Chapter 2

Serena's POV:

A click, and the foyer light flooded the downstairs.

I was standing at the top of the stairs, and there they were below me—the three of them, a perfect picture of a happy family. I was the dark, extraneous smudge just outside the frame.

Xavier's eyes found me. His brow furrowed instantly. "Serena? What are you doing standing there in the dark? Who are you trying to scare?"

His tone wasn't concerned. It was accusatory. In my own home, on the night he forgot our anniversary, I was the one being scolded.

Savannah rushed forward, her face a mask of perfect apology. "Sister, I'm so sorry, we're back so late. Are you angry? I didn't know today was..." She let her words trail off—a masterful performance of a slip of the tongue.

Mia peeked out from behind Xavier's legs. There was no guilt in her eyes, only a flicker of annoyance, as if I were a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

I looked at the three of them, at the way Xavier instinctively shielded Savannah and Mia, and a chill crawled up my spine.

It was laughable. I didn't say a word. I just pulled the corners of my mouth into a smile that felt more like a grimace, turned my back, and walked into the study.

"What kind of attitude is that, Serena!" Xavier's voice, sharp with irritation, followed me.

I ignored him and locked the study door. The click of the bolt was the most satisfying sound I had heard all night.

Through the thick wood, Mia's voice rose in a wail:

"Daddy, Mommy is scary... I don't want her! I want Auntie to be my mom!"

"I wish Auntie was my mom!"

The words were a poisoned dagger. They found my heart, twisted, and then broke off, leaving the blade inside.

I leaned against the door, my body sliding down until I was sitting on the cold floor. The tears finally came, hot and silent.

Sitting there in the dark, the last five years played out in my mind whether I wanted them to or not.

Xavier's promises at the altar. My decision to give up my career for our family. The endless days of waiting, of being an afterthought.

My first pregnancy, so sick I could barely stand, while Xavier snapped into the phone, "Serena, be reasonable. Savannah needs me right now. She's having a crisis with her final university project."

Mia's first birthday. I had a raging fever and still managed to decorate the entire house. Xavier returned from a European vacation with Savannah, and his gift to me was a silk scarf his sister had picked out.

Again and again, I had made excuses for him. He just cares deeply for his family. I had convinced myself to stay. Mia needs a complete home.

Tonight, I finally understood. I was never part of his "family." I was just a convenient, disposable part of the scenery.

After the tears stopped, I wiped my face, stood up, and walked back to the desk. The study hadn't changed in five years—dust, old paper, leather. Neither had I.

Until tonight.

I switched on the desk lamp. In its soft, focused glow, I pulled a single, clean sheet of A4 paper and a fountain pen from the deepest drawer.

I took a deep breath. At the top of the page, I wrote three words, my hand steady, my heart a quiet, frozen lake:

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

In that moment, I drew a final, irrevocable line under the five years of my own foolishness.

But before I wrote a single clause, my hand moved on its own—down to the bottom drawer of the desk. The one I hadn't touched in five years.

Inside, nestled in dark blue velvet, lay a set of surgical scalpels.

The last thing the great Harrington family would ever expect to find in their useless housewife's hands.