Chapter 2

Serena’s POV

Jax was on top of her, his familiar back muscles flexing, sweat sliding down his skin as he moved with raw hunger. Anna's silver-blonde hair spilled across the pillowcases we had chosen together at IKEA—the ones with the tiny embroidered anchors I'd insisted were "so us." Her long legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. 

Time froze. The cake box slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a sickening splat. Cream and strawberries exploded across the hardwood. The sound cracked through the apartment—loud, impossible to ignore.

For one terrible heartbeat, no one moved. Anna reacted first. She stiffened, then her body relaxed in a way that told me this wasn’t panic. It was relief. She had been waiting for this. Slowly, deliberately, she sat up and let the sheet fall away completely. She rose from the bed, naked and unashamed. With a casual bend, she stepped into the red-bottom Louboutins waiting by the nightstand, the sharp click of the heels echoing as she walked toward me. Her eyes met mine with something close to triumph.

"Serena," she said softly, stopping just inches away. "Why keep pretending that you're still—"

I staggered back, my foot catching on the edge of the rug near the hallway. My voice came out broken and raw. "Anna… how could you?"

Something in her face snapped. My shock, my stupid, pleading tone—it must have cut right through whatever satisfaction she was feeling. Before I could process another word, her hand came down across my face.

Slap!

My head snapped to the side. Fire bloomed across my cheek. The sting was immediate, but it was nothing compared to the crushing pain in my chest. I stumbled, knees hitting the floor hard as cream from the ruined cake soaked into my jeans. I stayed there, half-crouched, one hand pressed to my burning face, the apartment suddenly feeling too small—the bed only steps from the entryway, the living room rug now my pathetic anchor.

Shock hit first—raw disbelief. This couldn’t be real. Not them. Not like this.

Anna stood over me, breathing hard. She didn’t look sorry. If anything, my reaction seemed to feed her. "Look at you," she whispered, voice sweet and venomous. "Still playing the victim. Still expecting everyone to feel bad for perfect Serena Reed." She tilted her head, studying the tears starting to spill down my cheeks. "Does it hurt? Good. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see that look on your face."

Jax didn’t rush to cover himself. He stood up slowly from the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. For a second, something like regret flickered across his expression. But it felt rehearsed now, like the same soft apology he’d used a hundred times before—right before he got his way. 

"Serena, look… I didn’t want you to find out like this—" he started, the familiar apologetic tone I’d heard so many times before.

I looked up at him desperately, still on the floor. "Jax… please. This isn’t you. Tell me this isn’t real."

He glanced at Anna. She gave him a small, encouraging smile, like she was handing him permission. The hesitation in his eyes drained away. The mask slipped completely. A slow smile curved his lips as he reached for a cigarette on the nightstand, lit it, and took a long drag. He watched me through the smoke, eyes dark with something I’d never seen before—amusement, fascination, hunger.

"Actually," he said, voice losing every trace of warmth, "I think I wanted you to see."

The words landed like another slap. My mind raced, piecing together fragments that suddenly felt wrong. The bank notifications I’d ignored because Jax said he’d handle them. The way the OnlyFans backend always required his login. The hospital bills that somehow cleared even when subscriber payouts looked suspiciously low. A cold wave of panic hit me—deeper than the betrayal, sharper than the sting on my cheek.

Anna stepped closer, towering over me on the edge of the rug. She pressed the dirty red sole of her Louboutin into my thigh, grinding it in. The grit dug through my jeans. "You really thought you were special?" She laughed, low and bitter. "The precious Serena Reed. I was the fat sidekick next to you for years. Every party, every guy who looked straight past me to get to you… I told myself it didn’t matter. But it did. It always did." Her voice dropped. "Now it’s your turn to be nothing."

Jax crouched down in front of me, grabbing my chin with bruising force. His thumb traced my bottom lip almost tenderly while his other hand rested on my shoulder. He blew smoke gently into my face. "Here’s the reality, baby. You remember how you were panicking when your dad got worse? How you asked me to handle the account transfers because it was ‘easier’? How you let Anna set up that business email for the OnlyFans so you wouldn’t have to deal with the messages? You even gave me the password when the hospital bills started piling up. Said you trusted me."

He let the words hang, watching my eyes widen as the realization sank in. "I’ve been paying for everything for six months—the chemo, the experimental treatments, the private room. All of it. You thought those fitness account earnings were covering it? They were never enough. I’ve been fronting the rest, and the money from your little page has been rolling through accounts you don’t even know exist."

His grip tightened. "So here’s how this works. Two choices."

He leaned closer, his voice calm and deliberate, savoring each second of my crumbling expression. "One: you clean Anna’s shoe right now like a good girl. We keep the account going—maybe push things a little further for the paying subscribers—and I’ll keep covering your father’s treatments. Every month, on time. You do what we say, and Daddy gets to live longer."

His smile widened. "Two: the three of us. Right here. We set up the camera, record everything. With our current high-tier clients begging for custom content, one solid night like that—clipped right, sold as a series—could easily cover the next couple months of treatment. Subscribers will lose their minds. And I finally get to see how far my sweet, perfect girlfriend will really go."

He released my chin and straightened up, looking down at me like property. "Thirty seconds, babe," he murmured, checking his watch. "Choose."