Chapter 3
It was her mentor’s final masterpiece–Morning Fog Over Catskill Ridge.
The brushstrokes were unmistakable, immediately calling to mind the image of his trembling hand in those final days. In her memories, he always appeared gentle, patting her head with a fond smile.
“Serena, my dear,” he once said, “this painting is my life’s work…”
Now, with him gone and his widow drowning in grief, Serena knew–it she could win this painting, it would bring the woman some measure of peace.
“Five million,” she called out, raising her bidding paddle without hesitation.
“Julian…” Evangeline Hart–Evie to those closest to her–tugged at Julian Blackwell’s sleeve, her voice light and dreamy. “That painting’s beautiful.”
Julian raised his paddle without a second thought. Ten million.”
Serena’s jaw tightened. “Twenty.”
“Thirty.”
The numbers climbed fast. Tension thickened as the room fell into silence. From the corner of her eye, Serena noticed Miles Carrington, Grayson Hale, and Declan Price all lowering their paddles. Their attention was fixed on Evie, whose wide, wistful gaze never left the
canvas.
How ironic.
Just ten minutes earlier, they had vowed-“Whatever Serena wants, we’ll get it for her.”
Serena’s nails dug into her palm. She raised her paddle again. “Fifty million.”
Julian’s voice cut through the hush: “Eighty.”
She didn’t flinch. “One hundred.”
And just like that–Julian dropped the hammer.
He stood to pay, his long strides cutting across the red carpet with cool detachment. He didn’t so much as glance in Serena’s direction. Her face had gone pale.
“Don’t be upset,” Miles said quickly, trying to soothe her. “If you really love that painting, I’ll head backstage right now and see if there’s anything similat. I’ll buy it for you.”
“I’m coming too!” Grayson offered eagerly.
“Count me in,” Declan added.
The three men rushed off without another word. Their retreating silhouettes blurred in Serena’s vision. She took a deep breath, forced the bitterness down, and strode toward Evie–who now stood like the belle of the ball, basking in the glow of adoration.
“Name your price,” Serena said, her voice low and dangerously calm. “Elve times, ten times, twenty times what you paid–I don’t
Evie gave a light, almost musical laugh. A flicker of triumph danced in her eyes.
“Well, well. The great Serena Whitmore, begging?”
She tilted her head with practiced Innocence, fluttering her lashes.
“Money doesn’t solve everything I’m not ready to part with it just yet. But if you’re willing to stand here and admit, in front of everyone, that you’ve lost? That you’re begging me?
Maybe I’ll consider it.”
Serena’s breath hitched.
That face- so sweet and helpless around men, yet unbearably smug in front of her. Just like in the last life.
She never understood how the four of them had fallen for someone like this.
Her fists clenched. “I told you money’s not the issue.”
Evie’s smile widened, syrupy and cruel. “But I want to see you grovel. I want to see you admit you’re beneath me. Otherwise
Serena’s eyes flicked to the painting now carelessly cradled in Evie’s hands.
It was her mentor’s final gift to the world. A token of longing for the widow left behind. She could still picture the old woman’s tear–streaked face. The ache twisted deep.
She shut her eyes, Just for a moment.
“Fine,” she whispered, the word dropping like a stone..
She stepped forward, bowed her head in front of the watching crowd, and forced the words through clenched teeth:
“I’m begging you Sell me the painting.”
The room went deathly quiet.
Cold, pitying stares cut into her like blades. But none of it hurt as much as the icy void inside her chest.
Straightening, she met Evie’s gaze with a voice as steady and cold as frost.
“Now, will you give it to me?”
Evie’s lips curled. It wasn’t a smile–it was a threat.
Then, in full view of the crowd, she gripped the frame with both hands-
Riiip!
The sound of tearing canvas tore through the stillness like a scream.
Serena’s fury ignited. Her hand flew out–a sharp slap cracked across Evie’s face.
“Serena!”
Julian’s voice boomed like thunder, “What the hell are you doing?!”
“Julian…” Evie whimpered, clutching her cheek as tears spilled down her face, heartbreakingly perfect. “Don’t blame Serena… It’s all my fault. I never should’ve come to the auction with you….
Her slender fingers clutched at his sleeve. Her voice trembled, just enough to sound fragile.
“Serena likes you… Seeing you buy things for me must’ve hurt her.”
“I know I make things complicated for everyone…”
Then, suddenly, she pushed Julian away and stumbled back.
“Maybe I should just disappear… for good!”
And before anyone could stop her, she spun around and sprinted–straight toward the floor–to–ceiling window.
“Evie!”
Chapter 3
Julian’s voice cracked the air like a whip-
But it was too late.
Crash!
Glass shattered.
A sickening thud followed.
The sound echoed in Serena’s skull.
She rushed to the window
Evie lay below, her body crumpled, blood blooming beneath her like dark petals.
And yet… her lips curled into a victorious smile.
Julian lost it.
His eyes blazed crimson as he scooped Evie into his arms. His voice cracked with fury.
“Someone grab Serena! Take her to the hospital!”
His glare landed on Serena vicious, cold, like he meant to tear her apart
“You better pray she survives. Or I swear—I’ll make you pay with your life.”
In the sterile corridor of Mercy General, time stood still.
A doctor burst out of the ER. “The patient’s hemorrhaging! She needs a transfusion immediately–she’s AB negative, and we’re out of supply!”
Julian turned, eyes razor–sharp as they locked on Serena.
“You’re AB negative too.”
“No.”
Evie’s weak voice floated from the bed. “It’s all my fault. Serena’s anemic… she can’t donate blood…”
Julian’s face softened for Evie as he held her hand gently.
“Even now, you’re worried about her?”
His voice lowered, coaxing, like comforting a child.
Then he turned to Serena,
And his eyes froze over.
“Strap her down.”
“Julian Blackwell, don’t you dare!”
“Watch me.
Guards seized Seren, slamming her onto the operating table. The cold metal bit into her spine.
She thrashed, legs kicking over a tray. Surgical Instruments crashed to the floor.
“Hold her down!” Julian barked.
Three or four guards pinned her limbs. Her hair tangled around her face, her dress torn at the shoulder.
“Julian!” she screamed, her voice raw and cracking. “You’ll regret this”
“The only one who’ll regret it is you.”
He sneered, then plunged the needle into her arm himself.
Blood filled the tube. Serena’s vision swam.
In the haze, she was back on that rain–soaked street from her past life-
Headlights. Screeching tires.
And across the road–Julian, Miles, Grayson, and Declan, standing cold and silent.
Only Wesley Hawthorne her lifelong rival–had run to her through the storm, his hands trembling as he held her shattered body..
“Wesley.”
Her tears mixed with blood, blooming like scarlet flowers on the table.
“When are you coming back… I miss you…”
Heri
er voice faded into the cold, sterile air.
ני
