Chapter 9 The Price of Lies
Serena's POV
The air went dead.
My brain flatlined. For three full seconds I couldn't process the words, and then it all came rushing back — last night, the bar, that stupid fucking lie I'd told to save whatever scraps of dignity I had left. I'd said it to make myself feel less pathetic, and now it was here, standing between us like a third person.
Camille's eyes went wide. Just for a second — lips parting, no sound coming out — and then her expression shifted into something worse. Amusement. Recognition. Like a puzzle piece had just clicked into place.
She let out a soft laugh, the kind that wasn't really a laugh at all.
I wanted to explain. I opened my mouth and nothing came out, my throat closing up like someone had their hands around it. The wolf was losing its mind, slamming against my ribs, screaming at me to tell the truth, but my brain had already done the math — any explanation I gave right now would only make it worse. I'd sound desperate. Caught.
Camille took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "If you never wanted him," she said quietly, "why the hell did you marry him in the first place?"
I couldn't answer. My hands were shaking.
"You wanted the money." Her voice stayed soft, almost kind, which made it worse. "To support your little side piece, right? That way you get both — the cash and the love story. Smart, honestly."
"I don't—" The words came out broken. "I don't have—"
"Do you even believe yourself?" Camille's smile didn't move. "Because I sure as hell don't."
My fingers tightened around the gift bag until my knuckles went white. Elliot stood half a step behind her, silent, his face unreadable. He wasn't defending me. He wasn't saying a goddamn word. That silence hit harder than anything Camille had said.
Camille tilted her head, her voice dropping. "Serena. How can you be this shameless?"
The word landed like a slap.
She turned to Elliot, wounded now, betrayed. "You stole my marriage and then you trampled all over it. You make me sick."
Then, back to me. "Harold took you in because of your mother. That's the only reason any of this happened — he owed her something, so he made Elliot marry you. That's charity, Serena. Not a blank check."
Her voice sharpened. "You think because we gave you a year, you won? You're a stand-in. A placeholder. And now here you are with some other guy, acting like you're actually Mrs. Ashford."
I couldn't breathe. Every word was designed to strip me down, and the worst part was that half of it was true. The marriage had been a deal. I'd known that from the start.
I just hadn't known it had an expiration date.
Camille's gaze dropped to my coat — the beige one I'd bought two years ago, back when I was still working double shifts. "Look at you," she murmured. "Head to toe, you scream doesn't belong."
The nausea hit without warning, sharp and brutal. I pressed my hand to my mouth, swallowing hard, forcing it back down. My other hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
Tell him. The wolf was screaming now. Tell him it's his. Tell him about the baby.
No. I shoved the thought down. Not like this. Not now. It'll only make everything worse.
If I told him here, in front of her, it wouldn't matter that it was true. It would look like a last-ditch play. She'd twist it. He'd doubt it. And I'd lose the only thing I had left.
Camille noticed. Her eyes narrowed, tracking my hand on my stomach, and her smile returned. "What's wrong? Your lover pissed you're here?"
I forced myself to breathe.
"You're right," I said.
The words came out flat, hollow. I let her win. Because fighting would only prove I had something to fight for.
Elliot finally spoke.
"Serena." His voice was calm, detached. "This was always just a deal. You've got your life. I've got mine. That's fair. So don't explain, and don't feel guilty."
That broke something.
Not the words themselves — I'd heard worse tonight. But the tone. The ease. Like I was a problem he'd already solved in his head. I'd spent a year trying to be enough for this man, and he'd just made it clear that none of it had ever registered.
The gift bag slipped from my hand and hit the pavement.
My knees buckled. I reached for something to steady myself but there was nothing, and I felt myself starting to go down. Elliot took Camille's hand and turned toward the house.
"Dinner's at seven," he said over his shoulder. "Don't be late."
I watched them walk away. Watched the door close. Watched the space go empty.
Then my knees hit the ground.
I pressed one hand flat against the driveway, the other clutching at my chest. My ribs felt too tight. Everything hurt in a way that didn't have a name.
It hurts. God, it really fucking hurts.
The driver found me like that — on my knees, barely breathing. He helped me up without asking questions, and I let him guide me back to the car.
"Where to, ma'am?"
I swallowed. "Harold's house."
The city slid past the window, and every block triggered something I didn't want to remember. The church where we'd gotten married. The restaurant where we'd had our first family dinner. The park we'd walked through last Christmas.
Every memory was sharp and clear and completely useless now.
It was never real. Not for him.
I closed my eyes and let my hand rest against my stomach.
I'm sorry, I thought. I wanted to give you something whole. But I can't even protect myself right now.
I spent three minutes in the rearview mirror putting myself back together. Foundation over the red around my eyes. Lipstick to cover how pale I'd gone.
Vivienne answered the door in a deep green suit, her chestnut hair curled just enough to look effortless. She was Elliot's mother, the woman who ran the family's charitable foundation with an iron grip, and the second she saw my face, her smile died.
"Jesus, Serena. What happened to you?"
"Nothing." My voice came out too quiet. "Just tired."
She stepped aside to let me in, but her eyes never left my face.
The living room was warm, familiar. Vivienne waved off the staff and sat across from me, waiting.
The silence stretched.
I picked up the tea she'd poured, but my hands were shaking. The surface rippled, and I set it back down.
"Vivienne." My throat felt like I'd swallowed glass. "Elliot and I are getting divorced."
The words came out, and the second they did I felt something inside me crack wide open.
Vivienne shot to her feet. The teacup rattled. "What?!"
