Chapter 261

Serena's POV

Sitting in Atticus Thorne's car, I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

To be honest, I wasn't nearly as composed as I appeared. No one can truly remain calm when staring down the barrel of a gun. I had just been desperately fighting to contain my fear, to keep my exterior from betraying the trembling within.

I kept telling myself that Atticus was trustworthy. If I had misplaced my trust this time, well, I'd have to accept whatever fate had in store for me.

"I thought you were fearless," Atticus said, his teasing tone barely masking his reproach. "Going to meet Rachel alone? Did you think you were bulletproof or something?"

I turned to look at him. "Would you have stayed away?"

"If I hadn't given you that signal device, you'd be dead in there right now." His voice carried a weight that made my stomach clench.

Thank goodness for his foresight. Thank goodness he knew Rachel's nature so well-her ruthless determination to achieve her goals at any cost.

"Actually..." I confessed, "when I asked you to drive me, it was because I wanted your protection. Otherwise, I could have gone to see Rachel by myself."

Atticus froze for a moment, then his voice changed entirely. "So you're telling me you knew all along how I would react? You knew I would protect you when you went to see Rachel? Serena, you're too clever for your own good. You didn't say a word but predicted my every move. Weren't you afraid that you might not matter enough to me?"

"You always talk about repaying debts," I replied seriously.

"I could have been lying."

"But I won the bet, didn't I?"

He fell silent. We both knew any further argument was pointless.

"Serena, I'm gay. How could you trust me so completely?" Atticus still seemed bewildered.

"That's exactly why I trust you," I said softly. "Because relationships between men and women are the most fragile-they shatter at the slightest touch."

I could see Atticus wanted to say more. He was clearly still unhappy about my reckless behavior today. But something in my calm demeanor seemed to make him hold back his criticism.

I knew what he was thinking. I had indeed been pushed to my absolute limit-otherwise, I would never have risked my life to meet Rachel, never have truly and completely given up on Lucas.

The car pulled up to the private airport. Naturally, Atticus wouldn't be accompanying me-he was feeling unwell, and Portland was his territory. With the Thorne family's internal politics so tense right now, he needed to stay and handle his affairs. Getting me safely to the plane was more than enough.

After a brief goodbye, I boarded Atticus's private jet. A few hours later, I was back in Manhattan.

As soon as I deplaned, I was met by a reception committee. Four men in black suits stood before me, one of them saying respectfully, "Under Mr. Thorne's orders, we're here to escort Miss Sinclair home."

I frowned and called Atticus.

His voice was firm: "Don't think you're safe just because you're back in Manhattan. Let me tell you straight-given the current situation, you're not safe anywhere. That's why I've arranged these four security personnel to protect you 24/7. Don't refuse-I'm too busy to attend your funeral."

I hadn't planned to refuse anyway. I just wanted to say, "Thank you."

Atticus seemed to pause for a couple of seconds. "Just don't die. And build up your business empire-that's the best way to thank me."

"I'll do my best."

After hanging up, I followed the security team Atticus had sent to the waiting car. Looking out at the familiar Manhattan streets, I found myself lost in thought. How had I become entangled in so many complications? How long would it take to finally put all of this behind me?

Nina's POV

I sit in my spacious office at Sinclair Group, scrolling through my phone as news feeds flood with stories about Lucas Harrington and Rachel's upcoming wedding. Just three days until their grand ceremony.

I've called Serena multiple times, but she hasn't picked up once. She's clearly avoiding me. I just wanted to throw her perfect little world in her face, show her how Lucas ultimately chose Rachel over her. What happened to all that dignity she pretends to have?

But honestly, it doesn't matter. I lean back in my chair, taking in the view of Manhattan's skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Finally, I don't have to bow and scrape to anyone anymore. After all these years of playing second fiddle to Serena, I've never felt more satisfied.

The sharp ring of my phone cuts through my thoughts. Rachel Thorne's name flashes across the screen.

"Ms. Thorne," I answer, my voice automatically shifting to a sweetened tone that makes me hate myself a little more.

"There's a private dinner tomorrow evening in Portland. You'll attend." Rachel's cold voice leaves no room for discussion.

"I actually have a business engagement tomorrow that-" I try to explain, but she cuts me off sharply.

"Nina Sinclair, you'd do well to remember your place. You're in no position to negotiate with me." Her words slice through the air like ice.

I grip the phone tighter, saying nothing. My knuckles turn white from the pressure.

"Make sure you look presentable. I shouldn't have to tell you how to handle these things." The line goes dead before I can respond.

I slam the phone down on my desk, trembling with rage and humiliation. Every month, like clockwork, she summons me to these "private dinners" with powerful men. Forces me to do things that make my skin crawl. But I can't refuse - not if I want to maintain this facade of success. Even though each time leaves me retching in my bathroom at home, mascara running down my face as I try to scrub away the evening's memories.

This is all Serena's fault. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have been so desperate to prove myself, wouldn't have made that devil's bargain with Rachel. Now I'm trapped, playing the perfect socialite while dying inside.