Chapter 142

Nina's POV

I watched with carefully concealed satisfaction as Grandma paced back and forth. Her face was flushed with anger, hands gesturing wildly as she continued her tirade about Serena's latest transgression.

"That girl! The absolute nerve of her!" Grandma's voice trembled with indignation. "After everything we've done for her, she dares to speak to me like that?"

I gracefully rose from my position on the sofa, approaching Grandma with perfectly practiced concern etched across my features. "Grandma, please don't work yourself up like this." I placed a gentle hand on her arm, my voice soft and understanding. "You know Serena... she's probably just upset about Lucas's engagement news."

Inside, I savored the bitter truth of those words. Lucas Harrington - the one man I couldn't have. The thought of him still made my heart clench with a mixture of desire and resentment. But if I couldn't have him, at least I had the satisfaction of knowing Serena couldn't either.

Grandma scoffed, her perfectly manicured hand dismissively cutting through the air. "Upset? She should know her place! Thinking she could somehow catch Lucas Harrington's attention - it's delusional! That man is practically Manhattan royalty."

"You're right, of course," I murmured soothingly, even as my inner voice whispered that Serena had already caught more of Lucas's attention than I'd ever managed. "She's probably just processing the news poorly. You know how emotional she can be."

The sound of my father's footsteps drew our attention to the doorway. He entered the room, his expression troubled as he loosened his tie. "Nina, sweetheart, do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Daddy." I moved toward him, noting the tension in his shoulders.

He waited until Grandma had huffed her way out of the room before speaking. "The Whitmore situation is worse than we thought. They're asking for another investment round."

I carefully controlled my expression, but my mind was already racing with possibilities. "Ian mentioned something about temporary cash flow issues, but I didn't realize it was this serious."

"Temporary?" Father's laugh was harsh. "They're hemorrhaging money. The board is pushing for an emergency meeting tomorrow." He ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "If we don't step in, it could get messy. The press would have a field day with this - both our families' reputations could take a hit."

I settled onto the arm of his favorite chair, my voice thoughtful. "What if... what if there was a way to distance ourselves from the situation naturally?"

"Nina..." His tone carried a warning.

"What if I create a situation where Ian has to break up with me?" I let vulnerability seep into my voice, knowing exactly how to play this moment. "It would give us a clean break from any obligation to help."

Father straightened, concern crossing his features. "A break-up? But Ian would never - not with their situation. He knows they need our support now more than ever."

"Trust me, Daddy." I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I know exactly what I'm doing. Our family won't be affected at all." My lips curved into a soft smile, even as contempt for Ian's weakness curled in my stomach. "Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good of the family."

I watched understanding dawn in his eyes, followed quickly by pride and gratitude. He pulled me into a tight embrace. "My clever girl. Always thinking of the family first." He pulled back, his expression serious. "You know, even if StarRiver Group is out of reach, you'll always have a place in Sinclair Corp. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you, Dad." I buried my face against his shoulder to hide my triumphant smile. Pathetic Ian. He actually believed I cared about him, that I'd stand by him through his family's crisis.

Ian would be easy enough to manipulate into ending things - his pride had always been his weakness. And once that was done, perhaps it was time to turn my attention back to more interesting pursuits. After all, engagement wasn't marriage.

Serena's POV

Milo was deeply engrossed in his new space shuttle model. His small fingers carefully attached each piece while muttering technical terms he'd picked up from somewhere. Across from him, Stella sat at the dining table, her colored pencils spread out in a precise rainbow arrangement as she worked on her drawing.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, savoring this peaceful moment. The twins had been staying with me for the weekend. My phone buzzed with a message, breaking the comfortable silence.

Rachel: "I'll pick up Milo today. Might as well take Stella too."

The carefully casual tone of her text made something twist in my stomach. I glanced at the refrigerator where Stella's latest "the picnic" hung.

"Of course. What time? The kids are in the middle of their projects," I replied, deliberately using the plural.

"Be there in an hour."

I put my phone down and watched the twins for a moment longer. Milo's face scrunched in concentration as he consulted his instruction manual. "The auxiliary boosters need to be aligned perfectly," he announced to no one in particular.

Stella's colored pencil moved in precise strokes across her paper. She'd inherited Lucas's perfectionist streak, each color chosen with careful deliberation.

"Milo, Stella," I said softly, "Your godmother Rachel is coming to pick you up in an hour."

Milo looked up from his model, disappointment clear on his face. "But I haven't finished the propulsion system yet!"

Stella's hand paused mid-stroke, her pencil hovering above the paper. She didn't look up immediately, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders.

"You can bring it back next weekend to finish," I assured them, keeping my voice light. "We'll have plenty of time then."

Stella finally raised her head meeting mine. Something flickered in them that made my heart ache.

"Of course," she said quietly, beginning to gather her art supplies with methodical precision. Each pencil went back into its designated slot in her case, ordered by color.

Milo rushed to pack his model, pieces clattering as he tried to fit everything into the box. "Can we work on the landing gear next time?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely," I promised, helping him collect scattered parts from under the coffee table. "We can look up some real NASA designs too."

As I straightened up, I noticed Stella standing by the dining table, her art case clutched to her chest. She glanced at the unfinished drawing she'd been working on, then back at me. With quick, decisive movements, she folded the paper and held it out.

"Here," she said softly. "I'll finish it when I come back."

I took the paper, careful not to crease it further. "I'll keep it safe until then."

The doorbell rang precisely an hour after Rachel's text. Stella's hand found mine as we walked to the door.

Rachel stood in the hallway, immaculately dressed as always. Her smile was picture-perfect as she bent down to the twins' level. "There are my favorite people! Stella, honey, I love what you've done with your hair today."

Stella shifted slightly closer to me, her grip tightening. She managed a polite slime. "Thank you, Rachel."

"Milo, sweetheart, did you have fun with your model?" Rachel reached out to ruffle his hair. Her attention swung back to Stella with almost theatrical enthusiasm. "And I heard you've been drawing! You'll have to show me your art sometime."

I felt Stella's subtle flinch. "Maybe next time," she murmured.

As the twins gathered their things, Rachel turned to me with that same perfect smile. "They're such darlings, aren't they? So like their father." Her voice dropped slightly. "You know, things between Lucas and me... they're not what you might think."

I met her gaze steadily, saying nothing.

Stella appeared at my side, art case secured across her shoulder. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around my waist in a tight hug.

"Bye, Mommy," she whispered against my shirt. "Don't lose my drawing, okay?"

"Never," I promised, returning her hug. Over her head, I caught Rachel's carefully masked flash of annoyance.

I stood in the doorway watching them leave, Milo chattering about his model while Stella walked in silence. Just before they turned the corner, Stella looked back.

Back inside my apartment, I carefully unfolded her drawing and pinned it next to the picnic on the refrigerator.