Chapter 5

I forced myself to peek through the floral arrangement again.

Serena was now holding the baby, rocking him gently.

She looked up at Michael, her expression a carefully crafted mask of vulnerability and adoration.

"Michael, darling," she murmured, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "What will we do if Olivia makes a scene? I couldn't bear it. Not now, not with little... Michael Junior."

Michael Junior. The name was another twist of the knife.

Michael put an arm around Serena, pulling her close.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about Olivia," he said, his voice soothing, protective. "I'll take care of her. She's just overwrought. She'll understand. She has to."

His associates, Richard and a few others from his startup, nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting a mixture of pity for Serena and disapproval for me, the unseen, irrational wife.

They were enabling him, validating his narrative.

Serena leaned into him, a picture of fragile reliance.

But I saw the flicker of triumph in her eyes as she glanced around, ensuring her performance was witnessed.

She was good. Very good.

The disgust I felt was a cold, hard knot in my stomach.

My anger was a quiet, simmering fire.

This wasn't just about Michael's betrayal anymore. It was about Serena's deliberate, malicious destruction of my life.

And Michael, in his arrogance and self-deception, was her willing accomplice.

I watched them, this charade of a perfect family, built on lies and my pain.

A quiet determination settled over me.

I would not be "handled." I would not "understand."

I would end this.

My hand instinctively covered my belly. For my child. For myself.

This performance had to stop. And I would be the one to bring down the curtain.