Chapter 1
Serena's POV:
"Serena, I have changed my mind. Mia has got a touch of asthma. That lame dog's fur is a shedding machine, so have the butler get rid of that dog Lily is clinging to before it triggers an asthma attack."
Arthur Ashford stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of our Manhattan penthouse, fastening the French cuffs of his bespoke shirt with that infuriating, unhurried grace, his voice a cool, regal command. My name is Serena Hensley, and after six years of marriage, I barely recognized the man before me.
His eyes never once strayed from the Empire State Building, slicing the skyline.
I watched Lily crouch on the carpet, carefully swaddling that disabled puppy in a cashmere throw. An invisible fist clamped around my heart and squeezed until I could barely breathe.
Barely ten minutes earlier, Arthur had settled a lively golden retriever into Mia Mercer's arms like a prince bestowing a treasure.
Now, he would not even allow his own flesh and blood the runt of the litter.
"Arthur, Lily adores this dog. And it is an ultra-short-haired breed, so it would not trigger a sneeze, let alone an asthma attack," I whispered, clinging to the last fraying thread of dignity.
Arthur finally turned his head, his deep blue eyes flickering with a blend of exasperation and impatience.
"Serena, when did you become so petty?" He loomed over me, closing the distance, his gaze sharp as cut glass. "Mia's father abandoned them. Chloe is raising her alone, bone-tired and barely holding it together. The girl has been starved of security since birth. One tiny shock could send her into a spiral. Lily has the full force of our love, and she lacks for nothing. So what if she gives up a dog?"
He delivered the words with such lofty righteousness, painting me as the wicked stepmother tormenting some tragic orphan.
But Chloe Mercer was not some desolate widow. She was Arthur's first love, the one who had tossed him aside when his career hit a wall and bounced straight into the arms of a French tycoon.
And the one who had trudged through that soul-crushing darkness at Arthur's side? That was me.
"No. This is your gift to Lily. It is not getting thrown out." I planted myself in front of my daughter, unyielding as iron.
Arthur's face darkened like a brewing storm. He was so accustomed to my easy compliance that this flash of rebellion struck him as a direct assault on his authority.
Just then, the guest room door swung open. Chloe emerged, draped in a sheer silk nightgown that clung to her slender frame, guiding Mia by the hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red, voice so whispery and frail it could scatter in a breeze.
"Arthur, do not blame Serena," she murmured, the picture of wounded delicacy. "It is all my fault. I never should have brought Mia to New York and upset your home. She just had a little cough last night, and it is nothing; some medicine will fix it. Please, do not let us come between you two."
The second Arthur caught that faint cough from Chloe, his brow furrowed into a deep scowl. He strode over, scooped Mia right up, and his tone was a sharp blend of scolding and naked worry. "Ridiculous. You cannot just take some medicine for an asthma flare-up."
He whipped his head toward the butler, eyes glacial. "Get that dog out of here this instant. Dump it at the shelter."
"No! Uncle Arthur, please, please do not take my puppy away!" Five-year-old Lily's wail exploded into a heart-shredding shriek. She clamped her arms around that lame little dog as if her life depended on it, fat, hot tears splattering onto the carpet.
My poor girl, she could not even choke out the word "Daddy."
The butler's face twisted in a grimace of sympathy, but under Arthur's icy glare he had no choice. Squaring his shoulders, he marched over and wrenched the shivering puppy right out of Lily's desperate grip.
Lily sobbed so violently she could not catch her breath. Her tiny body curled into a tight, quaking ball on the floor. I lunged toward her, scooping her up, my entire frame trembling like a leaf in a gale.
Arthur loomed above us, staring down without a single flicker of remorse in those cold eyes. "Serena, take Lily to her room. Just look at what you are raising, a selfish, narrow-hearted child with not one ounce of sympathy."
He tossed out that parting shot, then turned on his heel, Mia still in his arms, Chloe tucked beside him, and strode for the door. "I am taking Mia to a private hospital for a full work-up. I will not be back tonight."
The door slammed shut, leaving Lily and me abandoned in the icy chill of the living room.
I crushed my sobbing daughter against my chest, my heart feeling as if a hole had been ripped straight through it, letting a bone-chilling wind howl right in.
My thoughts drifted back to three years ago, when Lily was just two, struck by a raging fever in the dead of night.
Arthur had been locked in a ten-billion-dollar cross-border merger negotiation. Without a second thought, he adjourned the meeting, gunned his car through a blizzard, and raced two hours back to the estate.
He kept vigil at her bedside all night, gently wiping her feverish skin with tepid cloths, over and over.
He clasped my hand, his eyes bloodshot, and whispered, "Serena, if I could trade every dime of my fortune to keep you both safe, I would do it in a heartbeat."
Where had that man vanished to, the one who once cherished us as his most priceless treasure?
Everything tilted the moment Chloe returned home with Mia, her marriage in ruins.
Arthur drowned the guilt he owed his first love in a flood of tenderness, while trampling my dignity and Lily's underfoot as if it were his right.
I gently patted Lily's back, and with every touch, the warmth in my eyes drained away, bit by bit.
'Arthur, you always thought I would stay rooted in that same spot, forgiving you forever. But once disappointment piles up high enough, love simply slips away.
