35. Serena
Serena
I lay on the bed all day. I heard Miles moving through the apartment, but I didn’t make a move to talk. I wasn’t as upset with him anymore.
I felt stupid.
Miles had his own secrets, and I still had mine.
But more, I had confronted Mama.
I told her how I felt. I tried not to feel some kind of way when she didn’t call. I expected that. If I was going to start putting myself first, I couldn’t worry about her feelings anymore.
Eventually, I managed to get up, but when I walked into the kitchen, Miles was nowhere to be found. Doughboy followed, hopping onto the kitchen island, and meowing at me.
The cat hadn’t left me all night.
“I don’t know about our friendship,” I told the cat. “Don’t get used to it.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out. A text from Dante lit the screen.
Jenese is making a move. Told her I’d take her out tonight. My place outside town. 9PM. You need to be ready.
My heart caught in my throat. He sent the address a second later, and a cold rush of nerves slithered through me, sharp and electric.
This was it—the moment I’d been waiting for and dreading all at once.
I stepped out of the car, my breath visible in the cool night air.
I pulled up at Dante’s property, following his instructions to take the back entrance so Jenese wouldn’t spot me.
We were about an hour out of town, up in the windy hills.
All mayors traditionally lived in the mayor’s mansion in town, so why did Dante have property out here in the middle of nowhere?
I was clueless. You couldn’t really see the house from the road; it was hidden by the pines.
I snuck along the back path, my boots crunching on the gravel.
I could hear the waves below, a reminder of how close we were to the cliff edge.
The door opened in front of me, and a shadow of a person forced me back onto the wall of the house. “Wait!” Dante hissed.
The suit, shoes, and politician’s mask were gone. He wore a black henley, dark jeans, and scuffed boots. His jaw, unshaven, was tight.
Not my type, but Gigi’s. I could see why she was flirting with him.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I convinced her to bring her laptop. She’s tipsy. Use that to your advantage.”
I half expected her to be behind him.
“I told her I was getting more wine. I distracted her with my album collection.”
I lifted a brow. “You have an album collection?”
“Not now, King.” Dante rolled his eyes. “I know we said wire, but I did something better. I have some cameras hidden. One in the vase on the table. The other in the mini statue on the mantel. Stand by those, make sure you speak loudly and clearly, and you’ll have everything you need.”
I made a face. “You handled everything for me?”
“Nothing is ever free, remember that about me.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope.
“If she starts giving you shit, show her this. She’s gonna fucking lose it.”
I pulled it from his fingers and opened it. My breath hitched.
Inside was a photo. Grainy. But unmistakable.
Jenese. Younger. In a hotel room.
“Where did you get this?”
“I told you. It pays to have friends.”
I looked back down at it and nodded, sliding it into my pocket.
Dante stepped in closer, just a breath of space between us now. “You’ve got ten, maybe fifteen minutes before she gets antsy. Make it count. I’ll be around.”
“Around?” That didn’t sound comforting, and it was almost the middle of nowhere. “What if she tries to bolt?” I asked.
“She won’t.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once before stepping back toward the path where I’d parked. “I’ll be watching,” he said again.
I stepped inside, the music growing louder. I saw the bottle of Riesling on the counter, and I grabbed it, moving slowly through the kitchen into the front of the house.
Candles were everywhere.
Thick ones, thin ones, tall tapers balanced on brass holders, and fat tealights flickering across shelves and windowsills. Their soft gold glow lit the space in a romantic haze, casting shifting shadows against the walls and ceiling.
I paused just inside the threshold, fingers tightening around the wine bottle. My heartbeat was steady and low, but my nerves buzzed just beneath the surface. This time, I wasn’t here to react—I was here to finish it.
You’ve faced worse. You’ve outmaneuvered boardrooms, lawsuits, your own damn family. This is just another challenge. You love a challenge.
I forced a breath through my nose, smoothed a hand down my side, and stepped forward.
Her back was turned to me. “Dante, darling…you have exquisite taste,” Jenese purred, her tone syrupy and indulgent. Vinyls shuffled gently beneath her hand as she flipped through a crate of records on the floor.
She didn’t turn.
“Miles Davis. Etta. A little Donny Hathaway? You’ve been hiding this side of you.”
Then slowly she turned and saw me.
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you,” she said coolly, standing to her full height. “So that’s what this is.”
I held up the bottle of Riesling and offered her a smile. “I figured you were running low.”
Behind her, I caught sight of the small marble statue on the mantel—the camera Dante had placed there. I moved toward it with practiced ease, crossing in front of the velvet-draped table set for two.
“Isn’t Dante a little young for you?” I asked.
Jenese shrugged, pushing up her boobs. “Age is a state of mind. It’s a good thing you’re here. I wrote another chapter of the manuscript. But before that, I need your help with something else?—”
“There was a time,” I said softly, “when I craved your approval so badly, I would’ve done anything for it. Because I thought that’s what I needed to succeed.”
Jenese’s face hardened.
“But I’ve outgrown you,” I said. “Whatever game you were playing—whatever void I was trying to fill with you—it ends tonight.”
“ Now you have self-esteem?” She raised a brow, crossing her arms with a dark expression.
“No. What I have now is clarity.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You’re not as sharp as you think, Serena.
You really thought I wouldn’t keep a copy of everything you’ve done?
You were pathetic back then. I cared. I molded you, not even your own mother wanted to.
How can a girl with opportunities people would kill for be so insecure and jealous?
You’re still that same little girl, no matter how big you’re acting now.
It won’t ever change, honey, you just aren’t the type of person people care about. ”
“Give me the manuscript. Every copy you have, and we part ways amicably.”
Jenese laughed in my face. “You must be doing crack like your father-in-law.”
“I’m not here to beg,” I said. “I’m offering you a courtesy. But if you want to play—fine.” I pulled out the photo Dante gave me.
Her face fell. “A picture is not going to scare me.”
“I’ll leak it,” I said. “That photo, everything we’ve done—I send it all. Not just to the press. But to every man you’ve charmed. Every politician you’ve lied to. Every investor. Every husband.”
Her breath caught. She hid it well. But I heard it.
“You’re bluffing.”
“I don’t work for King Developments anymore, so what happens to me is whatever. I can’t be your cash cow anymore.”
“I’m not leaving without the Harrington estate,” she said, eyes glinting. “My partner needs that property. Badly.”
I froze.
“Your what?”
“Did you really think I was working alone this whole time? No, sugar. You were never the only one.” She shook her head. “Give it to me. Now.”
“This photo isn’t the only thing I have on you, Jenese. Just bow out gracefully. Don’t go out pitiful.” I gave her a look of disgust. “You’ve been played.”
Something unhinged in her face. Then she lunged.
I barely had time to brace before she slammed into me, fingers clawing at the photo. We crashed against the dinner table, wineglasses tumbling, the edge of a plate cracking against the floor. My elbow struck the corner hard, and I hissed, but I held on to the photo like it was my last weapon.
“Let me go!” I screamed.
We struggled—hands grappling, knocking over a candelabra as we slammed against the wall. One of the tall candles tumbled to the floor near the velvet drapes.
I didn’t see the flame at first. Not until I heard the soft hiss and the sudden whoosh of ignition.
“You ungrateful little bitch,” Jenese snarled. “I’m the only one who cared about you. You were like a daughter to me! I taught you how to win!”
I saw a fire starting near the curtain, smoke rising. Jenese knocked me over with the wooden chair; it shattered when I fell.
“I gave you everything. You can give me this. I deserve it. I’ve worked so hard!”
“You didn’t give me shit.” I got up and shoved her—hard—but she came right back. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back, and the photo fluttered to the floor between us.
We both looked at it, and she went to dive for it, and that’s when I saw it—the Riesling bottle, still standing on the edge of the table.
I grabbed it and swung.
CRACK.
Glass shattered against her shoulder and cheek. Wine sprayed everywhere—onto me, onto her, onto the floor. Jenese shrieked, stumbling back, hand flying to her face as blood ran bright and fast down her cheekbone and she collapsed.
Oh shit, I may have killed her.
The spilled alcohol lit up quickly. With terrifying speed, fire snaked up the corner of the wall. Smoke began to fill the room and I coughed as it filled my lungs.
Jenese, like something out of a horror film, slowly lifted up, and turned to me with bloodshot eyes. “I’ll kill you before I let you leave with that photo or my property.”
Just as the front door burst open.
MILES
Thirty Minutes before the Fire…
“This is a fucking mistake,” I muttered to myself.