Chapter 78

Beatrice's POV

I stood in the stark hospital corridor. The nurses scurried past, avoiding my gaze - as they should. Lawrence followed a few steps behind, his leather shoes making softer sounds against the linoleum.

"Where is Serena's room?" I demanded of a young nurse who had the misfortune of crossing my path. My voice carried the weight of decades of command.

The nurse checked her tablet, her fingers trembling slightly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sinclair, but Miss Serena checked herself out this morning."

"What?" The word escaped my lips like a whip crack. "Without waiting for me?"

My fingers tightened around my designer handbag. How dare she? That ungrateful girl had always been troublesome, but this level of disrespect was unprecedented. I pulled out my phone, my fingers stabbing at the screen.

The call connected after three rings. Before she could speak, I launched my attack. "Still want me to come apologize to you in person? Who do you think you are, Serena? Get back to the Sinclair mansion immediately!"

The call disconnected with a decisive click. She had hung up on me. On me!

"How dare she-" I began, but Lawrence's voice cut through my indignation like a blade.

"Do you have any idea what position you're in?" His voice thundered through the corridor, drawing startled looks from passing hospital staff. "If Serena presses charges, you're looking at felony assault. The only reason you're not in custody right now is because of your medical condition. That doesn't make you innocent, and it sure as hell doesn't give you a free pass to assault people!"

I stared at my son, my hand pressed against my chest. He had never raised his voice to me. Never. "You... you're shouting at me..."

"Mother!" The word carried generations of frustration. "This isn't about respect anymore. This is about consequences. Serena has Lucas Harrington's backing now. Do you understand what that means?"

My legs weakened, and I found myself lowering onto a nearby bench. The synthetic leather felt cool through my silk dress. Around us, people pretended not to stare while watching avidly.

"Lawrence," Angela's smooth voice cut through the tension as she appeared at my side. Her hand rested on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. "Why don't you go get the car? I'll stay with Mother."

After he stormed off, Angela sat beside me, her voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "Mom, think about it this way. Once this blows over, we just need to be more careful. Not give her any ammunition. She's just a girl - she's not really a match for you. When the time comes to settle scores..." She left the thought hanging, rich with possibility.

I patted her hand, feeling the familiar surge of calculation replace the shock and hurt. She was right, of course. This was merely a temporary setback. I hadn't maintained my position at the head of this family for decades by giving up at the first sign of resistance.

Serena's POV

The notification chime dragged me from sleep. I reached for my phone, squinting against the morning light streaming through windows. My coffee machine hummed to life automatically, its familiar sound filling the quiet room.

My irritation at being awakened vanished as I scrolled through the headlines. Vanguard Media's latest coverage showed Ian Whitmore's reputation continuing to crumble, with Whitmore Industries' stock in freefall. The numbers brought a smile to my face - another day of multimillion-dollar losses. The market was ruthless, and for once, that ruthlessness worked in my favor.

I paused on a particularly scathing article, my thumb hovering over the screen. Lucas... my thoughts drifted to yesterday, to that moment when I kissed him. My fingers unconsciously touched my lips, remembering.

Looking back over the past weeks with Lucas, I realized he had taken quite a few liberties. The birthday kiss lingered in my memory, along with those subtle touches - his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through doors, his fingers brushing mine when passing documents, the way he would lean just slightly too close when speaking privately.

What unsettled me most wasn't his boldness - it was my own response. Each "accidental" contact sent a whisper of electricity through my skin. When he stepped close, I found myself holding my breath instead of stepping away. Even now, thinking about it made my heart beat a little faster.

In the bathroom, I caught myself frowning at my reflection as I fixed my hair. The memory of Ian was like a bitter aftertaste I couldn't quite shake. I shook my head, scattering water droplets and unwanted thoughts.

My phone felt heavy in my hand as I pulled up Lucas's contact. The coffee machine beeped its completion, but I ignored it.

"Are you free tonight?" I texted.

His response came quickly: "Yes."

Standing in my kitchen later, surrounded by grocery bags, I debated whether to invite Milo and Stella. Their presence would make things simpler, safer. But as I unpacked fresh herbs and vegetables, I admitted to myself that simple wasn't what I wanted. Not tonight.

I hesitated, then typed: "Come to my place for dinner."

"I'll be there."