CHAPTER 18: CHAPTER 18 MORNING AFTERMATH

Serena’s POV

I woke up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, momentarily disoriented until the memories of last night came flooding back.

Ryan’s drugged state. His unexpected passion. My embarrassing surrender.

"Shit," I muttered, sitting up abruptly. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Of course he’d left. What had I expected?

A quick glance at the clock showed it was already past eight.

Evelyn would be expecting me for breakfast - her morning ritual that no one in the household dared to miss.

I groaned, knowing she’d be insufferably smug if she suspected what had transpired between her grandson and me.

After a hasty shower to wash away the evidence of last night’s weakness, I dressed in a simple white blouse and pencil skirt.

"Good morning, dear!" Evelyn chirped as I entered the dining room. Her eyes gleamed with expectation, scanning me from head to toe as if looking for visible signs of her plan’s success.

Ryan sat at the opposite end of the table, hidden behind a financial newspaper. The coward couldn’t even face me.

"Sleep well?" Evelyn asked innocently, pouring me a cup of tea.

"Like the dead," I replied flatly, taking my seat. "Must have been something in that special tea you served last night."

The newspaper lowered slightly, revealing Ryan’s tense expression. Our eyes met briefly before he retreated behind his paper fortress.

"I’m so pleased to hear it," Evelyn continued, oblivious to my sarcasm. "Ryan, darling, you look particularly refreshed this morning as well."

Ryan merely grunted in response, which only widened Evelyn’s smile.

"I was just telling Ryan that I’ve scheduled an appointment with Dr. Richardson next week," she announced, placing a plate of fresh fruit before me. "He’s the best fertility specialist in the city."

I nearly choked on my tea. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if you two are trying for a baby, we should ensure everything is in perfect working order."

She explained, as if discussing the weather. "Your diet will need adjustments too. More folic acid, less caffeine."

Ryan finally lowered his newspaper completely. "Grandmother, that’s enough."

"Nonsense! Family planning is nothing to be ashamed of," Evelyn insisted. "Why, your grandfather and I consulted specialists when—"

"I have meetings all morning," Ryan interrupted sharply. "Serena, didn’t you mention needing a ride to your studio?"

I hadn’t, but I seized the lifeline. "Yes, actually. We should go now if you’re to make your first appointment."

Evelyn looked disappointed but didn’t protest as Ryan and I made our hasty exit. The silence in the car was deafening as we pulled away from the mansion.

"About last night," Ryan finally began, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

"Let’s not," I cut him off. "It was a mistake facilitated by whatever your grandmother put in your drink."

His jaw tightened. "Is that what you think? That it was just the drug?"

"What else would it be?" I laughed bitterly. "Three years of marriage and you barely touched me. One drugged night and suddenly you can’t keep your hands off me? Please."

Ryan took a sharp turn, pulling into an empty parking lot before slamming the car into park. "It wasn’t just the drug, Serena."

"Don’t," I warned, staring straight ahead. "Don’t you dare try to rewrite our history now."

"I’m not," he insisted, turning to face me. "The drug lowered my inhibitions, yes, but the desire was already there."

"Save it," I snapped. "When are you telling your grandmother about our divorce? She’s planning our fertility treatments, for God’s sake!"

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "I’ll tell her soon. But there’s no rush, is there? Unless..." His eyes narrowed. "Unless you’ve met someone."

The accusation caught me off guard. "What?"

"Is that it? You’re seeing someone new?"

"That’s none of your business," I replied automatically, though there was no one.

Ryan’s expression darkened. "So there is someone."

"I didn’t say that," I argued, irritated by his assumption. "But even if there were, we’re divorced, Ryan. You have no claim on me anymore."

Before he could respond, my phone chimed with a text notification. I glanced down, momentarily distracted.

From: Triton

Just landed in town. Dinner tonight? I’ve missed your face.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

Most people knew him by his hacker handle—Triton. That was how I knew him, too.

We’d met by pure chance. He came across some of my designs online and reached out, saying he saw real potential in them.

To my surprise, he not only appreciated my work but seemed to understand my creative vision better than anyone else ever had.

We hit it off almost immediately—especially when it came to design. He had an eye for detail and a mind that worked in sync with mine.

Whenever I was stuck, he always knew just the right thing to say—or the perfect reference to send.

Over time, I found myself turning to him not only for creative input, but also for comfort, especially during the lowest points of my failed marriage.

We’d never met in person, never even exchanged photos.

Our entire friendship played out through a secure, encrypted app. And yet, somehow, he became one of the few people I truly trusted. One of the few who got me.

Not that I wasn’t curious. I mean, who wouldn’t wonder what the infamous "Triton" looked like in real life?

"Who’s that?" Ryan demanded, craning his neck to see my screen.

I tilted the phone away instinctively. "Just a friend. And again, none of your business."

"A friend who makes you smile like that?"

"Just drive, Ryan," I sighed. "Take me back to my apartment. I have work to do."

He started the engine with more force than necessary, merging back into traffic. "Is it serious?"

"Oh my God," I groaned. "Are you serious right now? You spend three years ignoring me, divorce me, and now you’re interrogating me about my social life?"

"I have a right to know—"

"You have no rights where I’m concerned," I interrupted coldly. "Not anymore."

We drove the rest of the way in tense silence. When we reached my apartment building, I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

"Serena," Ryan called as I stepped out. "Last night meant something."

I leaned down, meeting his gaze directly. "Last night was a drug-induced mistake that we’ll both pretend never happened. Goodbye, Ryan."

I quickly typed a response to Triton as I walked away:

To: Triton

Yes! Harvest & Hearth at 8? Can’t wait to see you too.

---

The studio was buzzing with activity when I arrived. My assistant, Lucy, intercepted me before I could reach my office.

"There’s a drop-dead gorgeous guy asking for you," she whispered conspiratorially. "He’s been waiting in the reception area for twenty minutes."

Maya appeared from around the corner, grinning like a cat. "When were you going to tell us about this mystery man? He’s sex on legs, Serena!"

"What are you talking about?" I frowned, peering toward reception.

And there he was - Triton, tall and lean in dark jeans and a charcoal button-down, his usual mischievous smile in place. He’d cut his hair since I’d last seen him, the shorter style emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and jawline.

"Triton!" I exclaimed, hurrying over to embrace him. "I thought we were meeting tonight!"

He lifted me off my feet in a bear hug. "Couldn’t wait. Plus, I wanted to see this famous studio of yours."

"You should have called ahead," I scolded, though I couldn’t stop smiling. "I would have cleared my schedule."

"And ruin the surprise?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not a chance."

I turned to find Maya and Celeste watching us with undisguised curiosity.

"Ladies, this is..." I hesitated, realizing I didn’t actually know his name.

He offered them a charming smile and smoothly stepped in. "Julian," he said. "I’m an old friend."

I blinked, then recovered quickly. "Right. Julian, meet my business partner Maya and our design coordinator Celeste."

"The infamous Dreamland crew," Julian nodded, flashing them a charming smile. "Serena’s told me all about you."

"Funny, she’s never mentioned you," Maya replied, giving me a look that clearly said ’we’ll discuss this later.’

"That’s because Julian values his privacy," I explained, shooting him a meaningful glance. "He’s in cybersecurity."

Julian laughed. "What she means is I’m a professional paranoid who changes phones every month and uses encrypted everything."

"How mysterious," Celeste commented, obviously impressed.

"And completely necessary in my line of work," he added with a wink. "You wouldn’t believe the security vulnerabilities most people live with."

Maya sidled up to me while Celeste continued chatting with Julian. "He’s hot. Why haven’t you jumped on that?"

"It’s not like that," I whispered back. "We’re just friends."

"Uh-huh," she smirked. "The way he looks at you says otherwise."

I rolled my eyes. "You’re imagining things."

"Am I?" Maya challenged. "Because that man has ’interested’ written all over his face."

Before I could argue further, Julian turned back to me. "So, still on for dinner? Or can I convince you to play hooky for lunch instead?"

"Lunch sounds perfect," I agreed, grateful for the excuse to escape Maya’s inquisition. "Just let me grab my purse."

"Take the whole day," Maya called after me. "God knows you need a break."

Ten minutes later, Julian was holding the door of a sleek black Aston Martin open for me.

"Seriously?" I laughed, eyeing the luxury vehicle. "This is your car?"

He slid into the driver’s seat with easy grace. "Who says it’s mine? It’s just a rental."

"Now that sounds more like the Julian I know who lived on ramen noodles and caffeine," I teased.

His smile turned enigmatic. "So where are you taking me to eat?"

I gave him a mischievous grin. "You’ll see. I’ve got a place in mind that I think you’ll love."

When we arrived at the restaurant, it was already bustling despite being before the typical lunch rush.

Harvest & Hearth was clearly living up to its reputation as the hottest new place in town.

We were quickly seated, and Julian looked around appreciatively at the lively atmosphere.

"This place must be hard to get a reservation at," he commented.

"Not too bad," I shrugged, playing it cool despite having called in three favors to secure our table.

As I reached for my menu, a familiar figure caught my eye across the restaurant. My stomach dropped.

Ivy Hart was sitting at a corner table, her golden curls unmistakable even from this distance. And she was staring directly at us.