Chapter 19
The office screen casts a cold, bluish light across Seraphina’s face as she reviews, for the third time, the same column of numbers.
She has a cup of cold coffee forgotten beside the keyboard and a constant tension lodged in the center of her chest that has been there for days.
She can no longer remember the last time she slept through the night without waking with a start, her heart racing, thinking about Adrian Beckett, the photographs he showed her, or the sickening fear that everything will blow up before she manages to regain any kind of control over her life.
Before her lie budgets, contract clauses, and authorizations related to the external consulting for the merger.
Daphne Mercer’s consulting firm. Every time her signature appears in the lower corner of a document, Seraphina feels an unpleasant twinge in her stomach, even though she acknowledges that Daphne is an impeccable professional.
However, she feels jealous that everything has to pass through her hands, that this woman must be fueling the very project that now keeps Daphne settled in the clinic as if she had always belonged there.
Seraphina forces herself to breathe slowly, filling her lungs. Numbers and more numbers. That’s all she has left.
She enters the security password and approves another transfer just as there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she replies.
The door opens, and immediately the air in the office changes completely.
Daphne enters, impeccable in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that elegantly highlights her figure.
She stops in the middle of the office. She carries a folder under her arm and exudes a confidence that Seraphina envies right now.
However, that is not what takes her breath away.
Nerissa enters beside her, wearing surgical scrubs under her white coat.
A few strands of hair brush against her face, and Seraphina stares at her.
Before sitting down, Nerissa absentmindedly brushes Daphne’s back with her hand in a small, natural gesture.
As if there were no longer any reason to hide anything.
Seraphina feels a void opening beneath her ribs, a hollow that expands rapidly and steals her breath.
“Have they… gotten back together?”
“Principal Chapman,” Daphne greets her politely. “We’re here to review the final validation of the operational entries. We want to make sure everything is in order before the next pre-merger board meeting.”
Seraphina forces herself to look away from Nerissa and focuses all her attention on the information in front of her, though the letters seem to dance before her eyes.
“Of course. Right away. Please make yourselves comfortable,” she replies calmly, gesturing for them to sit down.
Nerissa simply does so beside Daphne and exchanges a brief glance with her as they open the documents on the table.
That insignificant detail shatters something inside Seraphina.
Because she recognizes that spark. She knows it all too well.
It’s as if, right there in front of her, she could relive the look Nerissa used to give her as they walked along the River Dee, believing, for a few absurdly happy hours, that there was still a possible future for the two of them.
Now that look is directed at someone else, and the full realization of what she has allowed pierces her heart. Protecting herself and Nerissa from Adrian Beckett has worked all too well. Definitely. Because now she is painfully aware that she has lost her.
Daphne begins to talk about the budget adjustments, pointing out various figures in the report.
“As you can see, the redistribution of resources will allow us to significantly optimize the surgical area. Staff expansion is also key to the next phase,” Daphne explains, her voice clear and confident. “What do you think? Do you think we should make any further adjustments before signing?”
Seraphina catches only scattered fragments. “Redistribution of resources.” “Surgical optimization.” “Staff expansion.” The words blend together in a thick hum that fills her head as she watches Nerissa nod occasionally at Daphne’s comments.
“There’s no tension between them. No fear,” Seraphina thinks, and the thought hits her like a ton of bricks. “They’re just two women working together in broad daylight.”
The envy she feels is so intense it burns her throat. She shifts slightly in her chair, trying to hide the trembling in her fingers.
“Is there a problem with the figures?” Daphne asks suddenly, with a faint hint of concern that Seraphina doesn’t buy for a second.
She looks up, forcing herself to maintain her composure.
“No. From what I can see, everything is correct,” Seraphina replies, and signs the authorization.
Then Daphne gathers the documents and places them in her briefcase.
“Perfect. This will speed up the next phase of integration considerably. Thank you for your promptness, as always.”
Seraphina barely nods, her mouth dry. Then Nerissa speaks for the first time, leaning forward slightly.
“Thank you,” she says simply.
Just one word. Polite and professional. But the distance in her voice is unbearable for Seraphina.
Before, even in the middle of a meeting, there was always something hidden between them.
That delicious electric tension, a glance that lingered longer than usual, a secret language only they understood.
And now there’s nothing left of that. Nerissa stands up beside Daphne, and as they both leave the office together, Seraphina watches Daphne tilt her head slightly toward her while they whisper about something she can’t quite hear.
Nerissa smiles. A small smile. Real. Genuine.
The door closes, and Seraphina stands still behind her oak desk for several seconds, her chest tight.
Then she slowly takes her hands off the keyboard because they’re shaking too much to keep working.
She realizes that she has just signed away, with her own signature, the clean, bright life she herself has pushed Nerissa toward.
“I’ve lost her forever.”
Seraphina Chapman has thrown her happiness away.
On Sunday afternoon, Isobel and her husband’s backyard is filled with lively voices, the aroma of barbecue, and wine glasses clinking beneath a cloudy sky.
The children run across the perfectly manicured lawn, chasing each other with laughter, while several neighbors discuss upcoming summer vacations and fluctuations in the private markets with that privileged nonchalance that has always been a natural part of their world.
Seraphina moves among them as if she were a malfunctioning machine, with a forced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
She nods when someone speaks to her. She helps Isobel pass out drinks and clear away plates.
But inside, she feels such a brutal disconnect that at times she has the impression of watching her own life from the outside, like a spectator witnessing a bad comedy.
“The merger is going to take you to a whole new level,” comments one of Elliot’s partners as he accepts a glass of wine. “Fifty million doesn’t come along every day. You’ve done an impressive job.”
Elliot smiles proudly from the grill, turning several pieces of meat.
“The truth is, Seraphina has worked magic with the numbers,” he replies. “I’m just trying to keep all the agreements in order without showing how clumsy I am.”
Several people laugh knowingly. She pretends to laugh too, even though the comment makes her feel deeply sick.
Magic. If only they knew. If only everyone could see the photos from Chester.
Her hands clasped with another woman’s on the Roman walls.
The way she looked at Nerissa with love, thinking she was safe far away from Manchester.
This whole facade would come crashing down in a matter of hours.
“You have an admirable marriage,” Isobel says, approaching with a tray of fresh salad. “Really. You don’t find couples like that anymore these days. You can tell you love each other and that you’re still a team.”
Seraphina feels something twist violently inside her.
She looks at Elliot. He’s talking with other friends by the barbecue, relaxed, attractive, and perfectly at home in that life.
The impeccable father. The brilliant lawyer.
The husband who still looks at her with affection even after months of distance and lies.
Guilt pierces her again.
“Thank you, Isobel,” Seraphina murmurs, lowering her gaze for a moment. “That’s what we try to do… make it work every day.”
Isobel smiles warmly.
“Besides, the kids adore you. You can always tell by the way they behave. Oliver and Ivy are a delight.”
Seraphina looks down at Oliver and Ivy, who are playing near the rose bushes in her neighbor’s garden, oblivious to the storm brewing in their parents’ lives.
And the fear returns. Not the fear of Adrian.
Not the fear of scandal. The fear of losing them.
Because until now she’s tried to convince herself she could sustain both lives at the same time: the perfect mother, the secret lover, the impeccable executive.
But the lie is no longer holding up. It’s destroying everything.
The smell of grilled meat begins to feel suffocating.
The superficial conversations, the forced laughter, the investment funds, the recommendations for private schools.
Everything that once represented stability now seems like an elegantly decorated prison.
She looks at the garden, the big house, the perfection of that existence built up over the years.
And for the first time, she feels no pride.
Only exhaustion. A deep, corrosive weariness.
Because she realizes she has spent too long living to maintain an image rather than living for herself.
As evening falls and all the guests have left, Seraphina helps Isobel clean up and takes home a tray of leftover food. Decorative lights illuminate the lawn of her own house.
In her kitchen, she stands in silence for a moment, listening to Elliot’s distant footsteps in the living room, to the children laughing in their rooms. And then it happens. Something snaps inside her for good.
She can’t go on like this. She can’t keep letting Adrian control her life while she destroys Nerissa in an attempt to protect her.
She can’t keep looking at her children and pretending there’s still honesty in that house.
She can’t keep hurting the man who has loved her so deeply by continuing to lie to him like this.
The decision comes suddenly, brutal and clear.
She’s going to tell Elliot everything. That very night.
The affair. What she has with Nerissa. The blackmail.
The photographs. Everything. Even if the divorce destroys her.
Even if she loses money. Even if the board expels her.
Even if Adrian tries to ruin her. She can no longer bear living in hiding.
She can no longer bear becoming someone Nerissa barely recognizes.
She leans against the counter for a few seconds because her heart is beating too fast. She’s afraid. Terribly afraid. But for the first time in months, she also feels something like relief. The possibility of finally putting an end to the lies.
She lets out a shaky breath and leaves the kitchen. She crosses the hallway slowly. Each step echoes in the stillness of the house as if she were walking toward an inevitable execution. When she reaches the living room, she stops in the doorway and feels that something isn’t right.
The wall clock ticks away the seconds with unbearable clarity.
Elliot is standing by the large window overlooking the garden.
With his back to her.
“Elliot, we need to talk,” Seraphina says.
Then she swallows and feels her pulse pounding in her throat.
“There’s something I have to tell you… I’ve been keeping secrets, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to be honest with you.”
Then Elliot turns around.
And Seraphina feels an immediate chill run down her spine.
Because she sees no anger on his face. No rage. Not even contempt.
Only devastation.
The look of a man who has just watched his entire life crumble before his eyes.
He holds his cell phone in a trembling hand.
The screen partially illuminates his face in the dim light.
Seraphina holds her breath when she recognizes, even from a distance, one of the photos from Chester open on the screen.
Their hands intertwined. The Roman wall.
Nerissa looking at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.
The entire universe seems to stand still around her.
Elliot holds her gaze for a few endless seconds.
And when he speaks, his voice is broken by something far worse than anger.
“You’re late, Seraphina,” he says, utterly devastated. “They’ve already told me.”