I can still see Seraphina’s face when they told her he was gone. She broke in front of me. She screamed, cried, begged the heavens. And I—selfish as I was—stepped into the gap his death left.
I comforted her. I offered her stability. I told myself it was love, told myself that I had finally won against Adrian, that he had always taken what he wanted and this time, fate had chosen me instead.
And she stayed. She gave me her years, her devotion, her warmth. For five years, she was by my side. And yet… when Helena came back into my life, I thought my heart still belonged to her. I thought it was Helena who held the key. But now…
Now as I knelt before the unrecognizable remains of Seraphina, as the DNA confirmed what my eyes refused to see, I felt something crack inside me. A weight crushing my chest, a pain I could not name. My heart ached—Adrian’s heart, beating inside me, mourning the woman he truly loved.
Or was it me? Was it Dominic, not Adrian, who couldn’t stop crying her name?
“Seraphina…” My voice broke, my tears falling freely, no longer caring who saw. “Why… why did you leave me?”
A sharp sting tore me from my grief. A slap. Helena stood before me, her face contorted with rage.
“How dare you leave me at the altar!” she screamed. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? Everyone’s talking right now—about her! About Seraphina! And here you are, crying over a dead body!”
I stared at her, stunned. “How dare you slap me—she’s dead, Helena!”
“So what? You wanted her dead, didn’t you?” she spat, her eyes glinting.
My fury surged, and before I could stop myself, I slapped her back. The sound cracked in the air, and silence fell around us. Helena touched her cheek, horrified. “You slapped me? Dominic?”
“You started it,” I hissed, my chest heaving. “Can’t you see? I’m grieving!”
She laughed bitterly. “Grieving? For her? Didn’t you say you never cared for her? Didn’t you say she was nothing but pity, nothing but guilt? Why now, Dominic? Why cry now, when she’s dead? Don’t tell me… don’t you dare tell me… that you love her.”
Her words pierced me. Love. The word I had denied, twisted, buried under excuses. My lips parted, but no sound came. I shook my head, unable to answer.
Finally, I whispered, “Just… not like this. She can’t die. Not when she filed a case against me. She can’t leave without paying for it.”