Chapter 3

### Chapter 3

Elliot walked over, his voice cold.

"Vivien isn't well. I moved her into the master bedroom so she can rest properly."

Vivien pressed closer against him, her voice catching in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Serena. I didn't mean to. The second I came in I saw the memorial photo and I got so scared, that's why—"

"Scared, and yet you still moved in?"

"Enough!" Elliot cut me off sharply. "It's one photo. Do you really have to keep dragging it out?"

My chest heaved. "One photo? That's the only thing my mother left me."

Something flickered across Elliot's face.

I turned my red-rimmed eyes away, picked up the photo and my bags, and walked off. That look of pure disappointment made something in Elliot's chest tighten for no reason he could name. "Where are you going? The guest room's empty!"

"I'll stay downstairs. Wouldn't want to upset Miss Galloway."

The words were barely out before the servants started whispering to each other in surprise. "But the only thing left downstairs is that tool room full of junk."

"That's right. And CEO Farley built that tool room himself, back then, for Miss Galloway."

She liked flowers, so he'd planted them for her by hand. After she left, for years Elliot never let anyone into that room. By now it was thick with dust.

I found myself suddenly curious to see what Elliot would decide.

But Vivien spoke first, tugging at his sleeve with a wounded look.

"It's fine. At most I'll just take a little more medicine to settle myself. Serena is the lady of the house, after all. I can't be so selfish."

Instead of arguing, Elliot ruled on it at once. "Vivien's easily frightened. Serena, clear out the tool room and stay there for now."

The corner of my mouth twitched.

After Zachary died, I developed panic disorder. I woke at the slightest thing, and had panic attacks more than once.

But apart from calling me an ambulance, Elliot never spared me a single word of concern.

Vivien mentioned it in passing and he was beside himself, rushing to have soundproof glass installed and the walls reinforced, even ordering the servants to go barefoot when they came upstairs.

As if she'd melt if he held her any less carefully.

So it turned out that when he loved someone, he could be this gentle too.

I gave the tool room a quick clean, barely clearing enough space to sleep.

Back when Zachary was alive, he even made the bed himself. He said my hands were meant to feel happiness, not do chores.

Later, to win Elliot's favor, I took on every dirty, exhausting job there was.

Before, I'd had hope in my heart, so it never felt that hard to bear. Now there was nothing in my chest but bitterness.

At least it was only for a few more days.

Toward evening, Elliot pushed the door open, glanced around with a frown, and tossed a formal dress at me.

"Put this on. You're coming to the family dinner with me."

At the dinner, his parents and relatives kept up a steady stream of small talk.

Eventually the conversation turned, and everyone's eyes settled on us. Bryce Farley spoke up abruptly. "You two have been married three years now. It's time you had a child."

"Exactly. The Farleys need an heir."

One of the female relatives looked at me. "Serena, is something wrong with you, physically? Medicine's advanced these days. Why not get some help from drugs and, you know, tools—"

Elliot, who had said nothing all this time, suddenly cut in, irritation in his voice.

"I'm the one who's in no hurry."

The air froze. Paula Farley fixed me with a sharp stare. "Serena. Come to the study with me."

Elliot started to say something, but his phone rang. He glanced at it, and his expression shifted. He answered at once and walked out, his voice turning impossibly gentle. "Vivien, what's wrong?"

I followed Paula in silence. The moment we were in the study, she gave the order, cold as ice.

"Kneel."

I froze, and the bodyguard beside me suddenly kicked the back of my knee. Pain shot through me, and I dropped to the cold floor.

Paula looked down at me. "Elliot says he's in no hurry for a child, and you didn't even try to talk him out of it!"

She pulled out a black velvet box and threw it in front of me.

"These will help things along. From today on, you'll share his bed every night until you conceive."

The old me would have agreed, sweet and obliging.

Today I shook my head.

"I don't need them. And his heart is weak. He shouldn't be doing anything that strenuous, that often."

Paula's pupils shrank. "You dare talk back to me?"

I lifted my head, my gaze steady. "Your son doesn't want a child with me. You should be talking to him, not me."

Worried about his health, we'd shared a bed only a handful of times since the wedding.

And even on the rare occasions things went further, Elliot always made sure I took the morning-after pill straight away.

Now that I knew it wasn't Zachary's heart in his chest, there was even less chance I'd ever carry his child.

"You've completely lost your place!" Paula was shaking with fury. "Bring the whip!"

The bodyguard handed her a whip.

Crack.

The whip came down hard, and the searing pain tore a scream out of me.

I collapsed to the floor in agony, and through the window I could see Elliot still out in the garden on his phone, not once glancing this way.

There was a smile at the corner of his mouth the whole time. Clearly the call with Vivien was going well.

"Will you take them or not?!" "I… won't."

Blood soaked through my clothes, and the last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Elliot's smiling face, still on that call.

But I smiled too. This way, the two of us were even.