Chapter 2

The studio door swung open.

The harsh squeal of wheelchair wheels scraped against the floor.

Ethan rolled in, putting on his usual "struggling" act.

Carter Hayes followed him like a loyal dog, a sycophantic grin plastered on his face.

"Well, well. Look who finally finished."

Carter's voice was dripping with venom.

"Do you have any idea how long Ethan has been waiting for you, Serena?"

"Dragging your feet over such a simple task. Are you trying to keep him from resting on purpose?"

He spat his words out, his finger practically poking my face.

Ethan raised a hand, signaling him to stop.

"That's enough, Carter."

He turned to me, his tone dripping with forced gentleness.

"Serena, you look awful. Are you still sick?"

His gaze quickly drifted past my shoulder, locking onto the final design on my computer.

"Excellent work."

He offered a condescending nod of approval.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down under my guidance."

I watched him quietly as he casually took credit for my blood, sweat, and tears.

He had played this part for five years, and I had watched it for five years.

Today, it just felt pathetic.

Sensing the heavy silence, he reached out, pretending to feel my forehead for a fever.

That same hand, which confidently gripped the steering wheel on the racetrack yesterday, was now putting on a show of fake concern.

Right before his fingers brushed my skin, I took a sharp step back.

His hand froze mid-air.

The gentle mask on Ethan's face cracked.

Beside him, Carter gasped in shock.

The air in the room turned to ice.

Ethan’s fingers curled slightly in the air.

A flash of pure malice flickered in his eyes, gone in a second, but his charming facade was barely holding together.

Carter jumped like a cat that had its tail stepped on.

"Serena Cole! What the hell is your problem?!"

"Ethan is trying to be nice to you, and you dodge him?"

"Getting arrogant now, are we? Have you forgotten what you are?"

He was practically foaming at the mouth, his voice screeching.

I lowered my gaze, refusing to look at his distorted face.

My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

"The design is done. I've emailed it to you."

"Is there anything else?"

Ethan stared at me, trying to read this sudden shift in my behavior.

A few seconds later, he forced that fake smile back onto his face.

As if the awkward tension had never happened.

"No, that's all. Good job."

He was clearly pleased with my sudden "submission."

"Go home and get some rest."

He waved his hand, dismissing me like a disposable tool.

I turned and walked away.

The click of my heels echoed through the empty studio.

Behind me, Carter’s hushed, brown-nosing voice drifted over.

"Man, she needs to be put in her place."

"Well, it's almost time anyway. This is her 100th task, right?"

"Once she hits a hundred, let's see how high and mighty she acts."

Ethan’s cold, mocking voice drifted through the air, carrying a playful cruelty.

"The final one."

"I'm going to make sure she never forgets it for the rest of her life."

My steps faltered for a fraction of a second before I kept walking.

The door clicked shut behind me, blocking out their disgusting voices.

Never forget?

Oh, trust me. I will make sure none of us ever forget.