Birthday Party

Serena let out a cold, hollow laugh. The sound scraped against her throat, bitter and devoid of any lingering affection. "Of course I won't."

She wiped her face and took a deliberate step away from the tangled sheets, severing the physical proximity between them. "We are getting a divorce regardless. Get your things ready. It is time to head to the courthouse."

She met his gaze, her expression hardening into an impenetrable mask. "Even if you dropped to your knees right now and confessed that Leo was your biological son, I wouldn't give a single fuck anymore."

Declan’s features turned to ice. The veins in his neck pulsed. Realizing his usual manipulative tactics were failing to control her narrative, he drew himself up. He looked down his nose at her, adopting a patronizing, authoritative tone. "We will talk about this when you finally cool off."

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him, the sharp bang rattling the hinges and leaving a ringing silence in his wake.

Left alone in the empty house, the suppressed rage inside Serena boiled over. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. She marched straight to the far wall, her eyes locking onto the large, framed wedding portrait hanging above the dresser. She grabbed the ornate edges. With a sharp, forceful yank, she tore it off the wall and hurled it at the hardwood floor.

The heavy frame crashed down. Jagged shards of glass exploded outward, the noise echoing loudly through the silent space. The splintered glass severed the smiling image of her and Declan, perfectly mirroring the irreparable state of their broken marriage.

Amidst the glittering wreckage, her phone began to ring. The screen illuminated the caller ID: Nadine.

Serena swallowed the lump in her throat. She picked up the device and forced her breathing to steady. "Mom."

"Serena," Nadine said, her voice gentle and normal. "Have you forgotten what day it is?"

A glance at the digital calendar on her nightstand provided the answer. It was her father Roland’s birthday.

"Of course not," Serena replied. She forced a bright, cheerful tone, desperately trying to mask her crumbling reality. "It is Dad's birthday. I have a special gift ready for him. I will head over to the family home soon."

"Good. Drive safely, sweetheart. We will be waiting for you."

The call ended. Serena stepped over the shattered glass and walked into the master bathroom. She gripped the edges of the cold marble sink and stared into the mirror. The woman looking back at her was unrecognizable. Swollen, red-rimmed eyes stared out from a haggard face. She looked like a casualty who had barely survived a brutal war.

She straightened her spine. This pathetic reflection was not the true, proud Vance heiress.

Opening her vanity, she began her work. For two painstaking hours, she meticulously layered foundation and concealer, burying her pain beneath a flawless canvas. She contoured her cheekbones to look sharp, and lined her eyes until they appeared predatory. Finally, she finished her armor with a bold, defiant swipe of crimson lipstick.

Just as she capped the lipstick, her phone buzzed against the marble counter. Nadine calling back.

"Mom?"

A strange, awkward hesitance hung on the line. "Serena, there is a sudden change of plans. Your dad decided a party is too much fuss. He canceled the celebration altogether. We will not be doing anything today."

A cold, hard truth settled over Serena. The lie was transparent. She intuitively knew she was being deliberately excluded. Masking her deep annoyance and sharp hurt, she answered with icy detachment.

"I understand. I am not feeling well anyway, so I will not be coming over. I will have someone drop off the gift."

The moment the call ended, Serena snatched her car keys off the dresser. Her knuckles turned white from the intense grip. She marched out to the garage, slid into the driver's seat, and drove straight toward Vance Manor.

The drive was a blur of towering trees and winding estate roads. As Serena approached the grand entryway of her childhood home, the sound of boisterous, cheerful laughter drifted out through the open windows. The joyous noise created a stark contrast to the frigid mood consuming her.

She parked the car and stepped out, her heels clicking sharply on the cobblestone path. Pushing through the front double doors, she encountered a flustered maid carrying a tray of fresh drinks.

The young woman froze, her eyes widening in surprise as she nearly spilled the glasses. "Mrs. Mercer..."

Serena stopped dead in her tracks. Her voice cut through the air—crisp, authoritative, and merciless. "I am always a part of the Vance family. Use the wrong title again, and I will deduct your salary." She pinned the terrified servant with a frosty glare. "The Vance family has only one true heiress. That is me. Memorize that fact."

The maid trembled, nodding frantically as she shrank back against the hallway wall.

Serena continued her steady march, stepping fully into the living room.

The scene before her shattered her remaining composure. It was a sickeningly warm, picturesque display of domestic bliss. Roland wore a colorful, cone-shaped birthday hat, laughing out loud as little Leo bounced happily on his lap. Nadine sat on the plush rug, playing enthusiastically with a stack of the boy's toys. Standing just a few feet away, Lyla held up her phone, happily snapping photos of the intimate family gathering.

"Dad, mom, Leo, look over here," Lyla said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Too bad Nolan isn't home, or we could get a proper family photo."

The sharp click of Serena's stilettos against the floor finally drew their attention.

The joyful room froze instantly. They spotted her standing quietly and ominously in the doorway.

Nadine’s fingers slipped. The plastic toy dropped from her hand and clattered onto the hardwood floor. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale with shock and deep unease. She scrambled to her feet, stuttering over her words. "Serena... why are you here? You just said you were not feeling well."

Serena did not move a single muscle. Her gaze swept over the colorful birthday hat, the scattered toys, and the hypocritical smiles that had vanished into thin air. A sardonic, dangerous glint flickered across her frosty eyes.

"It is a good thing I decided to come," Serena remarked dryly, her tone dripping with icy irony. "Otherwise, I never would have realized my own family was having such a happy, exclusive little birthday party without me."