CHAPTER EIGHT - The Man She Left Behind
2057 Words
The moment the word fiancé left Serena’s lips, the world exploded.
Camera flashes erupted like lightning. Microphones lunged forward. Questions collided in the air until none of them were distinguishable.
“Miss Carter, is that true?”
“Mr. Blackwood, were you aware she was engaged?”
“Are you stealing another man’s fiancée?”
“Who is Shakira?”
“Is Serena Carter even your real name?”
The crowd surged forward.
James stepped between them instantly, one arm outstretched. “Back up.”
Morris moved to the other side of the car, creating a narrow path to the open passenger door.
The reporters kept pushing.
And Ricardo kept coming.
He looked nothing like the polished man Serena remembered. His white shirt was wrinkled, the sleeves rolled unevenly to his elbows. A thick beard shadowed his jaw, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look older than twenty-eight.
Older than the last time she had seen him.
“Shakira,” he said again, his voice breaking on the second syllable.
Serena’s chest tightened so painfully she could barely breathe. “Ricardo…”
He stopped only a few feet away. “I’ve been looking for you.”
His eyes searched her face desperately, as though he believed that if he looked long enough, he would find the woman he had lost.
“This isn’t the time,” Serena whispered. “Or the place.”
“You disappeared.”
“I know.”
“You changed your number.”
“I know.”
“You left without a trace.”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I know, Ricardo.”
Her voice trembled. “But you need to leave.”
“Just tell me why.”
The reporters sensed blood in the water. One of them shouted, “Did she leave you for the billionaire?” Another yelled, “Were you abandoned at the altar?”
Ricardo flinched.
James shoved another photographer back. “I said back up.”
Damien remained silent. His expression betrayed nothing, but his attention wasn’t on Ricardo.
It was on Serena.
He was watching the way her fingers trembled, the way she couldn’t seem to look directly at the other man, the way every answer she gave was only two or three words long.
Ricardo took another step forward. “I called every hospital.”
Serena’s breath caught.
“I called your friends. I went to your mother’s house. I thought something terrible had happened to you. I cried every night, begging the heavens for help finding you.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. “Ricardo…”
“No.” He shook his head, voice cracking. “Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like I’m a stranger.”
A photographer nearly tripped trying to get closer. The flashes became blinding.
Damien cleared his throat. “Serena.”
She looked at him instinctively.
“Get in the car.”
The calm authority in his voice cut through the chaos, but her feet refused to move.
Ricardo turned sharply toward Damien. “Step away from her!”
His eyes blazed. “She’s my fiancée. What kind of shameless man goes after another man’s fiancée?”
Serena stepped forward quickly. “Ricardo, stop.”
“She’s not one of those spoiled women out in the streets chasing money. She’s my woman!”
“Ricardo!”
“My doux doux!”
The crowd gasped.
Serena’s heart pounded wildly.
“That was years ago,” she said, her voice shaking. “Years ago, Ricardo. You need to move on.”
He stared at her as though she had struck him. Then, to her horror, his eyes filled with tears.
“It was my fault.”
“No—stop.”
“If I had gotten to the courthouse five minutes earlier…” His voice broke completely. “…I could have convinced you.”
The memories crashed into her all at once. The courthouse hallway. The bouquet that made her sneeze. The papers waiting to be signed. The unbearable emptiness inside her chest.
She swallowed hard. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”
He blinked. “What?”
“My mind was already made up, Ricardo.” She forced the words out. “Nothing you said could have changed anything.”
For one terrible second she thought he might finally let her go. She could see the hurt in his eyes.
Instead he whispered, “You’re lying, aren’t you? You’re lying because you think you deserve to be sad and lonely forever. But that’s not true.”
She turned away from him and took a step toward the car. “Goodbye, Ricardo.”
“You deserve the world, Shakira!”
His voice shook. “You deserve to be loved. To have someone who would never leave you.”
He sniffed hard, fighting tears. “I was never going to leave you, Shakira.”
She spun around, tears streaming freely now.
“I said leave!”
Her voice broke.
“Please…”
“Just go.”
He didn’t. Instead, he reached toward her.
Damien stepped between them.
It happened so naturally that Serena barely registered it until Ricardo’s hand stopped inches from Damien’s shoulder.
“She asked you to leave,” Damien said evenly. “You should respect that.”
Ricardo looked him up and down. “You’re really going to marry someone else’s fiancée?”
Damien didn’t answer.
“You’re Damien Blackwood, aren’t you? You could have a thousand women. You could have it all.”
A pause.
“Why her? Why the one person who matters to me in this world?”
Damien’s expression remained calm.
Ricardo laughed bitterly. “Hell, do you even know who she really is?”
For the first time since the confrontation began, Damien looked directly at Serena. Their eyes met.
Then he said quietly, “Apparently not.”
Fresh humiliation washed over her. She turned her face away.
Ricardo shook his head slowly. “The Shakira I knew never cared about money. She never cared about influence. She never cared about powerful men.”
His voice softened. “She only cared about family. And love.”
He looked at her one last time. “I guess influence does change people.”
Then he turned and walked away. No dramatic exit. Not even a final plea. Just a broken man disappearing into a sea of cameras.
The reporters grew even louder.
“Miss Carter, is your real name Shakira?”
“Did you abandon him?”
“Mr. Blackwood, are you still getting married?”
James opened the car door wider. “Ma’am.”
Serena couldn’t feel her legs.
Damien reached for her wrist, steadying her, and guided her into the passenger seat.
The door shut with a heavy thud, muffling the frenzy outside.
James slid into the front passenger seat. Morris started the engine. The Rolls-Royce pulled away from the curb.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Serena stared out the window, tears slipping silently down her face.
Damien watched the city pass by. Then, without looking at her, he asked, “So… which name is yours?”
She wiped at her eyes. “They’re both mine.”
He nodded once. “Shakira sounds nice.”
Silence settled again. The car turned onto a quieter street. Damien rested one arm along the door.
“You know…” His voice was thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Walking away from someone who clearly still loves you is unusual.”
She stiffened. “I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving him.”
He turned to her. “Then why?”
She stared straight ahead. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Another pause.
“I assumed you were the type of woman who finished what she started.”
The words landed harder than he had intended.
“Can you please stop talking?” Her voice cracked. “Please.”
He fell silent immediately. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine.
Serena pressed her forehead against the cool glass.
Images flooded her mind: Ricardo teaching her how to ride a bicycle. Ricardo dancing with her in the kitchen. Ricardo kneeling with a ring in his hand. Ricardo crying in front of a courthouse.
Her dear, sweet Ricardo.
Was revenge truly worth this?
A white linen napkin appeared in front of her. She looked up. Damien was holding it out. She took it quietly. “Thank you.”
Another long silence passed before she spoke again. “If you want to end the marriage plans…” She swallowed. “…I’ll understand.”
He frowned slightly. “When I was fifteen, my mother did something exceptionally selfish.”
Serena looked at him.
“She lied to my father and the shareholders about a financial decision, and eventually my father found out.”
“Did he protect her?” she asked.
Damien shook his head. “He exposed her to the others, then stood beside her while she dealt with the consequences herself.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“He told me something afterward.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘A marriage where spouses become each other’s witnesses instead of each other’s shields is already dead.’”
Serena frowned thoughtfully, trying to untangle the meaning behind his words.
He looked out the window. “I’m not my father.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“So no,” he continued. “I’m not ending this because I discovered something messy about your past, though you do have some explaining to do.”
She let out a shaky breath. “What about the media?”
“That part is inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?”
“Yes. They’ll be insufferable for a few days.” He shrugged. “I’ve survived worse.”
“You really don’t care about your family’s reputation?”
“Not particularly.” A faint smirk touched his lips. “You should be more concerned about facing your mother-in-law.”
Serena groaned. “Don’t call her that.”
“She technically qualifies.”
“She terrifies me.”
“She terrifies most people.”
The Rolls-Royce slowed to a stop outside Serena’s apartment building.
Nina stood outside, pacing anxiously. The moment she saw the car, she sprinted toward it.
James stepped out immediately and moved to open Serena’s door.
Before she could get out, Damien spoke. “In three days, James will come for you.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“To move your things.”
She blinked. “Move my things where?”
“Blackwood Manor.” He said it as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “You’ll be living with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Already?”
“You signed the contract.”
“I know, but I thought—”
“I have no interest in pretending we’re married while living in separate homes.”
She sighed. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that clause.”
James held the door open.
Nina reached them at the same moment, breathing hard. “Serena.”
Serena turned back to Damien. “In the spirit of unity…”
He raised an eyebrow.
“…and since you’re technically my husband…” She paused. “I think you should know… I didn’t abandon Ricardo.”
His expression sharpened, but he remained quiet.
“If there was anyone who left us…” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “…it was Shanice.”
He frowned. “Who’s Shanice?”
Before she could answer, Nina grabbed her arm. “Serena!”
“What?” Serena asked. “Look, I know I promised to call you, but the last twenty-four hours have been crazy, so—”
Nina didn’t let her finish. “Your apartment!”
Serena’s brows furrowed. “What about my apartment?”
Nina’s lips trembled. “I came to tell you…” She glanced nervously at Damien and James. “…someone broke into your apartment.”
Serena went completely still. “What?”
“They trashed everything.”
Her heart stopped. “What do you mean, trashed?”
“I don’t know.” Nina swallowed. “But it seems they were looking for something.”
The blood drained from Serena’s face.
Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the pavement with a sharp c***k.
Then she ran.
- Writer
