Chapter 3

Serena’s POV

Ian is standing in the doorway, glaring at me. I’m sitting on the hospital bed, my leg still in a cast, my body tired and tense. I see confusion, anger, and something close to panic on his face. He’s trying to pretend he has a reason for what he did yesterday, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore.

“Serena,” he says, his voice tight, “we need to talk. It’s not what you think.”

I just stare at him. My heart is heavy with disgust. Yesterday, in the middle of chaos, he chose Nina. He saved her and left me behind. Any explanations he offers now will only make me feel worse.

“Ian,” I say, my voice flat, “we’re done.” I watch his eyes go wide. I can see how much that hurts him. He didn’t expect me to end it so directly, but I’m beyond patience. Three years down the drain. Three years of loyalty, trust, and support—gone. My anger and heartbreak burn in my chest, and I can’t stand to look at him anymore.

He points at Lucas, who’s standing nearby, calm and silent. Lucas isn’t doing anything except watching us, his arms relaxed, his posture confident. Ian’s voice rises, sharp with jealousy. “Really? You’re throwing everything away for this guy? He’s just some cop, right?” Ian sounds desperate, like he needs to insult Lucas to regain control.

My blood boils. I clench my jaw. “Ian, you know exactly why I’m ending this,” I snap. “You left me there. You saved Nina and left me behind. Don’t act like you don’t get it.”

Ian’s face crumples for a second, and he can’t find words. There’s a silence, then he tries a different angle.

“Maybe we never belonged together,” he mutters. He looks away, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You’re too independent. Too strong. You never needed me. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how much pressure you put on me by being so damn capable all the time?”

I almost laugh. The sound that comes out is short and bitter. I remember how I followed him back to Manhattan, worked day and night to help his family’s business. I was there when he was at his lowest, dragging in investors, doing whatever it took to help him succeed. Now he wants to call it pressure? He wants to blame me for being strong?

He tries to soften his voice, like he wants to be friends. “Look, Serena, we don’t have to be enemies. If you ever need something, you know you can call me.”

“Don’t bother,” I say, my words cold. “I’ll never trust a man who left me to die. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your help. And I sure as hell don’t need you.”

He flinches. “Serena—”

I cut him off. “I hope you and Nina live happily ever after. I hope you never regret your choice. Now, please go.” My tone drips with sarcasm and rage. I’m done holding back. He looks hurt, humiliated, and I don’t care.

Ian glares at me, clearly pissed off that I’m pushing him this hard. He tries to salvage his pride, looking desperate and cornered. “You think this guy is worth it?” he snarls, jerking his chin at Lucas. “He’s nobody. Just a pretty face and some slick lines. Guys like him rely on dumb women to keep them afloat. He’s got nothing.”

I roll my eyes, fed up with his nonsense. “Enough,” I say sharply. “GET OUT!”

Lucas says nothing. He steps closer to me and gently moves a strand of hair from my face. His touch is so calm and sure. I can feel the strength in him, the quiet confidence. He’s tall, built like he spends hours taking care of his body, and the way he stood there catching me earlier—like I weighed nothing—still makes my heart flutter. Ian sees that small gesture and clenches his fists, furious, but he knows he’s lost. At the doorway, he shoots Lucas a furious look, then slams the door behind him.

I breathe out, the tension leaving my body. I look at Lucas. “Thanks for helping me earlier,” I say quietly. “And… thanks for that too.” I gesture vaguely to the door, meaning the subtle way he stood by me. “I’m really tired. I just want some time alone.”

Lucas nods, his face expressionless. Before leaving, he places a box of tissues on my bedside table. “A man who feels pressure being with a strong woman isn’t good enough,” he says, his voice low and firm. “That’s on him, not on you.”