10:15 p.m.
The fundraiser was finally over. For a man like Julian Vance, the past two hours had been pure torture. Not because of difficult business matters, but because of the woman sitting silently beside him.
Inside the luxury sedan, silence filled the air. Julian roughly loosened his bow tie and let out a sigh. His back slumped wearily against the leather seat. His eyes flicked to the left.
Serena looked perfectly calm. Too calm.
She rested her head against the window. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady. She wasn't pretending to sleep to avoid a conversation. She was genuinely fast asleep.
Julian scoffed inwardly.
In the past, whenever they came home this late, Serena would never fall asleep first. She would open a bottle of mineral water for her husband, gently massage the back of Julian's neck, then ask anxiously, "Are your shoulders sore?"
Tonight? Forget a massage. His wife couldn't even be bothered to glance at him.
They were barely half a meter apart in the back seat, but Julian felt as if she were on another continent. That strange feeling crept into his chest again. Julian hated this feeling. He hated anything beyond his control. And Serena's drastic change in attitude had successfully shattered his comfortable routine.
The car slowed and came to a smooth stop in the underground parking lobby. His personal driver hurried out and opened the door.
Julian got out first. He stood there for a moment, waiting. Serena slowly woke up. She absently smoothed the hem of her velvet gown, then stepped out of the car.
Without looking at Julian's face. Without waiting for him to offer his hand.
They walked side by side toward the private elevator, leaving a noticeable gap between their shoulders. Inside the metal box, the digital numbers steadily climbed toward the fortieth floor. The hum of the elevator was the only sound in the background. Julian stared straight ahead, watching their reflections in the mirrored doors.
Serena looked tired, but her face was peaceful and unbothered. Julian, meanwhile? His jaw was rigid. A flash of restrained frustration glinted in his eyes.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the spacious, luxurious, dimly lit living room of the penthouse.
Julian stepped inside first. He roughly shrugged off his black suit jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the sofa. This was so unlike Julian. He was usually obsessive about neatness.
Serena entered behind him. She didn't pay the slightest attention to the jacket he'd thrown down. Normally, she would have picked it up right away, quietly complained about how Julian always made a mess when he was tired, then carefully hung it up.
Tonight, Serena said nothing. She took off her high heels and left them strewn haphazardly on the floor. Then she walked barefoot toward the bedroom hallway.
"Serena. Stop right there."
Julian's voice shattered the silence. Heavy. Cold. Demanding. It was the exact tone he used to intimidate people across the table in the boardroom.
Serena's bare feet came to a stop.
She wasn't startled. She didn't tremble, either. She simply drew a long breath and slowly turned to face her husband.
"Yes?" Serena replied.
Her face was blank. Her eyes were empty of emotion.
Julian took two steps forward, narrowing the distance between them. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. He tried to look in control, even though his chest was pounding wildly.
"We need to talk about your behavior tonight," Julian hissed, his eyes sharp. "You ignored almost all of my guests. You gave them one-word answers. You stood there stiffly, like you'd been dragged there against your will. What was that supposed to mean? Were you deliberately trying to make things difficult?"
Serena stared at the tall man without blinking.
There was no annoyed crease on her forehead. No tears. No angry shouting. She merely tilted her head slightly and looked at Julian with such empty eyes that his courage faltered.
"Deliberately trying to make things difficult?" Serena repeated. Her tone was light.
She even took the time to let out a small laugh—a hollow sound that never reached her eyes.
"Julian. Wasn't I perfectly professional? I arrived on time. Let you escort me. Smiled for the reporters. I didn't cause any drama there."
"But you acted like a living mannequin!" Julian cut in quickly, his voice rising half an octave. "You didn't interact with anyone. You ignored me all night. You've never been that stiff in public before. You always knew how to carry yourself and help me make small talk. Why did you suddenly stop pulling your weight?"
Serena looked away. Her eyes turned toward the glass wall, which reflected their two figures in the dim room.
"Because I'm tired, Julian," Serena answered softly. Her voice was dragged out by a long exhale.
"Tired?" Julian scoffed. The excuse sounded ridiculous to him. "All you had to do was attend your own family's event. You stood there for less than three hours. Was that really so exhausting that you had to treat me like an enemy?"
Serena looked at Julian again. This time, her eyes sharpened, piercing straight through the arrogant man's defenses.
"The event itself wasn't tiring at all," Serena said, emphasizing every word. "But having to keep caring about someone who never cared about me from the very beginning... that's what's exhausting."
Julian froze. His mouth parted slightly, but his voice suddenly failed him.
"Three years, Julian," Serena continued, her voice steady, without the slightest tremor of tears. "For three years, I tried to melt the ice in this house. I paid attention to your meals. Your schedule. The temperature of your coffee, which had to be exactly ninety degrees. I even made sure your colleagues felt valued. I did all of that because I thought that if I tried hard enough, you'd see me as a human being. Not just a legal piece of window dressing."
Serena stepped back. The physical distance between them amounted to only a few centimeters, but to Julian, it felt like kilometers.
"But all my efforts were wasted." Serena smiled faintly—a smile of both defeat and relief. "You only needed a functional wife. One who would be there when you needed her for appearances and wouldn't make too many demands behind the scenes. Congratulations, Julian. Starting today, you'll get exactly what you wanted. A functional wife. No less, no more."
After dropping that devastating bombshell, Serena didn't wait for his response.
She turned around at once and continued down the long hallway. But she didn't head toward the master bedroom at the end. Her steps turned toward the wooden door across from it.
The guest room.
Click. The guest-room door opened, then slammed shut.
Click.
The sound of the lock turning from inside rang out sharply, echoing throughout the silent penthouse.
Julian Vance stood rooted to the spot. His head suddenly began to spin. All his arguments and sky-high ego evaporated just like that, obliterated by the door that had slammed moments ago.
His left hand clenched tightly at his side. His breathing quickened. Julian had spent his entire life accustomed to controlling everything. But tonight, for the first time, he felt utterly and completely defeated.
One terrifying fact struck his logic with brutal force.
Serena wasn't sulking. His wife wasn't trying to get his attention. She had truly given up.
And realizing that he no longer had a place in that woman's eyes... hurt far more than anything he had ever imagined.