Chapter 2
Manchester sleeps beneath a fine, persistent rain as Seraphina parks the car in front of her house in Alderley Edge.
The neighborhood streetlights cast golden reflections across the wet pavement, and the Victorian facades, with their elegant details and manicured gardens, remain shrouded in an almost unreal silence at this hour of the early morning.
It had always seemed to her the perfect place to raise a family: discreet, elegant, far enough from the bustle of Manchester to guarantee privacy, and exclusive enough to meet the Chapmans’ expectations.
For years, that house had symbolized exactly that: security, stability, and success.
Tonight, however, it strikes her as little more than a massive structure filled with rooms where she can hide from herself.
Seraphina turns off the engine and sits motionless for a few seconds, her hands still clenched around the steering wheel.
Her body is still trembling. The memory of Nerissa’s lips against hers clings to her skin like a mark, impossible to erase.
The entire drive home, she’s tried to convince herself that it was just a mistake, another lapse brought on by alcohol, nostalgia, and six months of distance.
But it doesn’t work. Because what she felt within those four walls was anything but accidental, and guilt pounds relentlessly against her chest.
They didn’t arrive home together because Elliot had left with the investors for a cocktail gathering away from the hotel.
Seraphina gets out of the car before her thoughts can overwhelm her and walks along the stone path to the main entrance.
Inside, the house remains almost completely dark, except for the dim lamp glowing in the living room.
She slips off her heels as soon as she closes the door, and the cold wooden floor beneath her feet brings her back to reality. She sets her purse on the console table in the foyer and heads toward the stairs when a weary voice drifts from the living room.
“It’s almost two o’clock.”
A jolt runs through her entire body. Elliot is sitting on the sofa, his tie loosened, a nearly empty glass of whiskey in his hand. As he looks up at her, his expression remains serene—always too serene—as though nothing could truly disrupt the order he imposes on his world.
“I didn’t know you were back,” Seraphina murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought you were going to stay with the guys a little longer.”
“I sent you a text,” he replies calmly, though his eyes linger on her face for a moment. Seraphina feels an uncomfortable pang of alarm. Will it show? Can someone still sense the trace of sex with someone else hours later? The idea seems ridiculous, yet fear settles in her body anyway.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it. My phone was on silent,” she explains as she walks over to the minibar and pours herself a glass of water, simply needing to move and break the intensity of his gaze.
“I figured. The gala went on for quite a while after that, I imagine.”
Elliot watches her drink intently. Seraphina avoids meeting his eyes.
In fact, she has spent years perfecting that delicate balance between closeness and distance: she knows how to make her voice sound natural, how to smile at exactly the right moment, and how to hide her exhaustion behind elegance.
Tonight, however, she feels dangerously out of control.
“Is everything okay?” Elliot asks. The question should sound affectionate between a married couple, but instead it sounds formal, as though they’ve both been operating on autopilot for a long time, having forgotten how to speak honestly to one another.
“Yes, of course,” she replies. “I’m just tired. I’ve been on my feet for hours.”
He takes a small sip of whiskey and nods slowly.
“Yeah, you look exhausted.”
Because she is. Exhausted from lying, from holding back, from pretending there isn’t a huge fracture running through her life.
“And the week has been so long,” Seraphina adds, moving a little closer, though she still maintains a safe distance from her husband. “The meeting, the quarterly budgets... you know how it goes.”
Elliot sets his glass on the coffee table and sits up, stretching his shoulders.
“Come to bed. You have a board meeting first thing tomorrow morning.”
There it is again: the impeccable organization of their lives, the schedules, the commitments, the perfectly coordinated routines.
Seraphina nods and follows him up the stairs, feeling each step burn more intensely beneath her feet.
When Elliot leans in to kiss her cheek before stepping into the dressing room, she suppresses an instinctive reaction.
For the first time in a long while, her husband’s touch feels strange, almost foreign.
And that feeling tears her apart a little more.
*
Morning comes too soon. Seraphina opens her eyes before the alarm goes off.
For a few seconds, she lies still beneath the sheets, listening to Elliot’s slow breathing beside her.
Then she remembers everything: the balcony, Nerissa, her gasps as she came.
Her stomach tightens with a devastating mix of anxiety and desire that is almost unbearable.
She carefully sits up, trying not to wake him, and heads to the bathroom.
The reflection staring back at her from the mirror forces her to stop. She looks tired, more than usual. There’s something different in her eyes, something dangerously alive, and she hates herself a little for feeling this way.
Half an hour later, she heads downstairs to the kitchen, already dressed for work. The house begins to wake around her: the distant sound of Elliot’s shower, the coffee maker starting up, and the constant murmur of rain against the windows. Then she hears hurried footsteps in the hallway.
“Mom!” Ivy exclaims, appearing first, disheveled and still half-asleep in her wrinkled pink pajamas. The six-year-old throws herself into her arms as if they haven’t seen each other in days, even though only a few hours have passed.
Seraphina smiles automatically and bends down to pick her up, inhaling the familiar scent of children’s shampoo.
“Good morning, my little one. Did you sleep well?”
“Oliver says it’s going to rain all day and we won’t be able to go out in the garden,” Ivy complains with a pout, burying her face in her mother’s neck.
“Because it is going to rain all day,” Oliver chimes in, entering behind her with that solemn expression so typical of a nine-year-old who considers himself exceptionally sensible. “Alexa said so this morning.”
Seraphina can’t help but laugh as she sets Ivy back on the floor.
“Then we’ll have to survive the British weather like true champions. How about we make pancakes and build a fort in the living room when Dad gets home from work?”
Oliver barely smiles, though he struggles to keep a straight face, and takes a seat at the kitchen island.
Moments like these always break something inside Seraphina. She loves her children with a fierce and absolute intensity; they are the only thing she has ever been completely certain of. And that is precisely why the guilt becomes almost unbearable.
While she makes breakfast, Ivy recounts a story from the school play in exhaustive detail, and Oliver complains that a classmate cheated on a science test. Everything seems so normal, so ordinary, that Seraphina suddenly feels like crying.
What kind of person would risk all of this?
The image of Nerissa invades her mind again without permission.
“Just tell me once that you’re happy.”
She grips her coffee cup tightly.
“Mom,” Oliver calls.
She looks up. The boy is watching her with a slight frown.
“Are you listening to me?”
Seraphina forces a smile and affectionately ruffles his hair.
“Of course I am, sweetie. Sorry, I was thinking about today’s meeting. Tell me again about those traps.”
But in reality, she wasn’t listening, and she doesn’t really listen for the next hour either, as she gets dressed, gets in the car, and heads to work.
The Hale Medical Group’s main clinic occupies one of the most modern buildings in Manchester’s financial district.
Glass, steel, and minimalist lines carefully designed to convey prestige and excellence.
Seraphina arrives just before 8:30. The lobby is already bustling with activity, and everyone greets her with deference.
“Good morning, Dr. Chapman.”
“Lady Chapman.”
“It’s good to see you back.”
She responds with automatic smiles as she crosses the building toward the private elevators.
Her office, occupying an entire corner of the top floor, is where she coordinates the group’s various private clinics as financial director.
Normally, the space gives her a sense of control, but at that moment she can only feel trapped.
She has just set her bag down on the desk when someone knocks on the door.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and for a second, the world stops spinning.
Nerissa enters with a dark coat draped over her shoulders and a folder tucked under her arm.
Her hair falls loosely around her face, and the serene expression she wears is almost insulting after what happened the night before.
Seraphina stares at her for several seconds, her pulse racing.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
Nerissa slowly closes the door and turns to face her.
“Good morning to you too, Seph.”
She’s the only person in the world who has ever shortened her name like that. And the only one Seraphina would ever allow to do it.
“Nerissa…”
“Don’t worry, I’m just here for work,” she replies casually, lifting the folder.
“The orthopedic department’s budget needs approval before the end of the quarter, and they’re driving me crazy with the cuts.
You know that as a surgeon there are some things I can’t allow, so I thought you could go over it with me. ”