The Last Resort

Serena scrambled to her feet the moment the rhythmic sound of expensive leather shoes reached her. Her stiff joints protested after hours of waiting, but she ignored the ache.

"Damian!" she called out, her voice cutting sharply through the cavernous stillness.

He paused mid-stride. His dark, impeccably tailored suit looked pristine even at this late hour. He turned his head slightly. "Why are you here?" he asked, his tone flat.

She hurried over, closing the distance between them. "I came to talk to you. You wouldn't pick up a single one of my calls."

"And why exactly do you want to talk to me?" He barely glanced at her.

"It's about Tessa—"

"I'm not doing anything about that," Damian cut her off with brutal indifference. "And neither should you."

"But she's innocent," Serena pleaded.

"There are many innocent people suffering in this world," he replied harshly. "Do I need to step in and save every single one of them?"

The coldness in his voice felt like a physical blow. She forced herself to stand tall. "We're not divorced yet," she said, her voice shaking slightly but holding firm. "I'm still your wife."

Damian turned to face her fully, his brow arching in open mockery. "And?"

Serena swallowed hard. "I'm willing to leave this marriage without taking a single penny. If you just help Tessa."

Damian stared at her for a second before a dry, disdainful chuckle escaped his lips. "Leave this marriage without taking a penny, you say?" His eyes narrowed, gleaming like shards of ice. "Serena, did you seriously think I was going to let you take anything in the first place?"

She froze. "According to the law, married couples divide their assets equally in a divorce."

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her. "We have a prenuptial agreement," he said frostily. "It explicitly states that in the event of a divorce, you will willingly leave this marriage without taking money or any assets whatsoever from the Sinclair family."

"What did you say?!" Her eyes widened in shock. 'Was I really that stupid in the past? Why would I ever sign something so unfair?'

The crushing realization hit her. She had just lost the only bargaining chip she thought she possessed. Damian clearly felt he had wasted enough breath on her. He turned his back abruptly and resumed his purposeful strides toward the doors.

Panic surged through Serena's veins. He was really going to leave Tessa to rot in a cell.

"If you help me, I'll fully cooperate with the divorce!" she shouted at his broad back. "If you don't, then..."

Her mind raced. She had to find something.

"Don't ever think about divorcing me!" she yelled, her voice echoing against the polished marble walls. "Your precious sweetheart will be a mistress forever!"

That made him stop dead in his tracks.

Damian slowly turned around. The temperature in the room seemed to plunge. "Serena Sterling," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register. "Are you threatening me?"

His dark eyes locked onto hers. The sheer weight of his gaze was suffocating, pinning her in place. Every survival instinct screamed at her to shrink back, but she forced her chin up. Tessa was sitting in a cold cell because of her.

"What if I am?" she challenged, though her heart pounded frantically against her ribs.

Damian stared at her in deafening silence. His obsidian eyes seemed to pierce right through her facade. The stare stretched on for so long that Serena felt as if her soul was being sucked into his dark pupils.

Her breath hitched. She knew going back on her word about the divorce was underhanded. But she had nothing left. Stripped of her memories, the only person in this city with enough power to drag Tessa out of this nightmare was the ruthless man standing right in front of her.

His expression remained a mask carved from solid ice. "We'll see about that," he said softly.

With that, he turned and strode out the glass doors. A man like Damian Sinclair had not reached his level of dominance by bowing to a desperate threat.

Serena stood rooted to the floor. When her senses finally snapped back, she bolted toward the exit, pushing hard through the revolving doors. But she was too late. The glowing red taillights of his sleek car were already fading down the empty street.

The next few days dragged out into a relentless nightmare.

Damian did not return home once. He ignored every single call she made. Serena ran herself ragged, exhausting every legal avenue to bail Tessa out. Nothing worked. She wasn't even allowed a brief visitation to see Tessa in holding.

The Vance family was a towering, impenetrable wall. They possessed generational wealth, deep political influence, and a vicious grudge. Tessa had severely injured Declan, their prized son, and the Vances were out for blood. No regular citizen could possibly intervene.

Pure desperation eventually drove Serena back to the hospital. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as she approached the sprawling medical facility. This was her third consecutive day dragging herself here, clinging to the faint hope of getting an audience with Mrs. Vance.

She rode the elevator up to the exclusive VIP floor. She walked down the pristine, quiet corridor toward Declan's lavish private ward.

She didn't make it past the waiting area.

Two massive bodyguards dressed in sharp black suits stood outside the heavy oak door. The moment their eyes locked onto her, they stepped forward in unison, blocking the hallway.

"I just need five minutes with Mrs. Vance," Serena pleaded.

The bodyguards didn't blink. "Ma'am, you need to turn around and leave," the taller one rumbled. "Mrs. Vance has made it exceptionally clear. She will not see you."

"Please, let me just explain—"

"Leave now, or we will physically remove you," the second guard warned, crossing his thick arms.

Serena bit her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. The suffocating taste of total powerlessness coated her tongue. She had no choice but to walk away.

Tessa was the only person who had stayed by her side when she woke up from her coma. Serena had sworn to herself she would get her out of jail no matter the cost, but right now, she was hitting brutal dead ends everywhere.

With nowhere else to go, Serena headed straight back to Sinclair Corporation.

As she walked through the doors, the two front desk receptionists stiffened. Having learned their lesson from the recording incident, they swallowed their usual venom and remained silent. Serena simply walked over to the leather sofa in the lobby and sat down to wait.

After what felt like a lifetime, the sharp clicking of stiletto heels shattered the quiet hum of the building.

Serena lifted her head. A perfectly manicured woman strutted through the main doors. It was Chloe Mercer.

Chloe slowed her confident pace, her sharp eyes landing on the sofa. She stopped abruptly, her painted lips curving into a mocking smirk. "What is the deal with that woman sitting there?" she asked loudly.

The two receptionists instantly perked up. Emboldened by Chloe's presence, they found their voices.

"Good day, Miss Mercer," the first receptionist greeted with a fawning smile. "This woman is here demanding to see Mr. Sinclair, but she doesn't have an appointment. According to company rules, we cannot let her up."

The second receptionist chimed in, rolling her eyes. "She keeps claiming to be Mrs. Sinclair, but she couldn't even get Mr. Sinclair on the phone. It's truly pathetic."

Chloe feigned a gasp, pressing a delicate hand to her chest. She strolled casually over to the sofa.

"Goodness me," Chloe cooed, her eyes dripping with malice. "Aren't you Ms. Sterling? Or should I say..." She covered her mouth and let out a sharp giggle. "Mrs. Sinclair? But if you're really the grand Mrs. Sinclair, shouldn't you be upstairs in his office? Why are you sitting down here in the lobby?"

Serena stared up at Chloe's gloating expression, keeping her face blank. She stayed silent.

Her silence only fueled Chloe's massive ego.

"Didn't I warn you to be smart and stop bothering Damian?" Chloe sneered, crossing her arms. "Seems you're even dumber than I originally thought. You only have yourself to blame for the utter humiliation you've brought upon yourself. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Chloe reached out and lightly patted her own cheek, feigning pity. "Your face must be burning right now."

Serena's eyes narrowed into cold slits. She didn't rise to the petty bait. Instead, she cut straight to the core of the issue.

"You're the one who did this to Tessa, aren't you?" Serena stated, her voice dangerously calm.

Chloe's smirk widened into a triumphant, wicked grin. She looked so incredibly pleased with herself.

"Yeah, it was me," Chloe admitted haughtily. "But so what? She's nothing but an insignificant little assistant. Besides, Damian wouldn't blame me even if it was you sitting in that filthy jail cell right now."

She giggled again, a dark, venomous sound.

"Have you forgotten the time you were pushed into the pool?" Chloe taunted cruelly.

Serena's pupils dilated into tiny pinpoints. Her blood ran ice cold. A sudden ache throbbed behind her eyes. The pool. Her eyes locked onto Chloe, turning glacial.

Chloe sighed dramatically, tossing her hair back. She spun around on her expensive heels to face the receptionists.

"Oh no," Chloe said in a loud, performative tone. "I dropped by so unexpectedly today. I didn't even make an appointment. Is it really okay if I go up just like this to see Damian?"

The first receptionist practically tripped over herself to answer. "Based on your close relationship with Mr. Sinclair, you don't need an appointment at all, Miss Mercer. Please head up whenever you wish. Don't let us keep you waiting."

Chloe's chest puffed out proudly. She turned back to Serena, shooting her a look of pure contempt.

"You hear that?" Chloe insinuated, her voice dripping with poison. "There will always be shameless women trying their luck to seduce Damian. You girls better keep your eyes peeled, so you don't accidentally let these indecent, desperate women inside."