Chapter 2

I hadn't always been a secret.

There was a time when Seraphina Castellano was a name that opened doors across three continents. My father, Dominic Castellano, built his empire from nothing—shipping, tech, energy—until his name was whispered in boardrooms the way ordinary people whisper about God.

But when my mother died, everything fractured.

I was sixteen. Dad sent me to live with my aunt in a small town, under her married name—Sera Madden—to keep me safe from the vultures circling his empire. "When you're ready," he told me, "you'll come back. But the world I live in eats people alive, and I won't let it eat you."

I met Julian Ashford at twenty-one, waitressing at a café near campus. He was charming, persistent, rich enough to seem powerful but not rich enough to recognize real power. He never asked about my family. I never offered.

When he proposed, I thought love was enough.

I was spectacularly wrong.

Now, sitting in the back of a black SUV my father had sent, I scrolled through my phone with trembling fingers. Julian's circle hadn't stopped.

Naomi had posted a new story: a photo of herself in Julian's kitchen, wearing my apron, captioning it *Home sweet home* with a heart emoji.

My kitchen. My apron. My home.

The comments were vicious.

*"Finally someone with class in that house!"*

*"Sera was always a placeholder lol"*

*"Poor girl thought a baby would lock him down ?"*

And then, Naomi's reply to that last one: *"Some women just don't know their place. I tried to be kind, but she made it so hard."*

She *tried to be kind.*

This was the same woman who had called me at 2 AM last month, sobbing about how "lonely" she was, asking if Julian could "just come check on her." The same woman who spilled red wine on my white dress at Julian's company gala and gasped, "Oh no, how clumsy of me!" while her eyes smiled.

The same woman who, when I confronted Julian about their late-night texts, had shown up at our door the next day with homemade cookies and tears. "Sera, I would never! Julian is like a brother to me. Please don't be the jealous type—it's so unattractive."

And Julian had looked at me like I was the problem.

Every. Single. Time.

The SUV pulled up to a private airstrip. My father's jet gleamed under the floodlights—white, sleek, with the Castellano crest on the tail.

My phone rang. Julian.

I answered.

"Sera, where are you? Your closet's half empty."

"I told you. I left."

A pause. Then a laugh—dismissive, incredulous. "Come on. Where are you actually going? Your dad's? That'll last a week before you come crawling back."

"Maybe."

"Look, I'll have someone bring your stuff to the downtown apartment tomorrow. Naomi wants to redecorate the bedroom, so—"

"She can have it."

"—and the nursery, she thought it'd be better as a yoga studio."

My blood turned to ice.

"She's converting our baby's nursery into a yoga studio?"

"It's not like the baby will live at the estate, Sera. Be practical."

I gripped the phone so hard the case cracked.

"Julian, when this is over, you will remember this exact conversation. And you will wish you had been a different man."

I hung up before he could respond, climbed the jet stairs, and didn't look back.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, I placed my hand on my belly and whispered, "Don't worry, little one. Mommy's done being invisible."

My phone buzzed one last time. A text from Naomi: *No hard feelings, Sera! You'll find someone at your level eventually. ?*

I screenshot it, saved it, and smiled.

*Oh, Naomi. You have no idea what my level is.*