1. Serena
Serena
PRESENT DAY
“This is sloppy.” I pointed my red laser at the crack in the ceiling. “Look at that crack.”
The contractor blinked up. “I don’t think that’s a crack. It’s a spider web.”
“It’s a crack,” I snapped at him, and kept walking down the hall, frowning at every little imperfection I saw.
I can’t believe we’re still dealing with this shit.
The project was already two weeks behind schedule. Two million dollars sunk into this property. And I was losing control.
I couldn’t let Mama know. Definitely not Erik.
I’d gotten what I wanted. King Developments was mine. He may run the empire—but this? This was mine.
Everywhere I looked, people wandered like dazed cattle like this wasn’t urgent, like I hadn’t already spelled out the stakes a hundred fucking times.
I stopped in the kitchen, eyes narrowing at a cabinet handle that was off center. “This isn’t even aligned. Did someone eyeball this? I said three-point-two inches from the edge, not three-point-six.”
The contractor flinched and scribbled something down.
Take a breath before you have a fucking stroke.
I couldn’t. There were no breaks. No days off. Shit had to get done, and I had to make shit happen. I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt…unfinished. Why wasn’t this fulfilling anymore?
My jaw ached from clenching it. My temples throbbed with every heartbeat, and my shoulders felt like they’d been stitched into my ears.
It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. Because that’s what a King delivered. That’s what Mama always said.
No excuses. No flaws. No weakness.
I was a goddamn machine now—a finely tuned, professionally polished, emotionless machine. The kind Mama had designed.
For six years, I hadn’t made a single mistake. The only mistake had been giving my heart to something I knew was dead on arrival. I anticipated her every need. I made the company money. I didn’t make anyone second-glance my way. I’d become invaluable.
I paused in the unfinished master suite, staring at the empty windows, the cold floor. If I let myself really feel, really let the silence sink in, it was always there, just under the surface.
The exhaustion.
No matter what I did, it didn’t go away. No massage, or coffee, or LED light therapy could fix it. At this point, it was second nature to run on fumes. I was tired.
I couldn’t remember the last time I took a real breath.
And then—like a crack in the foundation of my own thoughts—came the whisper:
What if I leave?
My heart stuttered, and I froze. What if I just…walked away? The thought was a live wire in my mind, too loud, too sharp.
But how could I leave when I’d spent years proving I could run King Developments?
I shoved the thought down before it could take root.
I wasn’t going anywhere. This was mine. This was me . I worked for this. I didn’t miss him. I missed who I was when I thought I could have both him and King Developments.
I closed my eyes for a beat. Just one. Then I opened them.
“This backsplash is crooked,” I said tightly, voice cool again. “Fix it.”
It was all for a good cause. To make King Developments untouchable —not just successful. We would own all of California in real estate development. Was it right, what I did over the years for that goal? No. But brute force was necessary. I’d wiped all but one competitor from town.
That was my plan.
Plans kept things from slipping. Spreadsheets didn’t lie. They didn’t whisper behind your back or flip on you in the press. They didn’t make your heart hurt. I could rely on formulas. People? Not so much.
If I got the Harrington estate, Mama would have no choice but to admit I was the future of King Developments. That’s what I was looking forward to next.
It wasn’t just a win. It was the win.
I wasn’t fucking around anymore.
“We followed your specifications. I thought you—” the contractor said.
What I wanted was to take over King Enterprises. What I got was King Developments, our real estate arm of the enterprise, and hadn’t I learned to do a lot with a little?
“You thought wrong,” I cut him off sharply. “Now explain to me why I’m looking at this bullshit?”
His jaw flexed. He didn’t answer fast enough.
Buzz.
Buzz buzz.
Texts. Emails. More things to sign off on coming through my phone.
The contractor stumbled out some piss-poor excuse.
“I’m not paying premium for fucking mediocrity,” I hissed. “You don’t get to take shortcuts on my job. You understand that, right? Or do you need someone to draw you a picture?”
“N-no, Miss King…”
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz buzz buzz.
I exhaled sharply through my nose.
“You have twenty-four hours to make this right,” I said. “Or I will make an example out of you.”
I turned, shifting my Chanel purse on my shoulder, and then looked back at him.
“You will give me a hefty , hefty discount that will be on my office desk in an hour as well for my pain and suffering for all that I witnessed today.”
“Miss King?—”
“Get to fucking work,” I demanded. Most of the workers who’d been nosy listening to our conversation scattered as I walked by.
Text messages continued to flood my phone, each notification a jarring reminder of everything else going wrong with my life.
Did he do this? Did he secretly pay Leonard to sabotage this place? I hadn’t thought about it till now, but I believed it.
This had Miles over all it. This property had been nothing but trouble since we got it. Or rather, since I snatched it out from under Miles. God, I hated him. He’d said nothing when he left. Just like I said nothing that night.
He’d turned from my lover to my worst rival.
I chose this over him. I can’t regret it now.
I made it to my Range Rover and pulled out my phone to see the family group chat going crazy with nonsense memes from Gigi, Laurene’s constant pictures of baby stuff she’d bought, and Erik’s thumbs-ups.
Didn’t I mute this text thread?
It wasn’t like I ever responded, and none of siblings cared to ask why.
Suddenly, the shrill ring of the phone made me jump. I checked the caller ID. Mama. I breathed deeply as I settled into the driver’s seat.
“Serena, we gotta talk about Laurene’s baby shower tomorrow,” Mama said when I answered.
Great.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.
After the showdown between Mama and Laurene when she was in the hospital after her car crash last year, I thought maybe something had shifted in our mother.
Mama, the woman who ruled this family like a kingdom, had softened . Not with everyone. Just with Laurene. Now that Lu was pregnant, Mama acted like she was the second coming.
That softness? That grace?
She never showed that to me.
“You’re responsible for getting us the perfect present,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m stressed enough dealing with Reese’s mother and sister’s tacky décor.”
Buzz. Another text from the project site. I didn’t look at it.
I rubbed my temples, my eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built up. A little throb in my head told me a migraine was brewing.
“Make sure it’s something really special. We don’t want to look like we’re just showing up with any old thing,” Mama continued.
“Right,” I murmured.
“Also, I need you to coordinate with Erik. He’s already had a brilliant lunch with that investor from Charleston—the real estate one with the vineyard son?
He’s lining something up with the Heritage Commission too.
He’s doing so well lately.” She said it like it was news.
Like it hadn’t been the headline of every conversation since January.
I opened my eyes.
“I thought I was coordinating with the commission. Since when does he deal with anything related to my company?”
“You were,” she said vaguely. “Either way, he’s handling it now. That lets you handle the baby shower.”
She said it so easy. Like it was nothing.
“Understood,” I said, my voice smooth, unbothered. “I’ve got it covered.”
Through the tinted window, I watched my contractor storm out to scream at the crew again. Another mistake. Another delay.
“And I need you to run to the florist and handle the new arrangements I made. The flowers they tried to give us were poor quality. Too…common. You know what I like. Make sure they’re at the country club in an hour.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued.
“Make sure you’re there early to help set up. And bring me a latte from Café L’Amour while you’re on your way too. Oat milk, sugar-free syrup. We just need the right gift to tie it all together.” Another pause. “Did I already say that?”
“Yes, Mama. I’ve got it handled.”
“Good,” Mama said, and the call ended without a goodbye.
I stared at the dark screen for a beat too long.
If I screamed, no one would hear it through the soundproof glass.
If I cried, it would smear my mascara.
My phone buzzed incessantly again. The screen was a chaotic mess of notifications—texts from my mother giving me more orders, messages from my assistant about urgent issues at the company, Gigi sending us pictures of Walter in a sweater.
As I scrolled through the onslaught, a new text notification appeared from an unknown number. My heart skipped a beat as I read the message: We need to talk.
Fuck.
I hadn’t thought about her in forever. How the fuck did she get my number?
I blocked her number and quickly deleted the message, my fingers shaking a bit.
Miles entered my thoughts again. It wasn’t real love. It couldn’t have been. Not if it ended that easily. I’d made the right call. I had to.
I shoved it down. Hard. I wasn’t going anywhere. This was who I was.
This was all I was.
I screamed uncontrollably, overwhelmed.
My fist slammed against the steering wheel, again and again. The sting was nothing compared to the mess inside me. Tears blurred my vision. My breath broke into heaving sobs, and still, I kept pounding. Until my knuckles bruised. Until my throat burned. Until I didn’t sound like myself anymore.
And then—silence.
I crumpled forward, forehead against the wheel, every muscle trembling.
My temple pulsed with a sharp, familiar ache.
I reached into the glove compartment with shaking fingers, fumbling until I found the bottle.
No water. I didn’t care. I tossed the aspirin back and swallowed it dry, nearly choking.
Then I sat up.
I smoothed my suit jacket, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
I stared into the mirror. And when I blinked?—
Serena King stared back.
Unbothered. Untouchable. Unbreakable.