Chapter 2

Serena's POV

This plan had been brewing in my mind for weeks, every detail carefully crafted during those long hours when David thought I was just being the perfect fiancée. Every time he took me on those carefully orchestrated dates—the kind that made other women shoot envious glances our way—I was calculating. The diamond bracelet he'd clasped around my wrist at dinner? Worth at least three grand to the right buyer. The surprise designer handbag from last Tuesday? Another two thousand, easy money.

I needed enough cash for a decent used car and a few weeks of living expenses. Chicago wasn't cheap, but it was far enough from where I lived now that David's people wouldn't immediately think to look there. More importantly, that's where I'd find Elias. He would tell me what really happened, why they were all lying.

When we went shopping, David always gave me space, letting me wander through boutiques while he handled his endless phone calls.

After a month of careful preparation, the opportunity finally came. That afternoon, we were in Manhattan's most luxurious jewelry store, selecting engagement rings.

"Which one do you like best, darling?" David's voice was warm and patient as he gestured toward the display cases of engagement rings that probably cost more than most people's cars.

I was studying a particularly elaborate solitaire when his phone rang. The easy smile vanished as he glanced at the caller ID.

"Another crisis? Every time I step away!" He pressed the phone to his ear.

The conversation was brief, filled with the clipped efficiency of corporate emergencies. When he hung up, David's apologetic expression already told me what was coming.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. There's an emergency at the company. Can you get home on your own?"

I nodded, trying to make my disappointment look convincing while my nerves jumped at the opportunity. "Of course. Handle whatever you need to."

The moment his car disappeared into traffic, I went into action. Twenty minutes later, I was changing into jeans and a hoodie in a department store bathroom, stuffing the designer dress into a shopping bag. The pawn shops were closed, but I noticed a used car lot still had its lights on.

The rusty Honda Civic I'd reserved looked like it might not make it out of the lot, but the dealer assured me it would get me where I needed to go. I paid cash—nearly wiping out my savings—and drove it to a parking garage six blocks away. Then I threw my phone straight into a storm drain so they couldn't track me through it.

The nearly non-stop drive left me exhausted, but when I saw Chicago's skyline appear, a strange sense of relief washed over me. I'd done it—I'd actually escaped.

The Midnight Express bar didn't look like much from the outside—peeling paint, half the letters burned out on the neon sign—but something drew me here specifically, though I couldn't say why. It felt familiar somehow.

"You have experience?" The manager was a rough man named Tommy who looked me up and down with practiced skepticism.

"Plenty," I lied smoothly. "And I'll work for tips only—cash, no paperwork needed."

That got his attention, and I was hired.

Within an hour, I was behind the bar learning the ropes. Who would have thought the former mafia princess would be making a living in a dive bar? My family certainly wouldn't have seen that coming. The work went smoother than I'd expected—pouring drinks, taking orders, smiling at drunk customers, pocketing tips. Nobody asked about my past or why someone with a good education was bartending in a place like this.

Between shifts, I stayed in a shabby motel room that smelled like cigarettes and broken dreams. But I was free, and every night I'd casually ask customers if they'd heard of anyone named Elias. So far, nothing. I was starting to think maybe I needed to be more patient—Chicago was a big city, and finding leads on one person took time.

A week of peaceful anonymity almost made me believe I'd truly vanished without a trace.

Until that day when I pushed through the beaded curtain into private booth seven as usual, balancing a tray of top-shelf whiskey. The smoke was thick enough to cut, and four men in expensive suits sat around the table. Their conversation paused when I entered.

"Gentlemen, your drinks," I said, setting down glasses with practiced efficiency.

"Much appreciated, sweetheart." The man closest to me had the soft look of someone accustomed to office work, tie loosened, shirt slightly wrinkled. "Tommy sure knows how to pick his staff."

As I poured, he launched into what was clearly a rehearsed boast. "You know, I've been David Cooper's right-hand man for three years now. Finally getting some time to myself while he handles personal matters."

The name hit me like a physical blow, but I kept my hands steady as I continued serving. David Cooper—my David. But this man was a complete stranger. I probed carefully while opening their bottles. "Has the Cooper family had any celebrations lately?"

"Absolutely!" He leaned back, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. "The boss just announced his engagement. Been busy with wedding planning and all that romantic stuff."

Something felt wrong. Hadn't I escaped? Wasn't I supposed to be his fiancée? I lit his cigarette and probed again. "Congratulations to him. Which lucky lady is marrying Mr. Cooper?"

The man pulled out his phone, scrolling through photos with the enthusiasm of someone who loved gossip. "The Thompson family's eldest daughter. Real socialite, you know. They were even photographed at some family restaurant last night."

He turned the screen toward me, and my world tilted. The photo showed a couple at an elegant restaurant—a woman in pearls and a tailored dress, and a man in a navy suit. The woman was beautiful in that understated old-money way.

But the man being called David Cooper? I'd never seen him before in my life.

The tray slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, glasses shattering on the table, whiskey splashing onto expensive suits. The men jumped back, cursing as they brushed at their clothes. "Jesus, lady! Watch it!"

"I'm so sorry, I—" I stammered. Nothing made sense anymore. If David wasn't David, then who had I been living with? What was the truth? What did the Valenti family want with me?

Before I could process these horrifying implications, the booth door exploded inward with a bang that silenced the entire bar.

"So this is where you've been hiding!"

Luca appeared in the doorway, wearing that mask of cold fury I'd remembered from childhood. His dark eyes locked onto mine with deadly focus.

"Serena, you're a Valenti family princess, and you enjoy this kind of degrading work?" His hand shot out, grabbing my shirt collar and dragging me toward the door.

The men in the booth wisely decided to be elsewhere, melting into the crowd as Luca hauled me through the bar like a disobedient child. A black sedan waited at the curb, engine running. Through the tinted windows, I could make out two familiar silhouettes in the back seat—my parents.

"Get in." Luca's voice brooked no argument as he roughly shoved me toward the open car door.

My parents sat solemnly in the back seat. The warmth and affection I'd known my entire life had been replaced by something more frightening—deep disappointment mixed with something that almost looked like grief. The past indulgence and care had been replaced by profound disappointment.

"Serena." My mother's voice was barely a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter what remained of her composure. "We gave you everything—love, protection, a future. And you threw it all away chasing someone who was never there."

"What do we have to do to make you believe that Elias doesn't exist, that he's fake?" My father's voice was filled with exhaustion and despair.

They thought I was insane. I could see it in their eyes—the careful way they watched me, as if I might break down at any moment.

I shook my head frantically, telling myself they were liars. Telling myself not to believe anything any of them said.

"No. You're lying. All of you. I know what I remember, I know—"

Luca's patience, always thin, finally snapped completely. His hand shot out, tangling in my hair and yanking my head back with enough force to bring tears to my eyes.

"Serena, you've only ever had one boyfriend in your past." He struggled to contain his rage.

Then he released me, and I immediately gasped for air.

"You want to see him, don't you? Fine, I'll take you to him right now!"