I’m currently working a standard 9-to-6 in Southside.

It’s a grind, but for the first time, I’m seeing a return on my effort. In just a year, I’ve climbed from an entry-level assistant to a project lead, managing a team of three.

The strangest twist of fate happened during a bid with a competing firm. It turned out the man heading their team was Kartier Bennett—the very person Fletcher Reed had been trying to set me up with.

After the proposal presentation, while I was waiting to hear back, he caught up to me in the lobby.

"Serenity, you’re like a completely different person," he said. He gave a wry laugh. "Fletcher kept telling me his friend’s younger sister needed looking after. I’ll be honest, I expected some fragile socialite. It’s clear now that I had the wrong idea entirely."

He extended a hand. "Kartier Bennett. Let’s start over. Any chance you’d be free for dinner after the bid results come in?"

I nodded, a genuine smile playing on my lips as we exchanged contact info.

In that moment, it hit me: I really wasn't the old Serenity anymore. I was no longer vibrating with anxiety over a sliver of validation, nor was I living my life in the shadow of someone else’s silhouette. My worth was no longer something that required an external stamp of approval.

***

Back at my apartment, the deliveries kept coming. Desmond Knight sent food, supplies, and small luxuries, along with a monthly deposit into my bank account. I knew his parents were likely the ones funding half of it, but I didn't acknowledge it. I let it be, maintaining a thin veneer of peace to keep the peace.

Then, today, our team nailed another project. We went out for a celebratory dinner, and that was where I ran into Vienna Cruz.

"Serenity. It’s been a while. You look like you're doing well."

I gave her a polite nod.

She traced the rim of her glass, her lips curling into a faint, hollow arc. "I’m doing well, too." She gestured toward a middle-aged man nearby who was frantically fussing with his tie. "He made his fortune in construction and is desperate to break into the high-end real estate scene. I’m the one teaching him which art collectors to name-drop and which architectural firm is currently 'in.' It’s a lucrative gig, and the schedule is my own. I finally realized that what a woman needs isn't love—it’s money."

I smiled at her. "I see it a bit differently."

She arched an eyebrow.

"A woman doesn't need love, and she doesn't need money," I said, meeting her gaze evenly. "She needs the power of choice."

"Wealth gives you the floor to walk away when love turns toxic. And love? That’s what keeps you warm when the money feels cold. But, to each their own. As long as you’re satisfied with your life, that’s all that matters."

I offered a polite smile and turned to leave.

"Serenity!" Vienna called out, her voice sharpening. "I owe you an apology. I’m sorry."

I didn't look back. I paused for a heartbeat, then kept walking. It wasn't that I was incapable of forgiveness; it was just that I finally understood the truth: Life is meant to move forward, never backward.

There is light ahead. The shadows behind me can stay exactly where they belong.

Some people manage to claw their way out of the darkness, while others choose to convince themselves the world is rigged against them, rotting in place.

Like Kylian Gomez.

His attempt to assault me had landed him a year in prison. And the very first thing he did after walking out of those prison gates? He came hunting for me.