Chapter 4

• Serena
• Lucas’s face darkened, his jaw tightening so hard I thought he might crack a tooth.
• This was new to him.
• Me—talking back. Me—not shrinking under the weight of his presence. Me—being done.
• I could almost see the moment it hit him, the flicker of unease in his gaze. The realization that I was no longer the woman who tolerated everything in silence.
• That I had changed.
• Vanessa, always quick to slither into any opening, stepped forward, her voice dripping with false concern.
• “Serena, thank goodness there’s a thirty-day cooling-off period. Otherwise, I’d be scared out of my wits.”
• She glanced at Lucas, then back at me, feigning sympathy.
• “Don’t worry. I’ll hire a caregiver who is discreet and make sure we won’t bother Lucas anymore. As for Caleb, he’s a good kid. What I said earlier was just out of anger. Don’t take it seriously.”
• Lucas stiffened beside her.
• And just like that, understanding dawned on his face.
• No wonder I was so confident. No wonder I had walked in here with my head held high.
• In his mind, this wasn’t me walking away.
• It was me playing a game.
• His initial flash of panic faded, replaced by something cold. Calculated.
• He let out a scoff, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Fine, let’s drag this out. But don’t come crying to me when the cooling-off period ends.”
• I almost laughed at the arrogance of it all.
• God, he really thought I was bluffing.
• “Alright, then,” I said, voice steady, eyes locked onto his. “Whoever regrets this first is a dog.”
• I meant every word.
• If it weren’t for this ridiculous waiting period, I’d already be free.
• I cast one last glance at the trio.
• Caleb flinched as if I might try to snatch him away, quickly stepping behind Vanessa like I was a stranger.
• Like I was the enemy.
• I didn’t react. Not on the outside, at least.
• Without another word, I turned and walked away.
• Behind me, I heard Vanessa murmur, “Lucas, aren’t you going after her?”
• There was a beat of silence before she pressed on, voice gentle. Manipulative.
• “Serena’s just throwing a tantrum. If you say a few nice words, she’ll definitely come back home with you.
• You’re the man here. Just lower your head a little.”
• Lucas let out a cold laugh.
• “Go after her? Ha!”
• His voice carried, sharp and edged with amusement.
• “With her personality, she’ll come crying back within three days.”
• Later – The Hospital
• I didn’t go home after that.
• Home didn’t exist anymore.
• Instead, I buried myself in work, letting the routine drown out the lingering ache in my chest.
• My thesis was nearly done, so I sent it to my director for review.
• Not long after, my phone rang.
• “Serena, come to my office.”
• Elizabeth Grant was an institution in this hospital. In her fifties, with silver hair always pulled back and reading glasses perched on her nose, she had the kind of presence that made even the most arrogant surgeons straighten their spines.
• I walked into her office, closing the door behind me. She didn’t look up right away, flipping through the files
• Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, flipping through my thesis with an approving nod. "This is well done. It aligns perfectly with the aid project I'm working on."
• She let out a small sigh, rubbing her temple. "It’s a pity you have family obligations."
• My heart clenched at her words, but this time, I didn’t let hesitation sink in. "Ms. Grant, are you saying there's an opportunity for an exchange program abroad?"
• Elizabeth lifted her gaze, arching a silver brow at me. "Yes. It’s exactly in your area of research, but the location is in Kenmore. I assumed you’d reject me again since you’ve turned me down at least seven or eight times. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have kept offering."
• I lowered my head slightly, a flicker of embarrassment passing through me. I had refused so many times before, making excuses, rearranging schedules just to rush home. Always choosing them.
• "Ms. Grant, I want to go this time."
• She blinked, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to outright shock. For the first time, I saw a crack in her usual calm demeanor as she placed her glasses down and sat up straighter. "Wait. You’re saying you want to go?"
• I took a slow, steady breath, my pulse hammering. "Yes. I know I’ve let you down before by backing out, but please trust me this time. I won’t disappoint you."
• For a long moment, she just stared at me, as if trying to understand the woman in front of her. The one who, for years, had done nothing but put family first. The one who never let go, never strayed too far, never put herself above the needs of a husband and a son who barely acknowledged the sacrifices made for them.
• I braced myself for the inevitable questions.
• "What about your husband and child?" she asked, her voice careful, measured.
• A bitter smile tugged at my lips. If only she knew.
• Elizabeth had always assumed my family obligations were tied to illness, to weakness. Maybe she thought my husband was incapacitated, my child too fragile to function without me. But that wasn’t it at all.
• Lucas wasn’t a man who needed me. He was a man who owned me. Or at least, he thought he did.
• "They’ll manage," I said, keeping my voice steady.
• Elizabeth frowned slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Serena, if your husband or child is unwell, you don’t have to be ashamed. I can arrange for caregivers to look after them while you focus on your studies."
• Caregivers.
• I nearly laughed at the irony of it. No caregiver in the world could manage the chaos that was Lucas Moretti. No amount of hired help could protect Caleb from the shadows lurking just beneath his father’s polished image.
• I met Elizabeth’s gaze, willing her to see past the surface, to understand what I couldn’t say out loud. "They don’t need me anymore."
• The words felt foreign on my tongue. A lie and a truth all at once.
• Because the truth was, Caleb did need me. He just didn’t know it yet.
• Elizabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line, her sympathy deepening.
• I exhaled, suddenly exhausted. “But I got divorced today.”
• Her brows shot up.
• For a moment, she said nothing, and I half-expected her to offer condolences, to tell me I should reconsider, that marriage is about compromise. But instead, she nodded, her expression shifting into something Strong.
• “Alright, then. Don’t feel pressured. Go home, pack up, and be ready to leave tomorrow. Okay?”
• My heart kicked in my chest. “Absolutely!”
• “Thank you, Ms. Grant,” I said, meaning every word. “I promise to do my best and make you proud.”
• Her smile was warm. “Good. Show them what you’re capable of. Shut up all those naysayers.”
• “Consider it done.”
• For the first time in what felt like years, I smiled—really smiled.
• Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is it just me, or do you seem… different?”
• I just laughed. Because maybe I was.
• The Next Day
• I boarded the plane with nothing but a suitcase and a heart that felt lighter than it had in years.
• The medical aid mission would last two weeks—two weeks away from the shadows of my past, from the suffocating weight of a life that had never truly belonged to me.
• Once seated, I pulled out my tablet, flipping through past case studies. Work was familiar. It was predictable. I would lose myself in it and never look back.
• But an hour into the flight, the intercom crackled to life.
• “There’s an emergency in the business class cabin. If any doctors or nurses are on board, please proceed to business class immediately.”
• I unbuckled my seatbelt, rising to my feet. “I’m a surgeon. I can help.”
• A flight attendant turned toward me, eyes wide with relief. “Please, come this way.”
• As I followed her, I felt the shift before I even saw them.
• Business class wasn’t just another section of the plane—it was a different world entirely. The air felt heavier, thick with something unspoken. The men seated here didn’t just exude wealth. They radiated danger.
• Dark suits. Sharp eyes. Silent tension.
• My instincts screamed at me to be careful.
• A man stood at the outermost edge of the cabin, his stance rigid, his expression lethal. His eyes locked onto me, calculating. Assessing.
• I didn’t linger. Instead, I followed the flight attendant to the innermost section, where a young boy sat, his face red, his hands clutching at his throat.
• My chest tightened. He was choking.
• I dropped to my knees without hesitation.
• “Move,” I ordered.
• The men hesitated.
• I didn’t wait for their permission.
• Laying the boy flat, I worked quickly, producing a small spray from my bag and applying it to his face before pressing firmly against his stomach in a practiced motion.
• The moment felt stretched thin, the tension in the air coiling tighter.
• Then—
• “What the hell are you doing? If you harm him, you’ll pay with your life!”
• The voice was sharp, cutting through the moment like a blade.
• I barely spared the man a glance.
• “Then kill me later,” I said flatly. “Right now, let me save him.”