offer me a sliver of light, then rip it all away in a single moment.
Lydia did it. Winston did it. And now Leo was doing it too.
"Leo." I straightened my spine, clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. The pain grounded me, and my voice steadied. "I've already told you—I want a divorce. I want this marriage to end. There is no chance I'm going to let you lock me in that basement without a fight."
"Serena, this isn't up to you."
Leo gave Jacob a look, and Jacob immediately started toward me.
I retreated half a step. My back hit the wall.
"Leo!" I locked eyes with him. "If you dare put me in there, you'd better never let me out. Because if you do, I will make every single one of you regret it."
CRACK—
A blunt, crushing impact exploded from my temple.
Pain flooded in all at once, overwhelming and absolute. My vision erupted in crimson. Something warm slid down along my brow bone, seeped into my eye, and the world dissolved into a blurry red.
I turned my head and saw Tiffany holding the vase from the coffee table, its corner stained dark with blood.
Her eyes were full of malice, but her voice trembled with carefully manufactured panic.
"You... you can't talk to Leo like that... how dare you speak to him that way..."
My knees buckled.
The floor slammed into my shoulder and the side of my face. Cold seeped up through half my body. My vision began to scatter. The ceiling light became a shapeless blur of white.
Through the haze, I saw Leo move.
He rushed forward.
But the person he caught in his arms was Tiffany.
His arm wrapped around Tiffany's shoulders. He bent his head to check whether her hand had been cut by the shattered vase, murmuring something—words that drifted further and further away from me.
I lay on the floor. Blood ran from my temple into my ear, and a deafening roar filled my eardrums, compressing every sound into something distant and submerged, like echoes heard from the bottom of the ocean.
Then, within that roar, I heard another sound.
Someone was shouting. The voice was deep and cold, like a blade slicing through the chaos.
Winston...?
Had he come?
If he was here, then maybe I wouldn't be thrown into that basement after all.
My consciousness sank after that thought, and everything went dark.
