Chapter 3 WHAT SARA WANTS

SARA'S POINT OF VIEW

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers started to hurt.

I did not loosen my hold. Not once.

The whole drive home felt too long. Every second dragged. My head would not stop replaying it. Her voice. That calm voice that did not need to rise. The way she walked in and everything shifted. The way Ethan stopped being certain the moment she looked at him.

And the worst part.

The way she took Luna's hand.

Like Luna mattered. Like she was something soft and worth protecting.

My chest tightened.

I pressed harder on the wheel.

By the time I got home, my hands were shaking. Not small tremors. Full shaking. The kind that makes it hard to breathe properly.

I pushed my bedroom door open and stepped inside.

The door slammed behind me.

I did not stop. I did not think.

My eyes landed on the perfume bottle sitting on the vanity. The one he had given me three years ago. The one I kept even when I told myself I had moved on.

I grabbed it and threw it.

Hard.

It hit the wall and shattered. Glass broke everywhere. The smell filled the room almost instantly. Sweet. Thick. Familiar.

My stomach turned.

That scent used to mean something. It used to belong to us.

Back when Ethan looked at me like I was enough. Like I was the only person in the room that mattered.

I let out a sharp breath, but it did nothing to calm me.

I swept everything off the vanity with my arm. Bottles. Makeup. A small tray. Everything crashed to the floor in one loud, ugly sound.

Still not enough.

Nothing felt like enough.

My eyes fell on the photograph by the bed.

I picked it up.

The charity gala. Eighteen months ago. The first time we were in the same place again after everything. After London. After I left.

I remembered that night too clearly.

The crowd. The noise. The lights.

And him.

Standing across the room.

Looking at me.

Not once. Not by accident.

He had looked at me for too long. Just a few seconds. But it was enough. It was everything. It was the moment I knew nothing was over.

I kept that photo because of that look.

I threw it.

It hit the wall and dropped. The glass cracked straight across his face.

I stared at it. Breathing hard. My chest rising and falling too fast.

Everything had been right there.

Right in front of me.

He had already decided. He had those papers ready. He was going to end it. Finally. After two years of that forced marriage.

Two years of her in my place.

And then she walked in.

Luna.

Standing there like she had any right to still be shocked. Like she had not built her whole life on something that was never hers to begin with.

And then Rose came in.

Everything stopped.

Everything changed.

Just like that.

A soft knock hit the door. Three times.

I froze for a second.

I knew that knock.

"Sara."

My mother's voice. Calm. Steady. Watching even when she was not in the room yet.

"I heard that. Open the door."

I pressed my fingers hard against my eyes. My head hurt. My chest felt tight.

I walked to the door and opened it.

She stepped inside without waiting. Her eyes moved across the room slowly. The broken glass. The spilled perfume. The mess I had made.

Then she looked at me.

She did not react. Not to the mess. Not to my face.

She just closed the door behind her and walked in.

That was how she had always been.

Not soft. Not loud. Not emotional.

Controlled. Always thinking. Always watching.

She sat on the bed like nothing around her mattered. Crossed her ankles. Looked at me.

"Tell me," she said.

I sat beside her. My hands were still shaking. I pressed them down on my thighs to hide it.

I told her everything.

Every word.

The papers. Ethan's decision. Luna walking in. The way everything was about to end.

Then Rose.

Her voice. Her control. The way she shut everything down like it meant nothing.

I told her exactly what she said. I did not miss a single word.

When I finished, the room went quiet.

My mother did not speak immediately. She looked down at the broken photograph on the floor. Ethan's face split in two.

Then she looked back at me.

"Rose," she said.

I let out a breath that felt bitter. "Rose."

Saying her name made something in my chest tighten again.

"She was never going to step aside," my mother said calmly. "I told you that. That woman has controlled that family for years. She is not going to let go because you want her to."

I clenched my jaw.

"I was right there," I said quietly. "He was choosing me."

"He still wants you," she replied.

I looked at her quickly.

"He signed those papers," she continued. "That does not change because she walked into a room."

My breathing slowed slightly. Not calm. Just more controlled.

"But she will keep interfering," I said. "She will keep pushing him back toward Luna."

"Yes," my mother said simply. "So we remove her."

I stared at her.

"How?"

"She is old," she said. "She does not live with him. She only has influence when she is present. We take that away."

I did not speak. I just listened.

"We control the people around him. We guide him. We make sure every step he takes leads back to you." She paused. "And her voice will slowly stop mattering."

I thought about the way Rose looked at me.

Not angry. Not emotional.

Certain.

Like she had already judged me a long time ago.

She never wanted me for him. Not even back then.

Even when we were engaged.

Even when everything was supposed to be mine.

She was polite. Careful. But I always felt it.

That distance.

That quiet rejection.

She thought I was not enough.

I swallowed.

"He will choose me," I said again. My voice was steadier now. Stronger. "He already did."

"Yes," my mother said. "But he also carries guilt."

I frowned slightly.

"For the company. For the marriage. For the two years Luna spent fixing things."

I looked away.

"Rose will use that," she continued. "She will keep reminding him. We need to take that away."

"How?"

"We give him something stronger," she said.

I looked down at the broken photograph.

"Luna is not weak," I said slowly. "She did not break today."

"No," my mother agreed. Her voice turned colder. "She will not break easily."

She leaned slightly forward.

"That is how she was raised."

I looked at her.

"Her mother was the same," she continued. "A woman who married a man who did not love her. Stayed anyway. Smiled anyway."

The words settled in the room.

"Her mother was a placeholder," she said quietly.

Something inside me shifted.

Cold. Clear.

"And Luna is the same."

I felt it then. Not anger. Not pain. Something sharper.

Understanding.

"She stepped into what was mine," I said softly.

"Yes."

"She stayed in a place that was never hers."

"Yes."

"And now she thinks she belongs there."

My mother looked at me directly.

"Placeholders do not stay, Sara."

My chest rose slowly.

"They hold the place," she continued. "Until the real thing returns."

Silence filled the room.

I looked at the broken glass. The spilled perfume. The cracked image of Ethan.

Then I looked at her.

"Ethan belongs with me," I said.

"He does," she answered.

"And Luna will leave."

"Yes."

"And Rose..." I paused. My eyes narrowed slightly. "...will not be able to stop it."

My mother picked up the broken photograph and placed it carefully on the bed between us.

"Then we move quickly," she said. "We move smart. And we do not stop."

I stared at Ethan's face through the cracked glass.

Then I looked at her.

She looked back at me.

And slowly, at the same time, we both smiled.