Chapter 4

Serena's POV

The next morning, I had barely reached the bedroom doorway, the one Ethan and I had shared, when I saw the housekeeper throwing books and a laptop into the hallway like garbage.

The books' spines cracked against the tile floor. The laptop casing split open with a sharp crack.

The welts on my back hadn't even started to scab. When I bent down to pick them up, the movement pulled the dried blood from my shirt against the wounds and my vision blurred.

The housekeeper looked down at me with cold detachment.

"Ms. Walsh, Mr. Hartley has given instructions. This master bedroom needs to be cleared out by this morning."

I snapped my head up.

"This is my bedroom."

The door was half open. From inside came the scrape of a wall scraper at work.

I shoved past her and walked in. The sharp smell of pink paint hit me immediately.

The soft grey walls I had spent weeks choosing had already been half stripped away.

Ethan was standing by the window, directing one of the workers toward the south-facing wall.

"Keep the pink lighter over here. Cassandra likes it bright. Too dark and it'll feel oppressive to her."

I stared at those wide, garish swaths of pink spreading across the wall. The books slipped from my hands.

I had lived in this room for five years.

The desk by the window was where I had pulled all-nighters for the company's projects, more nights than I could count.

My silk robe was still hanging in the closet.

And now, without a single word to me, Ethan had handed over every inch of this space to be repainted in Cassandra's favorite color.

I walked up to him, trembling.

"You're giving my room to Cassandra?"

He turned, his face showing nothing close to guilt.

"Cass just got out of the hospital. The doctor said she needs a bright, sunny environment to recover. This room faces south. Best light in the house."

"Then where am I supposed to sleep?"

My voice cracked.

"There are guest rooms. It's not like you'd be sleeping on the floor."

I stared at this cold, hollow man.

"Ethan, my father caned my back last night and it's still bleeding."

His gaze moved briefly to the stain seeping through my shoulder before shifting away without interest.

"You went there last night and made a scene. You brought that on yourself."

I stepped forward and yanked the dust sheet off the nearest piece of furniture.

"Everyone out. Now."

Ethan's expression hardened in an instant. He grabbed my wrist.

"Serena. Stop embarrassing me."

"You called me delusional in front of every camera in the city last night. Today you're rushing to paint over my life so your mistress can move in."

My fingers were going numb from his grip, but I held his stare.

"What exactly would it take, Ethan, for you to be embarrassed?"

"Let go of me."

He didn't. He tightened his grip and turned toward the door.

"Get her out of here."

Two broad-shouldered security men came through the door and seized me by both arms, hauling me toward the hallway.

My heels dragged two long marks across the floor.

I kept my eyes on the half-painted wall. I watched that sickening pink creep over every trace of the five years I had lived here.

Ethan stood where he was and never turned around.

At ten in the morning, I pushed through the pain and went to the office.

I swiped my access card at the lobby turnstile. Three times.

Three red lights.

A receptionist hurried over, her smile the particular kind that carries contempt underneath it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Walsh. All of your access credentials have been revoked by upper management."

I kept the card pressed tight in my hand.

"On whose authority?"