Chapter 6
Winston's POV
Damian walked in while I was signing a merger agreement.
"Sir, Serena has left the hotel." He stood before my desk, delivering his report. "She's gone back to the Kensington estate."
My pen paused at the signature line.
She went back.
Last night she'd cried in front of me, fallen apart in front of me, told me in that hoarse, nearly shattered voice that Leo had betrayed her. She said she wanted a divorce, said she was leaving—said it all with such conviction, as though she'd already made up her mind to walk out of that cage.
Then dawn came, and she went back anyway.
Damian's phone rang at that moment. He answered, listened for about twenty seconds, then hung up and looked at me. "Sir, something's happened at the Kensingtons'."
I raised my eyes to meet his.
"Noah Kensington. Confirmed dead this morning—anaphylactic shock." Damian kept his voice low. "The information just came from the hospital. Tiffany administered a prescription medication containing a fatal allergen. Claims she didn't know."
I leaned back into my chair, fingers resting on the armrest, and said nothing.
The Kensington firstborn was dead. In theory, this news should have prompted me to immediately assess the shift in the family's power structure, evaluate the joint ventures between our two families that had been tied to Noah, and calculate what new variables would emerge once Leo was left to shoulder the entire Kensington empire alone.
But that wasn't the first thing that crossed my mind.
What I thought of first was what Serena had said last night—that she wanted a divorce.
And now Leo's brother was dead.
A period of mourning. Family upheaval. All eyes turned inward on the Kensingtons.
Filing for divorce at a time like this would be like putting herself over an open flame.
This would have to wait.
Damian's phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen. "Sir, Ms. Willow Bryan is downstairs. She'd like to see you. No appointment."
"Send her up."
Three minutes later, Willow walked in.
She sat in the chair across from me, set her bag beside her legs, and opened without preamble. "Two things. First, returning something. Then, the real matter."
She pulled a check from her bag, placed it on the desk, and pushed it toward me with two fingers.
I recognized it.
After Serena had fallen asleep last night, I'd contacted Willow to come look after her. Before leaving, I'd tucked that five-hundred-thousand-dollar check beneath the nightstand lamp.
Willow looked me in the eye. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word landed with weight. "Mr. Winston, I'm grateful you helped her. But Serena is my best friend—she's the best friend I'll ever have in this life. Taking care of her..." She paused for a beat. "That's not a transaction. And it can't be one."
I didn't speak.
Willow withdrew her hand, shifting her tone down a gear into something more clipped and efficient. "Second matter. Serena is going to divorce Leo."
Her gaze fell squarely on my face, without a trace of probing. "I want you to stay out of it. Don't send people to interfere."
The office was silent for two seconds.
I tapped a finger once against the desk. "You think I'd intervene?"
"Of course." Willow's gaze didn't waver. "Your family has dealings with the Kensingtons. This marriage is useful to both sides... Leo cheated on her with Tiffany. He hurt Serena. I don't want you hurting her alongside everyone else."
I tapped my finger once against the armrest, watching Willow. Said nothing.
She waited a few seconds. Once she was satisfied I wasn't going to respond, she stood and picked up her bag.
"I've said what I came to say."
She turned toward the door, and when her hand was already on the handle, she paused—but didn't look back.
"If you actually care about her, don't use money to show it next time." Her voice carried from her turned back. "The one thing she's never lacked in her life is being treated like a bargaining chip."
The office fell quiet again.
Damian was still standing by the door. He'd heard every word Willow said, and before even confirming anything with a glance from me, he'd already filtered out the emotional layer and locked onto the most critical piece of information.
"Sir," he stepped closer, his tone steady as always, though his brow drew together slightly, "if Serena truly intends to divorce Leo, the ramifications will be significant."
"This marriage underpins the alliance between both families. Once the divorce goes public, outsiders will reassess the Kensingtons' standing. Now with Noah just dead and Leo's affair with Noah's wife—if both of these come out back-to-back, the Kensingtons won't just be losing face. Their entire family's credibility collapses."
"Our casino corridor deal with them, the Chicago joint defense, the Ocean Drive project—all of it will need to be renegotiated."
Damian's analysis was precise.
Some of those partnerships had been running for nearly a decade; others were newly established arrangements that had only just gotten off the ground. If the Kensingtons fell into chaos, the domino effect would drag out a chain of complications requiring complete redeployment.
"Sir, should we make some arrangements? At least ensure this doesn't blow up publicly—keep the whole process contained."
I was silent for five or six seconds. If Serena and Leo's divorce was handled poorly, it could trigger a cascade between the families. And as the head of the Harlingtons, it was my responsibility to minimize the fallout.
"Make the arrangements."
Damian gave a slight bow and turned toward the door. Just as his hand was already on the handle, I stopped him.
"Wait."
Damian paused and turned back to look at me.
I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Miami's evening skyline was burning orange in the sunset. Out on the distant water, a few yachts had just switched on their lights—scattered points of brightness drifting in the dusk.
The image from last night surfaced in my mind.
Serena tilting her face up to look at me, her eyes rimmed red, her voice trembling as though it might fly apart at any moment. She'd asked me if I found her disgusting—because she'd been married, because that made her tainted.
Leo had never touched her. She was clean. She kept repeating it, over and over, as though demanding an answer from me—or perhaps trying to convince herself.
She thought the whole world found her disgusting.
I looked at Damian. "Forget the arrangements."
"The Kensingtons' reputation isn't my concern."
My tone was light, carrying a rare indifference—as though I were discussing something that had nothing to do with me at all.
"Let her raise hell."
Damian watched me for a moment but didn't ask questions. He'd been with me long enough to know that once I'd made a decision, I didn't need to explain it.
I paused for a beat, and the corner of my mouth curved upward without my noticing—barely there, so faint that even I hadn't been aware of it.
"As long as she's happy."
The words came out half a tone lower, like a murmur to myself—or perhaps an addendum meant for Damian.
Something shifted in Damian's eyes, but he said nothing.
"One more thing." I pulled my gaze back from the window and looked at him, my voice returning to its usual cadence. "Noah's death. Look into it."
"What angle?"
"Every angle," I said. "The source of that prescription medication. Tiffany's movements over the past three months. Any changes to Noah's insurance policies before his death. Find out everything. Send me a full report."
Damian nodded. "Understood."
After Damian left, the office settled back into silence—nothing but the faint hum from the air conditioning vent.
I glanced at the check on my desk, the one that had been returned to me. Then I reached out, folded it once, and fed it into the shredder.
Willow was right.
The one thing Serena had never lacked in her life was being treated like a bargaining chip.
