Chapter 299

Serena's POV

A deafening sound tore through the night. The sound wave hit me with such force I staggered backward. For one surreal moment, it seemed as though a small sun had suddenly risen from the ocean. The yacht erupted into a massive fireball, flames reaching toward the sky, illuminating the churning waves with an orange glow that seemed to mock my horror.

"NO!" The scream ripped from my throat, primal and raw.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This couldn't be real. Lucas couldn't be gone. Not like this.

Without hesitation, without thought, I lunged toward the water. If there was even the slightest chance he had been thrown from the yacht, if he was somehow still alive in those dark waters, I had to reach him. Logic and reason abandoned me completely-all that remained was desperate hope.

"Ms. Sinclair, stop!" Strong hands grabbed me from behind, yanking me back from the edge. I thrashed wildly against my bodyguard's grip.

"Let me go!" I commanded, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

"Ms. Sinclair, please. The water's too rough and it's pitch black. You'll only put yourself in danger," he reasoned, his grip unyielding.

"I don't care!" I screamed, clawing at his arms. "Let go of me!"

His voice became firmer. "Mr. Harrington specifically instructed us that in any dangerous situation, your safety comes first. Always."

I fought harder, my body trembling with adrenaline and grief. "I have to save Lucas! I have to try!"

The bodyguard's next words hit me like a physical blow. "Ms. Sinclair... with an explosion that size, there's no way Mr. Harrington could have survived."

"You're wrong!" I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "He's not dead! He can't be!"

But even as I protested, I watched the yacht burning, the flames consuming everything. The reality of what I was witnessing began to sink into my consciousness like poison. I had seen the size of that explosion. I knew what it meant.

"Ms. Sinclair," the bodyguard's voice softened slightly. "Milo and Stella are waiting for you."

Milo.

The mention of their name pierced through my hysteria. Our kids, in all the ways that mattered. The children who were probably sitting up in bed right now, waiting for me to come back.

My struggling ceased as a new, terrible reality dawned on me. They had just lost his father. And if I threw myself into the ocean in a futile rescue attempt, they would lose me too.

"They're waiting for you," the bodyguard repeated, sensing my hesitation.

I stared at the burning wreckage, tears blurring my vision. The flames were growing smaller now as the yacht sank beneath the waves. I thought of Lucas's last words to me before he'd been taken: "Promise me you'll live, Serena. No matter what happens."

He had known. Somehow, he had anticipated this outcome. That's why he'd made me promise to live.

The responsibility of that promise weighed on me now, anchoring me to the pier when every fiber of my being wanted to dive into those dark waters.

I watched as the last of the flames died out, leaving nothing but darkness where the yacht had been. It felt as though the fire had consumed my heart as well, leaving nothing but an empty, aching void. How was I supposed to go on? How could I face each morning knowing Lucas was gone? How would I explain to Milo and Stella that their father would never come home?

"Ms. Sinclair," the bodyguard prompted again, "we should go back now. Your children needs you."

I wiped the tears from my face with trembling hands. Yes, They needed me. And I needed them-needed something to live for in this sudden, terrible emptiness.

I took one last look at the dark ocean that had become Lucas's grave. The waves continued their relentless rhythm, indifferent to the tragedy they had just witnessed. The night wind whipped around me, carrying the scent of smoke and salt.

"Goodbye, Lucas," I whispered into the darkness. "I'll keep my promise. I'll take care of kids. I'll live... somehow."

I turned away from the water, my body feeling impossibly heavy, as if gravity had suddenly increased. Each step felt like daggers piercing through the soles of my feet, but I forced myself to keep moving.

As I walked toward the waiting car, I didn't look back. I couldn't bear to see that empty horizon again.

The night air was cold against my tear-stained face. The breeze carried the scent of salt and despair.

After 50 minutes of driving, I spotted Milo's small silhouette, standing perfectly still under the moonlight. He hadn't cried. He'd just... waited.

"What if I had done it?" The terrible thought crashed through my mind like a violent wave. "What if I had followed Lucas into those depths? What would have happened to Milo and Stella then?"

Guilt and grief collided within me with such force that I felt physically ill. My vision darkened around the edges, and for a moment, I feared I might collapse into the abyss that had opened inside my heart.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the sharp pain anchoring me to reality. "I still have Milo and Stella," I reminded myself fiercely. "I am not alone. I cannot fall apart."

I forced my leaden feet forward until I reached Milo, then crouched down to meet his eyes. The child had been holding back tears, trying to be brave.

"Milo," I said, my voice cracking as I struggled to form the words. "Daddy... won't be coming back anymore."

He nodded solemnly, his small hand reaching up to touch my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn't even realized were falling.

"It's okay, Mommy," he whispered, his voice so small yet somehow so strong. "I'll take care of you now, just like Daddy did."

Something inside me shattered completely at those words. This child was trying to comfort me. I pulled him into my arms with such force that he let out a small gasp, but then his tiny arms wrapped around my neck, holding me just as tightly.

"I love you so much," I kissed his forehead. "You and Stella are my everything now."

Dawn was breaking over the skyline when Milo and I finally returned home. The soft golden light did nothing to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones. I felt hollow, emptied of everything except the raw, throbbing pain of loss.

I pushed open the door to find Drew and Spencer slumped on the couch in the living room. They had waited all night, their faces lined with worry even in sleep. Stella was curled up on her bed, a blanket tucked around her small form.

At the sound of our entrance, both men jolted awake. Drew's eyes widened with desperate hope.

"Lucas!" he called out, jumping to his feet.

When he saw only Milo and me standing in the entryway, the hope in his eyes died, replaced by a dawning horror. Spencer rushed over to Milo, scooping him up.

"Are you okay, buddy?" he asked gently. Milo simply shook his head, his small face a mask of quiet grief.

"Where's Lucas?" Drew asked, his voice trembling. "Serena, where is he?"