Zane's Cousin Is Right Up Kaelen's Alley

Declan’s arms tightened around Serena, acting as a sturdy shield against the world she had fought so hard to survive. The heavy scent of his cologne, a refined blend of cedar and leather, enveloped her senses. For the first time across two lifetimes, she felt an unbreakable anchor. Declan pulled back just enough to look at her face, his large hands resting gently on her shoulders. His dark, discerning eyes scanned her delicate features, searching for any lingering traces of pain. Finding none but the bright sheen of her relieved tears, the corners of his mouth lifted into a genuine, protective smile. He reached up, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped her lashes. In that quiet, profound moment, the fractured pieces of the Sterling family clicked perfectly into place.

A month and a half slipped by in a haze of healing and newfound warmth.

Kingsport’s upper-crust society was practically vibrating with the scandalous news. The long-lost Sterling heiress, snatched away eighteen years ago by a cruel twist of fate, had finally been found and brought home.

Diana had initially drawn up elaborate plans for a grand introduction banquet. She wanted to rent out the crystal ballroom at the most exclusive five-star hotel in Kingsport, eager to parade her precious daughter before the city’s elite. But Serena had firmly, yet gently, shut the idea down. Having lived through a past life filled with superficial glamour and the venomous bites of high society, she had zero interest in forcing herself into a corset just to entertain a room full of strangers. She wanted peace. She wanted quiet mornings and dinners with her family.

Diana, mindful of Serena’s recent recovery from the car accident, immediately caved. If her daughter wanted to stay hidden in the estate and relax, she would have it.

However, high society despised a vacuum. Without a face to attach to the rumors, the country clubs and high-end salons began spinning their own vicious narratives. The whispers flowed over champagne flutes and manicures. They claimed the Sterling girl was kept under lock and key because she was unpresentable. They said she was deformed, uneducated, and lacked the grace required of a prominent family. They whispered she was a feral blemish on the otherwise flawless Sterling lineage.

Meanwhile, miles away from the sprawling Sterling estate, the Voss family was busy drowning in their own greed.

Arthur Sterling had kept his word. To sever the ties cleanly and reward the family that had housed his daughter, he handed the Vosses a series of highly lucrative supply chain contracts. The influx of capital transformed their mid-tier company overnight. On top of the business deals, Arthur sent a small mountain of lavish gifts—designer bags, imported teas, and rare wines—simply out of standard aristocratic courtesy.

Mr. and Mrs. Voss sat at their dining table, greedily examining the quarterly profit projections. They drank the gifted wine and patted each other on the back, entirely convinced that the Sterlings respected them. They believed the gifts were a desperate plea to maintain a close bond. Intoxicated by their soaring bank accounts, the parents wiped Serena from their minds. She was nothing more than a stepping stone they had successfully discarded.

Upstairs in the guest bedroom, Marcella watched a maid stuff Serena’s old, threadbare clothes into a black trash bag. Marcella leaned against the doorframe, sipping from a glass of sparkling water, her lips curled into a sneer. She had lived comfortably under the Voss roof for the past month and a half, treated like a returning princess. She had everything she wanted, yet an irritating itch lingered in the back of her mind.

She kicked a cardboard box holding Serena’s old textbooks, sending it skidding across the floor.

Why hasn't that miserable wench returned? Marcella thought, her eyes narrowing at the trash bag. It made no sense. Serena had no money, no connections, and nowhere else to go. A dark, twisted sense of possessiveness clawed at Marcella’s chest. She needed Serena around to act as her punching bag. She needed the contrast of Serena’s misery to highlight her own success.

It didn't matter. If Serena didn't crawl back, Marcella would hunt her down.

Putting on a sweet, pleading mask, Marcella marched downstairs and found her parents in the living room. She draped her arms around her mother’s neck and coaxed them into paying the exorbitant tuition fees for Cranston University. They agreed without a second thought, eager to spoil their lucky charm. Marcella smiled against her mother’s shoulder. She would dominate the university, and whenever Serena finally showed her pathetic face, Marcella would be waiting to crush her into the dirt.

The summer heat settled over the Sterling estate, casting long, golden shadows across the manicured backyard.

Serena sat at a wrought-iron patio table beneath the shade of a massive canvas umbrella. The scent of blooming hydrangeas drifted through the air. Diana sat close beside her, using a silver paring knife to expertly slice a crisp peach. Declan lounged in the chair opposite them, dressed in a casual linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He held a tablet, swiping through quarterly oil reports, but his gaze kept darting over the rim to check on his sister.

"Serena," Diana asked, dropping a perfectly sliced peach into a crystal bowl and nudging it toward her. "Which university did you decide on?"

Serena picked up a silver fork and speared a slice. "Cranston University. The department of film and theatrical arts."

Declan set his tablet face down on the table. He leaned forward, his sharp business instincts kicking in. "Film? If you want to act, Sera, I can buy a production studio by tomorrow morning. We can tailor-make scripts for you. You won't have to deal with auditions or industry politics."

Serena laughed, the sound light and musical. "No, thank you, Declan. I want to earn it myself."

She took a bite of the peach, the sweetness bursting on her tongue, but her mind plunged backward into the dark, suffocating memories of her previous life.

She had always dreamed of being an actress. But in her past life, Cranston University was the battleground where Marcella first broke her. Serena had earned her spot at Cranston through grueling academic merit, while Marcella had simply bought her way in. Almost immediately, Marcella formed wealthy, vicious cliques. She isolated Serena, spreading malicious rumors on the university forums, mocking her cheap clothes and part-time jobs.

Despite the bullying, Serena had refused to break. She pushed through, graduating with top honors. Her sheer talent landed her a leading role in a major historical drama right out of the gate. It was the break of a lifetime. She was poised to become an instant sensation.

Then, Marcella struck.

Using the Voss family's money and her manufactured industry connections, Marcella stole the role out from under her. Serena was unceremoniously kicked off the set on a rainy Tuesday. She remembered standing in the mud, holding her script, while Marcella stood under a wide umbrella, smirking at her from the director's side.

That single theft shattered Serena's momentum. She was pushed to the fringes of the entertainment industry, scraping by as an extra, taking on grueling part-time jobs just to afford rent. Every time she managed to claw her way toward a decent supporting role, Marcella’s shadow fell over her, snatching the opportunity away.

Worse yet, Marcella eventually weaponized the media. She exposed Serena as the Voss family's adopted daughter, simultaneously revealing herself as the true biological heir. The entertainment news cycles tore Serena apart. Paid commentators and rabid fans branded Serena a parasite who overstayed her welcome. They painted her as a spiteful, jealous older sister who constantly harassed the innocent, angelic Marcella.

Whenever Serena tried to speak the truth, her voice was drowned out by a tsunami of online hate. The digital mobs flooded her social media with death threats. She lived in a perpetual, waking nightmare, stripped of her dignity, her career, and her voice, while Mr. and Mrs. Voss stood firmly behind Marcella, funding the smear campaigns.

Serena’s grip on the silver fork tightened.

Not in this life.

She felt the solid warmth of the patio chair beneath her, the safety of the estate walls around her. She no longer craved the affection of the Voss family. They were dead to her. But her career, her stolen roles, her tarnished name—she would take it all back. She would step onto the campus of Cranston University and systematically dismantle every trap Marcella tried to set. She would claim the spotlight, force Marcella into the shadows, and watch her choke on her own malice.

"Cranston University is a fantastic choice," Diana said, interrupting Serena's dark vow. A proud, nostalgic smile lit up her mother's face. "I graduated from the drama department at Cranston, Sera. I can’t believe we share the same alma mater!"

The coldness in Serena’s eyes melted instantly. She looked at her mother and beamed, the lingering ghosts of her past life banished by Diana's warmth. "Thank you, Mom!" She popped another slice of peach into her mouth, chewing happily. "Did you really? That makes you my senior!"

Diana chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Serena’s ear. "Do you really want to be an actress, Sera? It's a tough path."

"Mm-hmm," Serena nodded, her expression turning serious but bright. "I do."

"Then you have my blessing," Diana declared, her posture straightening with the regal grace of a former performing artist. "You must have inherited my artistic talent. I will back you every step of the way. My daughter is going to be the greatest actress of her generation."

Declan picked up his tablet, a quiet, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "And if anyone in the industry gives you trouble, tell me. I’ll ruin them."

"Thank you, both of you. I'll work hard," Serena said, her heart swelling with an unfamiliar, fierce joy.

Weeks later, enrollment day arrived, bringing a flurry of activity to the Sterling estate.

Arthur was locked in emergency board meetings, and Diana was slated to give the opening speech at a major charity gala. Neither could afford to skip their obligations to drop Serena off at campus. Instead, they passed the duty to Zane, Serena’s cousin. Zane was currently a junior at Cranston University, majoring in computer science, and knew the campus layout better than anyone.

Serena left the manor early and instructed the family driver to drop her off at a designated pick-up corner near the university gates, planning to meet Zane there.

The morning sun beat down on the pavement. Serena stood under the thick, sprawling canopy of an old oak tree, seeking refuge in the shade. She wore a simple, thin, ruffled white dress that fluttered slightly in the warm breeze, the stark white fabric making her exposed skin look dazzlingly bright.

She held her phone in one hand, her thumb swiping across the screen. Instead of browsing social media, a black terminal window filled her display. Lines of complex red code scrolled rapidly upward as she tested a script she had written the night before. Lost in the rhythm of the code, she tuned out the distant hum of city traffic.

Miles away in a high-end coffee shop, Zane was trapped. A girl sat across from him, sobbing uncontrollably over a recent breakup, her manicured fingers gripping his wrist like a vice. Panic set in as he checked his watch. He was going to be late. Desperate, he pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he trusted with his car and his time.

Kaelen Hawthorne.

Kaelen had rejected the request immediately, his tone sharp and irritated. He despised running errands, especially for a cousin he had never met. But Zane begged, laying on the guilt thick and heavy, pleading that he couldn't leave a crying woman alone in public. Exhausted by the whining, Kaelen finally gave in, ending the call with a harsh click.

Ten minutes later, an inconspicuous, sleek black Bentley glided smoothly down the street leading to Cranston University.

The car slowed as it approached the designated corner. The rear window lowered with a quiet hum, allowing the air-conditioned chill of the interior to clash with the summer heat. Kaelen sat in the back seat, his posture rigid, his dark suit impeccably tailored. His cold, indifferent face held a look of deep annoyance. His lips were pressed into a thin, stern line, and his dark eyes scanned the sidewalk, fully expecting to find an entitled, loud teenager demanding his time.

Instead, his gaze landed on the tree.

His breath hitched. The irritation instantly evaporated from his tense shoulders, replaced by a sudden, electric jolt of intrigue.

Serena stood quietly in the shade, the ruffled white dress moving gently against her knees. She looked ethereal, untouched by the chaotic noise of the city around her. She was staring intently at her phone, her delicate brows slightly furrowed in concentration. She was exactly his type. Every specific, unspoken preference he harbored—the quiet grace, the striking, unadorned beauty, the aura of calm independence—stood materialized right there on the pavement.

Kaelen’s stern expression softened. A strange, magnetic pull anchored his eyes to her. His deep, resonant voice cut through the ambient noise of the street.

"Serena Sterling?"

Beneath the oak tree, Serena paused. Her thumb tapped a command, turning the screen black, and she slowly lifted her head. She locked her phone and looked toward the curb, locking eyes with the man in the back of the Bentley.

Seeing the handsome, striking features and the commanding presence of the man in the car, her mind instantly connected the dots to the arrangement Diana had made. This had to be the cousin studying computer science.

The cold, calculating shield she had built against Marcella and the world vanished. A brilliant, genuinely sweet smile graced her delicate face, lighting up her features and sending another shockwave straight through Kaelen’s chest.

She took a step toward the car, her voice ringing out sweet and clear. "Hello, Zane."

Kaelen’s dark brows rose slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his stoic mask. He listened to the name roll off her tongue. Zane. She thought he was the idiot currently trapped in a coffee shop. Kaelen looked at her innocent face, the pleasant, trusting smile aimed directly at him, and he didn't correct her. What started as a bothersome, forced errand had just become the most rewarding detour of his life.