10. Serena
Serena
“You look beautiful, Serena,” Laurene said, putting the veil on me.
A veil. Symbolic. Decorative. Pointless.
I’d never thought my wedding would be this way. Scratch that. I never imagined a wedding at all.
Don’t lie, you wanted a wedding, but this is all that you’re getting.
Not because I didn’t believe in them. Logically, they had utility—merging estates, aligning power structures, consolidating influence. I just always thought that Mama would have enough use for me that she wouldn’t marry me off.
But no. I was serving a purpose.
This wedding was not like Laurene’s.
No dramatic announcements or parties, no fancy location. No pomp. No string quartet. No flashbulbs. No dress. Just a city hall wedding in my best pantsuit and expensive heels.
Laurene came around to face me. “Are you okay?”
My first instinct was to say yes. Yes was tidy. Yes didn’t open the door to a conversation I didn’t know how to have.
What was I supposed to feel right now? Nerves? Resentment? Relief?
I’m marrying Miles.
I wanted someone to tell me what the right emotion was, so I could feel that one and move on.
“You can talk to me. Be honest. This is a lot to take in,” Laurene said.
I straightened my ivory pantsuit and fixed my cuff. This calmed me down. Details. Always the details. They were easier to handle than my nervous stomach and racing heart.
“I’m fine ,” I said, sharper than I meant to.
“I’m not falling apart. I’m not scared. I don’t need to cry to process this like you do.
I’m doing what’s required of me. I don’t have the luxury of running away to Paris, screwing everything up, and coming back to open arms and applause. That’s not my function.”
It might have been wrong the way to say it, but Laurene didn’t understand.
I’m not her. No matter what I did or tried, I could never amount to Laurene. The one people made room for, bent over backward to protect, praise, love . It never happened for me.
But it still fucking hurt.
Laurene’s face fell. I regretted what I said, but couldn’t undo it.
Gigi rushed into the bathroom with a bouquet in her hands.
“What’s taking so long? We’re on a schedule here,” she snapped as she gave me a once-over. “Nice suit. Very you. Bland .”
I flipped her off.
Gigi looked between us. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
“You did something, what did you do? You got that look on your face.”
“G, it’s fine—” Laurene started.
“Let’s just go.” I took one last look in the mirror and turned, ready to walk out, and Gigi shook her head, stopping me with one hand and pushing me back.
“This is more than you just being mean and surly.” Gigi narrowed her gaze on me. “We’re gonna air this shit out before we go. So, who wanna talk first? I got all day.”
Sighing loudly, I glanced at Laurene, who just shrugged and looked away.
Great. I hurt her feelings.
But that was life. I only got praise when I produced. Good grades. Flawless plans. Keeping it together.
Love was usefulness.
So where was my love when I was being useful to the entire fucking family right now?
Gigi snapped, “Don’t be a bitch to Lu. Nobody is telling you that you gotta act all gangster about this! All of us would be pissing our pants, you damn robot. If you can’t be real with your sisters, who you gonna be real with?”
Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I almost let my guard down. Almost.
Would they even understand? I was going to have to look at and live with my mistake each and every day.
“I’m doing what I have to,” I insisted. “What more do you want from me? I’m not going to cause a scene. It’s bad enough I’m playing along with the veil and bouquet. That’s what we do in this family, isn’t it? We show up. We get it done.”
Laurene and Gigi shared a look. I hated that look. It was one they’d had since childhood when they were in on the joke and I wasn’t.
“No one’s asking you to fall apart, Serena. But you’re allowed to feel something . Even about Miles,” Laurene said.
“God, give poor Miles strength if he’s dealing with her,” Gigi muttered. “You got shit easy, at least you know Miles. Lu didn’t even know Reese like that, imagine going through that.”
Laurene pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll make sure to say the same to whoever gets stuck with your ass,” I snapped at her.
“It’s obvious you’ve had a crush on Miles since we were kids. You ain’t even happy you gonna get to have him in your place? Shirtless. Naked…” Gigi grinned evilly at me.
I do not need more thoughts about naked Miles.
“He’s my arranged husband, not a gigolo,” I responded stiffly.
“Don’t knock the profession. I’ve dabbled with the escorts.”
Laurene made a face. “You have?”
I turned back to the mirror, inspecting my makeup. There were no flaws.
Gigi ignored her. “You think he’s not gonna be walking around in just a towel sometimes?”
Laurene mulled over that. “I mean…she’s not wrong.”
“I’m just saying. Miles might be willing to put you through the mattress even if it’s in the name of revenge against Erik or if he just needs to get a load off. If I were him, I’d do it to be petty. I’m pretty sure you’re still a virgin.”
Laurene and I shared a glance, and I hated that my skin flushed and I looked away.
“Ah!” Gigi pointed. “You are a virgin.”
“Georgiana, please,” Laurene told her. “We have a wedding to go to?—”
“What’s the rush? We are all grown-ass women. We can talk about sex. Hell, we are the physical manifestation of the consequences of it! Look at you! Hunching.” Gigi pointed at Laurene’s baby bump.
“Look, no!” I snapped and shook my head. “I don’t need any lessons. I don’t want advice. Can we just get out of here, so we can all go home and I can start to forget that this is happening?”
“Welp, I tried. I’m just gonna let God handle you. Here.” She tossed the bouquet at me, and it hit my arm before falling to the floor.
Laurene shook her head. “Damn, G.”
I picked the bouquet off the floor. Gigi looked like she could spit, and Laurene just looked sad.
“Let’s go.”
I pretended to be calm, but I was terrified the closer I got to the mayor’s office. What were my priorities? My goals? If I ran through those again, I would feel centered, calmer. Not like I was hurtling off a skyscraper at this very moment.
Emails. Had to send emails. Final financial snapshots. Get rid of Jenese and get my life back on track.
Erik exploded out of the mayor’s office. He bowled us over, ignoring us completely.
“Erik, where the hell you going?” Gigi called after him. “You’re my ride!”
He didn’t even look back as he marched down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
“Well damn, I guess he objects,” Gigi muttered.
“You gotta joke about everything?” Laurene frowned at her.
My heart hammered, and I gaped at Miles, standing in the doorway frozen, jaw clenched tight, a fist balled so hard his arm trembled.
My eyes just drank him in, from his chest to his waist, to his legs all ready to rumble. My skin prickled with heat, low and treacherous.
My husband.
Miles quickly spun on his heel, storming inside.
“Not a good sign necessarily, but maybe the after-party will be better? We are gonna eat after this, right?” Gigi asked.
I ignored them and tightened my grip on the bouquet, walking slowly into the office. Fine. He wanted to be an asshole. I could match that energy as well. I’d be the biggest bitch he ever saw coming.
The temperature of the room dropped the moment I stepped inside. The room was split cleanly in two, like a courtroom. My family on one side, Miles’s family on the other.
Half the room hated this moment; the other half hated each other.
There were no happy faces.
Only grim. Sad. Angry. Depressed. No one could even bother to pretend and fake it for me.
Then came the chirp of a breathy voice that didn’t match the tension. “I’m sorry I’m late! I had an emergency at work…”
Every head turned.
Noelle, Laurene’s best friend since childhood, flew in, wide-eyed. “I saw Erik…” She stopped talking when she saw our faces, and grimaced when she glanced at Miles.
“Oh,” she squeaked, blinking rapidly. She scurried over to sit on my side next to Reese, who was the only one who seemed unfazed.
“Shall we get started?” Dante said.
My gaze lingered on Miles for a last moment, a silent question hanging in the air between us.
I clutched the bouquet tightly in my hand, its stiff stems digging into my palms. Laurene kindly offered to take it, freeing my hand to accept Miles’s outstretched one.
“Grab his hand,” Gigi whispered loudly, pulling Walter out of her purse to sit on her lap. The dog barked at me, and I glared at him.
This isn’t justice. This isn’t healing. This is PR.
This was two broken legacies being stitched together in public view, as if slapping our last names into a headline would somehow fix the rot beneath it all.
But then I looked up.
And in Miles’s eyes, I saw it—that flicker of old memories coming back to haunt.
I’d liked how he saw things—tilted, funny, unsanitized. I liked that he noticed details, the same way I did. That he made chaos seem charming. I liked how he saw me.
Until he didn’t.
My hand trembled as I held Miles’s.
His palm was warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that made my stomach knot.
I wanted to hate the way his touch felt solid when everything inside me felt like it was fracturing.
But I couldn’t. Because I remembered what it felt like to be held together by him.
Do not cry. Do not shake. Do not run.
Mayor Castillo cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Serena Colette King and Miles Donovan Whitmore in marriage.”
My name didn’t feel like mine.
But I nodded anyway. I could nod. I could recite the script. I could survive this.
King Developments was all that mattered. That company was mine. I couldn’t lose it. What would I be without it?