Rather than getting kicked out in the end, I might as well leave sensibly.
Adrian didn't speak. The warmth in his eyes simply froze over.
Then he laughed—a soft, humorless sound.
"Serena Jenner. This is the birthday gift you're giving me?"
I saw the storm brewing in his gaze. My body shrank back instinctively, but I forced myself to continue. "You promised me. You said if I ever felt uncomfortable, if I wanted to end things, I could walk away anytime."
"I'm walking away."
A long silence. Adrian lit a cigarette, and a suffocating pressure filled the room.
His tone stayed casual, almost bored: "Sure, you can walk away."
"But your mother's care—can that walk away too?"
I stared at him, like I was truly seeing him for the first time.
After I got together with Adrian, the nearly one million in expenses for Mom at the nursing home all came out of his account. The best specialists, top-of-the-line equipment—he arranged everything.
So in his eyes, I'd forfeited the right to leave long ago.
The quiet threat he was making now? It was no different from grinding my dignity into dust beneath his heel.
But my reaction seemed to satisfy him.
He flicked the ash, his voice dripping with indulgence. "Serena, don't be stupid. Stay by my side, and your mother gets the best treatment. You keep the life you have now. Some things—make a scene of them, and nobody wins."
He stubbed out the cigarette, turned, and left the villa.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
On impulse, I opened social media, looking for something—anything—that would make me give up for good.
Like fate was mocking me, Victoria's latest post appeared first.
The photo showed an indoor winter wonderland. She was dressed for some gala event, elegant as a swan princess.
The caption was simple: "Merry Christmas, my exclusive magic."
Posted three minutes ago.
Who else would spare no expense to create an indoor snowfall in the most expensive district in the city, just to make her smile?
What I had, she had too.
The snow that once moved me to tears became a slap in the face.
The next morning, I came downstairs with swollen eyes—and stopped cold.
The living room was piled high with gift boxes.
An assistant stepped forward, clearly having waited for some time. "Mrs. James, good morning. Mr. James had these delivered. Please have a look."
Mrs. James.
The words pricked like a needle.
I stood frozen, staring at the expensive gifts, my thoughts spiraling.
"Mrs. James? There must be some mistake."
But the assistant only smiled politely. "That's what Mr. James calls you. He also said he'll personally pick you up for the weekend family dinner."
My fingertips trembled.
My heart—the one I thought had gone cold and dead—rippled pathetically back to life.
This small gesture blurred everything again, like we'd rewound to better days.
He took me to an auction, high-profile, no attempt to hide me. Victoria was there too.
She clearly wanted the first item—a brooch—badly. Her paddle kept rising, bid after bid.
That brooch was something I'd had my eye on too.
While I hesitated over whether to raise my paddle, Adrian signaled directly for the top bid—buying it at an overwhelming price.
The room erupted in murmurs.
Victoria's hand froze midair, her face draining of color as she stared at Adrian in disbelief.
But he acted like she didn't exist. When the item was brought over, he handed it to me casually.
"It suits you."
I gripped the box. My chest burned, and something wild and hopeful surged up inside me.
At that moment, I thought: maybe I really could hope for a real place in his life.
Maybe I could finally tell him the truth—that a little life was already growing inside me.
